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creepswrites · 11 months

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MEAT PIES (Thomas x Reader)

as a result of the poll i made, here is a lil something with Thomas Hewitt! also, this is sort of in celebration of 500 followers so thank you so much for that!! :D

Thomas Hewitt x gn!Reader (they/them)

Summary: You nodded and slipped out of the kitchen, hearing Luda May call the directions to you. Down the hall, first door on the left. Easy. The door in question was underneath a large staircase that led upstairs from the entry foyer. As you reached to open it, your hand froze on the doorknob. The sound of a revving chainsaw and screaming could be heard just beyond the door.

WARNING: 18+, violence, murder, c/nnibalism

Living in Travis County was becoming more and more difficult, particularly in Fuller. There were whispers around town that the meat processing plant had gone bad. The latest drought had caused illness in the cattle but the plant did nothing about it, continuing work as expected.

Those whispers had reached your ears almost immediately. Fuller was a relatively small town as is and the sick meat would be bad for your business.

Currently, you ran a little corner store making and selling various baked goods, though your little meat pies were especially good. Despite the town's size, you had various customers come in almost every day. When you'd first moved to town about two years ago, many of the older residents had turned up their noses when you'd continued to work on Sundays, not being particularly religious yourself.

Their attitudes quickly changed once they got a taste of your baking though.

You made various things as well, from cakes to breads to cookies. There was little you couldn't make. In summer, you'd whip up vanilla ice creams with apple cobblers and in winter you'd make warm honey and vanilla cakes. The town couldn't get enough of it.

Today was a warm day, as were most days in Texas. You'd just finished cleaning up one of the tables when you heard someone come inside. "Be right with you!" You called over your shoulder as you finished wiping down the table with a disinfectant wet wipe.

When you spun around, you smiled at a familiar face. "Hey Mrs Hewitt, how can I help ya?"

Luda May Hewitt was a regular of yours, always paying you generously to bring home some of your cakes and plates of cookies. She bought more than any other customer but you certainly weren't complaining. Sometimes she'd bring you some of her own family recipes for you to try, always looking proud when they came out a success.

You were always respectful to her, which you could tell she also appreciated. "Just here for the usual, dear." Luda May smiled at you.

With a quick nod, you slipped back behind the counter and began collecting chocolate clip cookies into a paper bag. "Did somethin' a lil different with 'em this week." You gave the old woman a secret smile. "Added a bit more salt to this batch, so let me know what ya think!"

"Ooo!" Luda May smiled. "I'm sure they'll be delicious as always. My Tommy's such a big fan of your bakin' you know."

You looked up at her, giving her a raised eyebrow. "Tommy?"

She nodded. "He works at the meat plant. Walks by your lil store every day on his way to work but he's too shy to come in, poor dear."

"I hope I don't scare him," you laughed good-naturedly as you sealed up the bag before collecting a dozen cupcakes into a paper tray. "He's welcome to come in if he wants! Can make him a hot chocolate if he shows up before openin.'"

Luda May gave you a fond look. "You're such a darlin,' don't know what angel sent ya to Fuller but I know the whole town's grateful." She paused, fidgeting with her fingers. "You heard 'bout the plant, right?" Her voice was barely a whisper when she spoke.

You nodded at her, leaning closer over the counter like the two of you were sharing a dark secret over the little cakes and cookies. "Yeah, heard the meat was bad."

"Not just bad, dear." Luda May frowned. "Been stomach infections all over the country 'cause of the spoiled meat. A health inspectors comin' out this week to see."

A soft gasp left your lips and Luda May nodded sadly. "I mean... is the plant-?"

Luda May gave a wistful smile. "You've heard the rumors. I'm sure you've seen the families movin' out of Fuller this past month. Everyone's already cut their losses an' moved on."

You frowned, crossing your arms over your cool counter as the old woman opened her purse to pull out coins and bills to pay you. "What're you gonna do?" You asked her, chewing on your lip.

She looked at you with a soft look. "Don't you go worryin' about an old woman like me. I ain't last this long on pillows and cotton." She teased you, making you smile slightly. "I got my boys to look after me. We got a farm out in the country, we'll get by. I still got my job at the community center, for now."

As she slid the money across the counter and took the two bags of sweets, you gave her a polite wave. "Let me know if I can help somehow, yeah?"

Luda May just gave you a smile as she left, leaving you alone in the empty store as the bell of the door echoed emptily. You just hoped her family would be okay.

The Hewitts were a fairly reserved family but were the heart of the little community. Luda May and Charlie had a strong presence in the town and, despite the sheriff's best attempts, the town looked to the Hewitt family for advice. So you'd heard of Thomas Hewitt - Luda May's son who, according to rumors, was mentally challenged and physically disabled. You'd never met him but you'd heard stories.

You finally got to meet him just a few days after Luda May's visit.

It was early in the morning and you'd barely gotten dressed when you padded downstairs in socked feet to your little shop. You lived above the store in a small, one room apartment. It was convenient though!

A knock on the glass door confused your still-sleepy brain. You crept towards the door, unlocked it, and opened it. An enormous man stood there, staring at you with surprise. His hair was long, messy and matted, and he wore a mask over his mouth that obscured a lot of his face. You opened and closed your mouth for a minute before managing to choke out a few words. "Thomas, right?"

He nodded and you felt yourself smile. "Luda May told me 'boutcha! C'mon in," you stepped aside and shuffled back towards your coffee machine. You heard Thomas enter slowly, shutting the door carefully behind him. "You want coffee?" You asked, looking over your shoulder at him.

Thomas looked dirty, the apron he wore stained with blood. If he didn't work at the meat plant, you would've been more alarmed. He just stared at you, unblinking. "Hot chocolate?" You tried, earning a quick nod. "Comin' right up!" You gave him a bright smile as you set about making coffee for yourself and hot chocolate for your guest.

"Luda May says you walk by my shop a lot." You hummed as you worked. "You're allowed to come in, y'know? I ain't gonna run you off."

Thomas was silent still. You got the feeling he didn't talk much. So you went into the back room as drinks brewed and opened one of your storage boxes. Despite the dusty, rough nature of the rest of the town, you prided yourself on keeping things clean and tidy. So you grabbed two cinnamon rolls and went to reheat them in the little oven.

All the while, you felt eyes on you. For some reason, you got a heavy feeling in your stomach but you pushed it down. He was strange, not dangerous.

You slid the man a mug of hot chocolate and a warm cinnamon roll across your countertop with a smile. "Yer always welcome here."

To be polite, you turned your back to him as you drank your coffee to let him take off the mask he wore to eat better. The two of you enjoyed breakfast in relative silence until, without much fanfare, Thomas stepped away from the counter and slipped out the front door, back into the Texas heat.

He was strange, without a doubt, but he meant well. It was clear Luda May adored him so he must just really be shy with strangers. You'd start stocking up more hot chocolate, despite it being summer, for if Thomas ever visited you again.

And, later that very afternoon, hundreds of men were seen leaving the meat plant. It was shut down for good by the health inspector. You watched from your windows as the angry men stormed home, yelling in protest and anger with each other.

You didn't see Thomas in the crowds though. You hoped he was okay...

With the meat plant shut down, life in Fuller came to a complete stop. Where once it had been difficult, it was now near impossible to continue living there. At least 85% of the town moved away by the end of the month, abandoning their properties or selling them. The town, effectively, shut down in a matter of weeks.

But you remained.

You didn't have anywhere to go or the means to leave. Selling the property was an option but where would you even go? You didn't exactly have a means of moving. Your little car couldn't hold all your possessions and getting a moving company to help was ridiculously expensive...

You felt trapped.

Luda May visited you late one afternoon, a sad smile on her face. "Hello dear." She said softly, the overhead bell ringing to announce her arrival.

Glancing up from the catalogue you were browsing, you smiled back. "Hey Mrs Hewitt. How can I help ya?"

She made her way up to your counter, looking down at the catalogue before looking back up at you. "The Jamisons moved away." She said softly. Your eyes widened and you straightened up. "Just this afternoon." Her voice was shaky as you reached over to hold her hands.

"I'm so sorry..." Your voice was soft as the old woman looked close to collapsing. "I know how close they were with the town, I-"

Luda May held your hands back tight. "It's been so hard, havin' everyone move away just like that. Like this town ain't worth nothin' without the meat plant." She grit her teeth against a wet sob. "My Tommy ain't got no place to work an' we- we can't leave. But if everyone else goes, what'll happen to us? What'll we do?"

You let go of Luda May long enough to slide over your counter to hug her. "I'm so sorry. I- I wish there was something I could do to help..."

She held you tight as she let herself sob. You swayed with her for a moment, trying your best to console her. "Ain't nowhere left to work in this town. We can't survive on pennies from my community center job, sweetheart. It's gettin' too hard." Luda May wept.

You felt for her, truly. "If there's anything I can do, please let me know. You an' your family have done so much for me, for the town. Least I can do is repay the favor."

Luda May pulled back slightly, wiping her cheeks. "You're too good for this world. Certainly the Lord blessed us when he sent you to this town." She sniffed once, straightening up and adjusting her glasses. "You should come on by for dinner tonight. We got guests comin' over an' I think you'd fit right in."

"Oh!" You perked up, smiling at her. "I'd love to! I've got this pie recipe I've been meanin' to try out, I think y'all will love it."

Luda May smiled and nodded along. "I got two hours left in my shift at the community center. I'll come on by and getcha after, alright?"

You nodded excitedly. "I'll get cleaned up. Thank you, I'm honored to be invited along!"

When you turned to hurry up the stairs to your little apartment, you missed the way Luda May's smile faded away. Her heart ached with remorse for what she was sentencing you to.

As she left the store, she cried silent tears for the betrayal she was about to give you.

But, as promised, Luda May came to pick you up just as the sun was going down. You'd gotten cleaned up, dressed nice in light clothing to protect yourself against the hot Texas afternoon. An airy, white and blue striped shirt with the collar pressed nicely alongside matching navy blue shorts. The boots you wore were simple and the cleanest shoes you owned.

When Luda May spotted you, smiling and waving at her as you clutched a wicker basket in your hands, she almost told you the truth. Almost made up a lie to keep you from coming over, to save you from the fate that Charlie - Hoyt, he'd insisted now - would surely sentence you to. But he'd been right. The family needed to eat.

She just wished you'd left town earlier. Packed up your cute little things into neat, nice boxes and left this shithole of a town. But no. You'd stayed because you were sweet. And you trusted her. Which only made her feel worse about putting you into this situation.

You, who had only ever been so kind and loving to her, her family, Tommy...

But she didn't say or do anything. She just smiled as you got into her old truck and drove you down the old, dirt road towards the Hewitt house. The old blue truck rattled but you were polite and didn't say a thing. You were too good for this world, in Luda May's eyes.

Maybe, just maybe, there could be a way to save you still.

The Hewitt farm was much bigger than you imagined. The large, manor-like house lay surrounded by various barns, cattle pens, and a nearby junkyard. You didn't let it show on your face but the whole place felt... Dirty.

Like dirt caked every surface, even lightly. As though if you were to drag your fingers across anything, you'd find layers of dirt and dust left on the tips of your fingers. You suppressed a shudder as Luda May left her truck, shutting the door rather loudly. You were quick to follow her up to the big house, stumbling slightly as you hurried.

"Now, be wary of the boys. They tend to be a bit rowdy this late in the day. Once dinner rolls 'round they'll settle. If any of them give you trouble, you come straight to me." Luda May said as you approached the door.

You gave her a quick nod. "Yes ma'am."

The smile she gave you was fond but it was also... something else.

Before you could figure out what, you heard a scream. Your heart lept to your throat but Luda May took your hand in hers and squeezed. "The boys play rough. They're alright, dear." She gave you a warm look. "Lets just get inside 'n outta this heat."

You obeyed, swallowing down a sick feeling you had rising in your stomach.

The inside of the house was. Messy, to say the least. But, you had to remind yourself to be polite as you were guided from the foyer to the kitchen. Some dishes lay in the sink, making Luda May curse. "Monty!" She called somewhere into the house. "Next time ya fuckin' leave dishes in the sink, I'm havin' Tommy throw your damn truck out!"

You blinked back in shock. You'd never heard her talk like that.

A man, who you could only assume was Monty, poked his head into the kitchen. "God damn woman, ain't my job to clean the place!"

Luda May scoffed. "I pride myself on runnin' a clean house. You start undoin' my hard work an' you can sleep in the barn with the other stupid animals!" She let out a loud huff. "Where's Tommy anyway?"

Monty shrugged. "Ain't seen 'im. Might be downstairs." He looked you up and down, over and over. The gesture made you feel dirty. "You can go look for 'im while I entertain our, uh, guest."

"Absolutely not." Luda May said, scrubbing a plate with a brush. "They're my guest, you an' Charlie can keep your dirty hands off. They're the sweet baker from down the road who makes those sweets y'all like so much."

He raised his eyebrows. "Are they now? Well I'll be damned."

You flushed under all the attention, fidgeting nervously with the basket in your hands and deciding to just set in on the counter nearby Luda May. "I could, um, go find Thomas. If- if you wanted?"

Anything to get away from Monty's leering eyes.

Luda May nodded to you. "He should be down in the basement workin'. Don't mind if he doesn't hear ya, you can shout."

You nodded and slipped out of the kitchen, hearing Luda May call the directions to you. Down the hall, first door on the left. Easy. The door in question was underneath a large staircase that led upstairs from the entry foyer. As you reached to open it, your hand froze on the doorknob. The sound of a revving chainsaw and screaming could be heard just beyond the door.

The sounds of heavy footsteps on the staircase above made your stomach swoop and you quickly opened the door and slipped inside. Your breath caught in your throat as the sounds got quieter, the screams turning to gurgles and the chainsaw dying down. Fearing the worst, you were silent on the rickety, old, wooden steps that went down into the darkness of the basement.

You held your breath as you neared the bottom, looking out into the dimly lit room.

Ice-hot fear shot through you at the sight. Thomas, standing over a man's body that was strapped to a table. The chainsaw he'd used lay on a bench beside the table as he appeared to be skinning the eviscerated man laying before him.

Thomas looked up at you and you slapped your hand over your mouth to cover your gasp. Tears filled your eyes as you scrambled back up the stairs, utterly terrified. You tore open the front door and took off running, only going faster when you heard Thomas chasing you.

But he knew the land better than you.

Eventually, through all your running and hiding, you found yourself cornered in one of the large, dusty barns. The ceiling and walls were wooden and the floor was just loose dirt. You whimpered when you saw Thomas's shadow approach you, wrapping your arms around yourself.

He stood in the open doorway, meat cleaver in hand as he stared at you. You backed up until you hit the wall but Thomas kept approaching you. "Are you going to hurt me?" You choked through a sob.

Thomas froze and just stared at you. You could tell your question had surprised him but he was quick to recover. He nodded. You felt your heart sink as you slid down to the dirt floor, curling up on yourself.

You sat there, curled up in the fetal position, and began to cry openly. Thomas made a soft grunt but you couldn't hear, too busy crying. You didn't want to die, much less at Thomas's hand. He'd always seemed nice, if a bit intimidating, but you thought he and Luda May were good people.

The memory of the basement flashed in your head and you blinked up at Thomas with wet, red-rimmed eyes. He seemed to deflate then, sitting down criss-crossed in front of you, careful to keep his distance. He set the cleaver down and put his hands in his lap and just watched you.

You sniffed. "Can... can you at least do it quick?"

Thomas looked guilty as he made a grumbling noise. You wished, momentarily, he could talk to you. At least then maybe he'd tell you what he was planning to do to you. Instead, he surprised you by picking up the cleaver and tossing it further away before looking expectantly back at you.

You blinked. "You're... you're not going to hurt me?"

Thomas shook his head.

"Are..." You swallowed a thick lump that had been lodged in your throat. "Are the others...?"

That made Thomas pause. With a thoughtful look, he shook his head once before holding out his hand to you. Slowly, like you were reaching for a dog that might bite your hand off if you were too fast, you slid your hand into his.

The size difference was considerable. His hand was at least a quarter size bigger than yours, if not more, and it was rough. You knew he'd worked at the meat plant cutting up meat so of course he'd have workers hands. He gingerly ran his thumb along the back of your hand, trying to reassure you.

"You won't... let them hurt me, right?" You asked, voice low.

He nodded his head, giving your hand a gentle squeeze. Whatever had changed his mind about hurting you, you weren't willing to question it. "Okay." You said softly, letting Thomas help you stand up. Your clothes were covered in dirt but you couldn't bring yourself to care.

Though you did almost retch when you saw the blood on his apron.

"Tommy, where'd you-" Luda May called out, freezing when she saw you with Thomas. He still hadn't let go of your hand as he stepped in front of you with a pleading sound. Luda May's shoulders seemed to sag. "I'm sorry, dear." She looked at you with a remorseful look. "I... I was hopin' to keep you from findin' out. Charlie's been... persistent 'bout gettin' food for the family an' I had no choice."

Your mind slowly caught up to what she was saying. "You... you brought me here to... to be killed and eaten?!" Tears began falling again, streaking down your dirt-covered cheeks.

Thomas squeezed your hand again and you felt like throwing up. Luda May didn't say anything as she looked to Thomas. "Charlie'll be angry to know you're keepin' them alive. Are you sure about this?"

He nodded once, still standing protectively in front of you. As terrified as you were - of both Thomas and the entire concept of being made into dinner - you felt a bit reassured that he was set on not hurting you.

Luda May sighed quietly. "Alright. Dinner'll be ready soon. Proper meat." She shot you a reassuring look. "You two get cleaned up. Charlie'll be back soon."

Thomas tugged your hand gently, looking down at you and asking you to follow. He guided you to walk ahead of him, gently pushing you along after Luda May. You glanced over your shoulder as you walked to spot Thomas picking the cleaver back up. When he noticed your alarmed look, he quickly put it behind his back with wide eyes.

You almost laughed at the hysterical nature of it all. You were being invited to dinner - which you nearly became - and the guy who was going to butcher you was hiding the cleaver so you wouldn't be scared of him. Like you were a kid who had no object permanence.

Thomas genuinely did not want to scare you. You knew that. It didn't make you any less terrified though.

Charlie Hewitt - or Sheriff Hoyt as he was calling himself now, as you were terrified to learn he'd also killed - was currently having a fit.

When you'd come downstairs having mostly cleaned off in the bathroom, he'd spotted you quickly. When Luda May informed him you were a friend of Thomas's and definitely not dinner, he'd been enraged. He'd started throwing things around the house, yelling at Luda May and Thomas, who both stood strong. "I asked ya to find somethin' for dinner and ya bring back nothing? Just some sad lookin' baker kid who ain't worth jack?!"

Luda May glared. "You give em any trouble, I'll beat ya black and blue and make ya sleep outside, ya hear? I ain't puttin' up with your shit tonight, Charlie."

"Hoyt, it's Hoyt now!" He yelled back, smashing a plate.

"Every dish you break, you buy a new one!" Luda May yelled, smacking his arm hard.

Hoyt's eyes fell on you as he glared. When he moved forward to grab you, Thomas was quick to interfere. You ducked behind his arm as he stood between you and Hoyt. "Thomas. Move." Hoyt snarled.

But Thomas didn't budge. In fact, he looked surprised as he looked down at you clinging to his forearm, terrified out of your mind. While you were scared of everyone in the room, Thomas was the most likely to defend you and defend you hard. The cleaver he'd been carrying was laying out on the table and, while you'd known Luda May longer, you doubted she'd be able to use it against Hoyt if he came closer.

"I won't ask you again, boy," Hoyt snarled. Thomas calmly lifted Hoyt up by the collar of his shirt and threw him aside, sending the man crashing into the table with a hard tumble.

Luda May spoke up then. "That's enough!" She snapped at both Hoyt and Thomas. "You two clean up this mess."

Hoyt glared over at her. "We look after family. They," he pointed a finger at you as he stood, "ain't family."

You shared a nervous look with Luda May, who remained steady. "They may as well be. Far as I'm concerned, they're the only one who provided food for dinner tonight." She glared down at Hoyt. "While you were runnin' around playin' dress up."

Hoyt was quiet. "What'd they bring?"

"Meat pies." You said quietly. When Hoyt looked at you, you repeated yourself louder, fearing his anger. "I brought meat pies. L-lamb ones."

The room was silent. "Ya brought lamb pot pies?" Hoyt asked slowly, raising an eyebrow. You nodded frantically and he sighed. "Alright, fine, ya can stay." He grumbled, leaving the room with a huff.

You looked up at Thomas with nervous eyes. The mask he wore obscured a lot of his face but you could see his eyes. He blinked slowly, a softness there you were surprised by.

Clutching his arm tighter, you let yourself relax as Thomas stood protectively beside you. You could survive this, you thought to yourself.

You will survive this.

#🔪 creeps writes #slasher fanfiction #slasher x reader #the texas chainsaw massacre #texas chainsaw the beginning #thomas hewitt #thomas hewitt x reader #thomas hewitt x you #the hewitt family

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wondersinwaynemanor · 2 days

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some petty scenarios between the Wayne kids just to annoy the other (or more like get some attention, even though they won't admit it).

Tim: You know I hate your paintings, Dami. They're too colorful and too bright. They're too... Ugh.. Good. And... And... Maybe find another hobby? It's getting annoying.

Damian: You know what's a nuisance, Drake? You.

Tim: Not as annoying as your -

Damian: Keep talking nonsense, Drake, and I'll be asking for the portrait I did of you and Kent.

Tim, wraps an arm on Damian's shoulder: Heyyyy, I was kidding. All good, Dami.

---

Jason: Remember when you had the long hair, Goldie?

Dick: And I want to have that hair again.

Steph: I wish I was there to see it in person. You slayed, Dick!

Dick, flutters his lashes: Oh, you didn't need to say that, Steph.

Jason, scoffs: Ha? That long hair slayed? It was too shiny, it stung my eyes. No, no--it blinded some rogues. You don't want that to happen to you, right, Steph?

Dick, pouts: What are you talking about, Little Wing???? You even said you wanted a hair like mine!!!

Jason: I was young and made bad decisions. Of course, you all know that by now.

Steph: Jason doesn't know what he's talking about. Have the long hair again, Dick!

Dick, huffs: I'm glad I got a supporter.

---

Steph, groans: I can't focus!!!

Steph can't see Cass' face with her cowl on but she knows Cass is giving her a questioning look.

Steph: You're too distracting, okay?

Cass continues to stare at Steph.

Steph, whispers: You're wearing the perfume I really like.

Cass, tilts her head: Okay. I won't use-

Steph, gasps: Who told you to do that???

---

Jason, tries to enjoy his toast and tea in peace: Maybe try to open the drawer harder, Timbo? I'm sure it will be broken then.

Tim, opening the refrigerator doors this time with extra force, raises his voice: What was that, Jay???

Jason: Are you serious? It's too early.

Tim, gets a cup of coffee: Not my fault you're in the kitchen. Go and eat in your room. You're not the only person in this house.

Jason, raises his brows at him: What's your fucking problem??

Tim: Nothing.

proceeds to steal the fruit that's on Jason's plate.

Jason: Seriously?????

proceeds to grab Tim's cup of coffee on his hand and chugs on it.

Tim: You're an animal!!!

Jason: So are you!!!

Alfred, by the kitchen door, pinches the bridge of his nose: Oh, should the young masters must really be shouting this early?

---

Duke: Do you need anything else, Dick?

Dick, grins: Nope, nope. Carry on, Second Little D.

Duke: I can't really help you with your bike if you're singing loudly right in my ear.

Dick, blushes: Oops, sorry. I'll keep quiet.

Duke, chuckles: No, it's okay. Just don't do it right in my ear. I need my hearing.

meanwhile, Damian plays a video in the Batcomputer in a high volume.

Dick, shouts from across the cave: Dami, maybe lower the volume?

Damian, shouts back: Tt. It's a tactic to cover up your singing, Grayson. And Thomas, I need your help with-

Dick: I still need him with my bike, Dami!

Damian: You've had him for the past three hours, Grayson!

Dick: And so???

Damian: And so, I need his assistance with something.

Duke, scratches the back of his neck: Maybe I can help you both later. It's time for me to call Izzy anyways-

Dick and Damian at the same time: Wait, no!

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crowclubkaz · 6 months

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if characters from opla were books!

looking for more book recs? check out my bookstagram @hauntedstacks

book list with age range under the cut!

Monkey D. Luffy: The Graveyard Book by Neil Gaiman (Mid-Grade) The Hobbit by J.R.R. Tolkien (Mid-Grade)

Roronoa Zoro: A Clash of Steel by C.B. Lee (YA) Heart of a Samurai by Margi Preus (YA)

Nami: Six of Crows by Leigh Bardugo (YA) The Girls I've Been by Tess Sharpe (YA)

Usopp: Big Fish by Daniel Wallace (Mid-Grade) The Assassin's Curse by Cassandra Rose Clarke (YA)

Vinsmoke Sanji: Kitchen Confidential by Anthony Bourdain (Adult) Bloom by Kevin Panetta (YA)

Koby: Radio Silence by Alice Oseman (YA) The Sunbearer Trials by Aiden Thomas (YA)

Red-Haired Shanks: The House in the Cerulean Sea by TJ Klune (Adult) Vicious by V.E. Schwab (Adult)

Buggy the Clown: Clown in a Cornfield by Adam Cesare (YA) Joyland by Stephen King (Adult)

Dracule Mihawk: Empire of the Vampire by Jay Kristoff (Adult) Castlevania: The Belmont Legacy by Marc Andreyko (Adult)

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thelittlearanarathatcould · 7 months

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Fruitful Kisses

Alhaitham, Ayato, Childe, Cyno, Diluc, Heizou, Itto, Kaeya, Kaveh, Kazuha, Neuvillette, Thoma, Wriothesley, Xiao, Zhongli X female reader

Warnings -> Fluff, Childe’s and Wrio’s got a little spicy

Alhaitham 🍃

A quiet kitchen, the scent of coffee in the air, curtains open to let sunlight in; all aspects of a perfectly peaceful morning.

Seated close to your lover, your hand warmed in his, dishes that once held your breakfast left abandoned on the table; you only cared for the man who filled your mornings with such calm.

The clock demanded his departure and so he stood from his chair, but not before leaning over to deliver a kiss farewell. A buttery, slightly nutty flavour clung to his lips. No doubt remnants of the avocado he had eaten not long ago.

You licked your lips as he pulled away and felt an urge to taste again. Like a viper striking it’s prey, your hand shot out and claimed the back of his neck, pulling him closer until his lips slotted with yours to complete the puzzle. The table made a dull thud as his hand came down on its surface, catching his balance at the last possible second.

A rare chuckle fell from his mouth when he parted, his tongue sweeping across his bottom lip. You wondered if he also tasted the flavour clinging to his kiss.

“Have a good day.” You wished, smiling though your heart wept to see him go.

The scribe hummed, his words accompanied by the scent of avocado. “I’ll see you for dinner.”

Ayato 💧

A silent office, the tip of a pen scratching against paper, cups filled with boba just within reach; paperwork has never been such a peaceful thing.

Sharing a desk with your lover, his chest against your back, his lap a replacement for a cushion; if there was anywhere you belonged, it was right here between his arms.

He set his pen down and you twisted, offering him another slice of your snack. The corner of his mouth curled but instead of taking the fruit, he claimed your lips in its place. The sweet and tart flavour of the last orange he ate teased the tip of your tongue.

Flustered and frozen you were when he pulled away, unable to function under his violet gaze. The velvet material of his glove tickled your skin as he lifted your hand to his mouth, accepting the treat straight from your fingertips. Your cheeks burned hotter than midsummer’s noon, heart searching for an escape through the gaps between your ribs.

His smirk pulled higher and he grasped your chin, thumb tracing the shape of your lips before leaning closer to clean a spot of juice from the corner of your mouth with his tongue.

“Why?” You asked, your voice an embarrassed squeak as you hid in his chest.

The commissioner’s chuckle melded with the orange light coming in through the window. “It tasted sweeter that way.”

Childe 💧

An abandoned ruin, ancient scriptures engraved into the walls, stones broken from statues scattered; the undiscovered never felt more thrilling.

Held up by your lover’s arms, your legs wrapped around his waist, back against the cold stone wall; if there was ever a place to fall into the darkness, this would be where.

Feverish kisses threatened to consume you. Hot, sticky hands smeared fruit juice over your cheeks, neck, and well into the roots of your hair. You were his canvas, destined to be covered in pomegranates while drowning in the tart sweetness of his kiss.

Fire ignited in your lungs and with little choice, you turned your chin up and gasped for whatever air the ancient ruins had to offer. Your captor wasn’t done, his crimson stained lips finding unmarked skin along your jaw to paint. He, too, had suffered some stains from the fruit but majority had found it’s way onto you. It seemed you were a magnet for things that left stains in their wake.

Your chest rose and fell in rhythm with hoofbeats as he worked his way down your throat, a bold declaration of what was his to the ancestors that once built this place.

“D-Don’t forget where we are.” You panted, hands betraying words as they gripped his shoulders tighter.

The harbinger licked up a trail of pomegranate smeared over your collarbone. “I haven’t, and quite frankly, I don’t care.”

Cyno ⚡️

A hidden corner, rowdy voices drifting from the floor below, lingering scents of wine in the air; the tavern felt like two worlds in one.

Sitting across from your lover, ankles interlocked with his beneath the table, cards of a duel scattered between you; you weren’t competitive, but to beat the best of the best, this victory you wanted.

The dice rolled in your favour and the match came to its conclusion. Disbelief only held you for a moment before jolts of excitement had you leaping from your chair and surging towards his to claim your prize. The crisp, refreshing taste of grapes made his kiss all the sweeter.

You broke away with a yelp as gravity shifted without warning, but fell into laughter when he gripped the table and set the chair back on solid ground. The characters living within the cards bore witness to the sickeningly sweet affection and praises he gave you, gentle touches exchanged by both sides soothing the high of your accomplishment.

You snuck in one more peck before returning to your chair to shuffle your cards and begin again. The gears in his head seemed to be turning, his silence making your nerves stand on end.

“What’s the matter?” You asked, fearing you celebrated a little too much.

The general mahamatra met your eyes as he reached for the bowl of fruit. “Have I ever told you how grape you are?”

Diluc 🔥

A peaceful lakeside, warm sunshine peaking through the clouds, a cool breeze to offset the heat; you didn’t realize this break was needed.

Sharing a picnic blanket with your lover, one knee touching his, a wide brim hat on your head that he kept adjusting for you; his small, careful actions made you fall in love all over again.

Pastel wings shimmered in the light. Magic dust fell from the butterfly as it circled overhead before making a descent, the man’s nose it’s destination. You giggled and it flew away, creating an opening for you to lean in and taste the sweet and sour watermelon lingering on his lips.

He turned away to sneeze and only then did you realize the butterfly had left behind a kiss of its own. Suppressing a laugh, you held his chin and erased the pollen with a handkerchief, your hands slow and gentle and prolonging the moment. To be jealous of a butterfly - how silly love has made you.

Were you a lovesick fool? Absolutely. Would you follow this man to the ends of the world? Certainly. Will you continue to fall in love with him over and over again? Without a doubt.

“I love you so much it hurts.” You admitted, the words falling from your lips all on their own.

The winery master released a breath. “I hope you can forgive me for causing you such pain. You, on the other hand, are my salvation.”

Heizou 💨

A bustling street, excited voices calling to one another, the strong scent of fresh food in the air; the festival was more lively than you imagined.

Walking hand and hand with your lover, fingers intertwined and destined to never let go, the warmth of his palm seeping into your skin; if anyone could make you feel secure in a crowded place, it was him.

Delicious snacks had been the focus of the date, ones that left tastebuds in paradise and the haze of heaven lingering behind the lids of your eyes. An innocent gesture, a soft peck found its way to your lips, gifting the sweet, tart taste of bright red cherries.

A bridge woven with wisteria and lavender is where he brought you next. Showers of compliments and teasing banter filled the quiet space away from the street, riddles given and answers rewarded by similarly sweet kisses following the first. Each challenge got tricker, and the number of pecks with each reward increased by one with every guess.

After several rounds, you found yourself stumped. The playful, almost cocky, smile on his lips brought out competitiveness but with every passing second, your tongue failed to produce an answer.

“Okay, I give up. What’s in the middle of March and April but not at the end?” You asked, pouting in defeat.

The detective’s grin doubled. “What you can find in the middle of March and April but not the end… is the letter ‘R.”

Itto 🪨

A private beach, radiant sunlight warming the sand, waves caressing the shore line; this was the definition of a classic summer day.

Swimming in the ocean with your lover, safe in his arms as he dragged you through crystal water, his laughter rippling the surface of the ocean; leave it to him to bring out joy in the smallest things.

Launched from the sea, your fingertips grazed the sky but the large hands on your waist kept you from soaring too far. A mass of muscle and optimism broke your fall and the citrusy apple taste of pineapple welcomed your return.

Trapped in his current, holding on was all you could do as he peppered his tropical tasting lips over your face, leaving a scented, winding trail over your skin. He was the mountain and you were the valley, opposites that complimented each other and always looked more beautiful when found together. A valley softened a mountain, and a mountain strengthened a valley.

A laugh fell from your lips and you wiggled in his hold, trying to escape his ticklish kisses. Your glee spurred him on, and lifting you once more, he started his attack all over again.

“I surrender! I admit defeat!” You exclaimed, throwing your head back as another laugh bubbled in your chest.

The oni grinned a wide, proud grin. “Arataki ‘Best Boyfriend Ever’ Itto wins again!”

Kaeya ❄️

A comfortable living room, curtains drawn to dim the light, two glasses of well aged wine just within reach; there wasn’t a more romantic evening.

Legs draped over your lover’s lap, flirtatious comments bouncing back and forth, mismatched eyes drinking you in like the essence of life; no man has ever praised your beauty as he did.

His fingers found a lock of your hair and you handed over ownership to him. Twirl it, part it, whatever he wished, you were more than happy to allow. Not that you had the capacity to think about it when he was enchanting you with the floral, acidic taste of blueberries coating his tongue.

Kissing this man was an experience. Slow and hypnotizing, gentle and passionate, he handled you like a delicate vase yet poured more emotion into you than any one person could handle. You would, though. Until the end of time, you would bottle his released emotions and treasure them so he wouldn’t have carry the burden.

His lips broke away and in a daze you chased after them, but caught yourself and reigned that desire in. Shy, you met his eyes, but all you found was a gentle look and slightly upturned lips.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” You asked, hands creeping up to hide you from his gaze.

The calvary captain chuckled, a silky sound that made your heart pound. “Why? Because there is an angel in front of me, and it would be a sin not to appreciate you.”

Kaveh 🍃

A familiar library, tall shelves stacked full, echoes of voices drifting around the grand room; if only your akademiya days were this enjoyable.

Sharing a chair with your lover, thigh and side pressed flush against his, head resting on his shoulder while your eyes watched his hands; his creations were truly mesmerizing.

The scratching of pencil against paper had become you favourite lullaby but you didn’t want to sleep yet. Not while the man next to you looked so handsome when focused and, unable to resist, you tapped his arm and leaned in until you tasted the citrusy melon flavour of mango from his lips.

His skin flushed as red as the flowers decorating the table, knuckles turning white as his grip on the pencil tightened in surprise. A whisper of a giggle escaped on your next breath and temptation claimed victory again, urging you to tap his nose and give his cheek a light pinch. Gorgeous vermillion eyes doubled in size and your stomach flipped in adoration.

He groaned and dropped his head into his hands, mumbling words beneath his breath that didn’t quite reach your ears.

“What’s the matter?” You asked, finding satisfaction in the red hue covering his ears.

The architect kept his gaze hidden, though you could hear the higher note in his voice. “You… Gah! I can’t take you anywhere!”

Kazuha 💨

A magical meadow, white blossoms raining down from above, two birds crafting a nest in a tree; a beautiful place to stop for a rest.

Sitting in front of your lover, relaxing into the touch of his fingers arranging your hair, the humming of a song spilling from his vocal cords as he worked; you could never get enough of his gentleness.

He tied the elastic to hold your braid and leaned forward to brush his lips over your cheek. Skin growing warm, you shuffled around to face him and leaned in to thank him with a proper kiss. The peach he had eaten recently left a floral sweetness on his lips.

A dreamy, childlike giddiness washed over you as you pulled away, giggling softly and rocking back and forth where you sat. His chuckle mixed with the wind and was carried through the meadow, encouraging young flowers to blossom and a curious chipmunk sneak closer to investigate. Even the birds nesting above seemed to relax.

Your hand found it’s way into his palm and, bringing it to his lips, he kissed every knuckle. Your insides turned to mush, and if it were possible, you would have melted into a puddle.

“I know that look.” You said, spirits rising even higher in anticipation of what was coming.

The ronin closed his eyes and hummed. “Wind and blue bird songs, scent of peaches in the air, with you peace is true.”

Neuvillette💧

A grand opera house, rows upon rows of empty seats, an atmosphere that demanded respect; someone like you didn’t belong up here.

Observing from above with your lover, standing at his side while he lost himself in thought, his presence so revered yet so gentle; why in all of Teyvat did his heart select you?

The trial concluded some time ago yet his frown still lingered. You tugged his sleeve and called his name, waiting for his attention to shift before standing on the tips of your toes. The plums you had brought as a snack left sweet, slightly tart taste to his lips.

Admiration and respect couldn’t begin to express how grateful you were for the hard job he does. The tides can change and rock the boats of life, flipping some over and knocking people into a sea of bad choices. Only a man like him can wield kindness and fairness and point them in the direction of shore, even if they had to swim to it themselves.

The tightness of his frown finally relaxed, one hand lifting to cup your cheek. You nuzzled into his palm, holding his hand against your face and falling victim to the vibrancy of his eyes.

“What’s on your mind?” You asked, slipping your thumb beneath the cuff of his sleeve to trace circles on his wrist.

The chief justice kindly shook his head. “The matter is settled now, and continuing to ponder serves no benefit. Thank you for guiding my thoughts back.”

Thoma 🔥

A lovely courtyard, not a speck of dust out of place, every bush and hedge trimmed to perfection; the hard work put in here couldn’t be questioned.

Sitting on the edge of the deck with your lover, bathed in the glow of the golden hour, his smile warming you down to your very soul; you didn’t think a love found in fairytales could be real.

The plate set between you was filled with taste testers of desserts he asked you to try. Each one was just as delicious as the last, but your favourite taste was the lemon clinging to his lips, the sour flavour turned slightly sweeter with sugar from the candy.

When you finally accepted the darkness that followed you, he appeared and banished it with a light too pure for this world. Kindness, compassion, hard-working and friendly to all, the innocent parts you lost came back through him. Walls cracked, a heart started to beat again, and though you haven’t recovered everything, the hardened parts of yourself were now tough with determination to protect his spirit so it would never be crushed.

He handed you a cup and asked for your thoughts. You didn’t need long to find an answer, but taking a few silent moments just to admire him soothed your soul and excited your heart.

“I loved them all, but I love you more.” You said, strong emotion coming alive beneath your skin.

The housekeeper blushed and scratched the back of his head. “I’m really glad to hear that, but I don’t know how much more my heart can take. It feels like it’s ready to burst out of me.”

Wriothesley ❄️

A secure fortress, hidden and protected beneath the ocean, a safe space made of steel to house convicts; truly, an odd place to call home.

Hunched over the table with your lover, the aroma of tea fusing with the air, paperwork passing between hands for corrections or filing; quite the team the two of you make.

Noticing the dish holding his snack was empty, you set your papers aside and got up to take it away, but not before planting a surprise kiss on his cheek. Your victory was short lived and in the blink of an eye, the faintly sweet taste of pear coated your lips.

A squeaked escaped you but the sound was muffled by his mouth, strong arms drawing you closer and solid body twisting to pin you against the couch. Instinctively you relaxed, muscles going limp in the ultimate form of acceptance and trust. If there was anyone you would charge ahead blindly for, it was him. If there was anyone you would swim in the Primordial Sea for, it was him.

He released your lips and a whine you tried to contain broke free. Immediately your face flared with heat and you grabbed the small pillow to aid you in hiding. The way this man affected you really wasn’t fair.

“Where did that come from?” You asked, voice a pitch higher than usual.

The duke chuckled, the sound wrapping around you like a heated blanket. “I thought we were playing a game of who could catch the other off guard. Did I assume wrong?”

Xiao 💨

A scenic cliffside, bushes of wild berries as far as the eyes could see, bunnies hoping through the grass; you’ve never felt so in tune with a place.

Picking berries with your lover, hand brushing against his each time you added to the basket, his eyes scanning the area every so often for danger; you always felt safe when he was with you.

Feeling mischievous, you plucked a berry from the bush and pushed it to his lips. He raised a brow but nevertheless ate it, and after he chewed and swallowed, you tapped your lips and asked for a sweet, strawberry kiss.

The fruit on his lips coloured your world in pastels, softened the edges and pulled you into your very own story book. The inn in the distance became your castle, this cliffside your sanctuary, and the man next to you was your valiant guard to keep the danger away. Though he sometimes feigned your whims as troublesome, he usually went along with them anyway. Would he do so now?

Wanting to try, you cleaned your hands on your pants before grabbing his and pulling him to stand with you. He eyed you suspiciously, but didn’t fight as you arranged his posture to one suitable for dancing.

“This is fun, isn’t it?” You asked, brimming with an innocent, childlike joy.

The yaksha huffed, but there was a gentleness in his eyes not even he could hide. “I have no idea what’s going on inside your head, but if this makes you happy, then I can put up with it.”

Zhongli 🪨

An elevated balcony, businesses thriving on the street below, hoots and hollers from the docks in the distance; the city was thriving as well as ever.

Sharing a bench with your lover, wrapped in his embrace with a book in his hands, the richness of his voice easing your anxieties; you never knew someone could be so calming.

He turned the page and continued to read. Absentmindedly you played with the lapels of his jacket, more focused on your thoughts than the story. When he noticed, he bent his head to cover your lips, sharing the mildly sweet taste of dragon fruit.

The fruit was served as a snack to compliment the tea. It’s a new blend you found while running errands, and it was the shopkeeper who recommended pairing it with the fruit. At first you weren’t sure of the combination, but now that you’ve tasted it in the most romantic of ways, you found that you quite enjoyed it.

Nuzzling into his warmth, you tried again to focus on the story but, just as before, your mind drifted. This time, however, your head was filled with thoughts of the man whom you loved more than life itself.

“You’re beautiful, you know that?” You said, tracing the line of his jaw with your index finger.

The archon stopped reading and chuckled, casting you a soft smile. “My dear, I thank you for the compliment. However, I believe your beauty bests mine.”

#genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #genshin alhaitham #genshin ayato #genshin childe #genshin cyno #genshin diluc #genshin heizou #genshin itto #genshin kaeya #genshin kaveh #genshin kazuha #genshin neuvillette #genshin thoma #genshin wriothesley #genshin xiao #genshin zhongli

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eveenstar · 3 months

Note

heii!! ^^, can you make another hoodie x reader one-shot? i've come to love ALL of your scenarios ,, left me wanting more :D

if you don't want to do this... well! thats fine, i'd understand! ^^

maybe... hoodie's hurt? and reader cares for him?

hurt, as in, wounded! like, knife stab or something!

thank you,

take care

One injured Hoodie coming through! This was interesting to write. Hope you enjoy! Sorry it's short. Take care! ♡

your blood in my hands (and I wouldn't have it any other way) | Brian Thomas/Hoodie

tw: reader's gender isn't specified. Obvious blood mentions, nothing too gory.

Beneath your hands, Brian lays as still as a rock. He doesn't flinch from your touch, not after the last three reprimands you muttered under your breath. It was odd enough that he let you tend to his wound, even more that he actually listened to you! Then again, there was a bullet wound on his body. Thankfully, it hadn't punctured any organs. Still, you were surprised someone had managed to survive long enough to shoot him.

Ah, well, Brian wasn't a young man anymore. He was closer to his mid forties than his mid twenties.

And with the number of Americans now possessing guns as if it were candy? Tsk. That was bad for business. Brian's business, that is.

"That's enough." Brian uttered, pulling himself up to his feet - and almost sliding back down onto the blood-stained chair with a frustrated hiss. "Fuck.."

"You lost too much blood." You sat back, rummaging through the old medpack. Living with a stalker-killer "employed" by an eldritch being, far away from any civilization, had forced you to take on skills such as cleaning wounds (of any kind), sewing and cooking with the bare least you had.

You sighed. "I thought... Why did you take on such a mission alone? Why not take a lesser one with you?"

"It is what He asked of me."

The words fell off painted in tones of melancholy and numbness. There was no trace of emotion behind them, like a corpse. If it wasn't for his beating heart or the living blood that stained your hands, you would've thought Brian was as much of a dead man as those that fell to his hands.

Resigned, you closed the medpack. "Then you should tell him that you are not allowed to go on any missions that aren't scavenging for information."

For the first time that morning, a hint of emotion reflected on his eyes. Raising an eyebrow, a wheeze of laughter escaped his lips. "Allowed?"

"Yes," You mimicked his expression. "You care for me, I care for you. That was our deal."

"Our deal," Brian leaned forward, supporting his elbows on his knees. He bared his teeth at you in a low hiss, "did not include you bossing me around."

Still mimicking him, you too leaned closer until the tips of your noses were grazing each other. "Consider our deal emended."

For the briefest of moments, you thought Brian would lash out, pull you away as he always did. When his eyes narrowed, you prepared yourself for the worst. Your gazes met, and you hoped to see the man behind the walls Brian built around himself. You had his blood in your hands, but you didn't have his heart. No, his heart already belonged to something far above you.

Far darker.

The flicker of his gaze to your lips did not go unnoticed. You were close enough to smell the iron-blood in his skin and feel his breath mixing with yours. You believed Brian would kiss you right then and there.

Instead, he stood to his feet with unprompted strength. With a low rumble, he said, "Your skill with the needle has improved."

You assumed that was his way of thanking you and acknowledging your efforts. One, for removing the bullet. Two, for cleaning the wound. Three, for stitching it. You huffed lightly; Brian should be thankful you didn't take advantage of his altered state, stumbling bloody upon the kitchen at early sunrise and take him out of his misery right then and there.

Then again, you doubted you could take a man of his size and strength even when injured. A deep but low voice whispered in the back of your mind that that was not the only reason; you were in this with Brian. There was no turning back. Surely, no one sane enough would happily remain in your position.

Maybe you two weren't so different after all.

#brian thomas x reader #hoodie x reader #marble hornets x reader #creepypasta x reader #hoodie creepypasta

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yestrday · 2 years

Note

ah, but can you imagine yandere third years seeing you in a maid outfit?? i think they might just die LMAO

the theme might be school festival, and your class is doing a maid cafe so which means, you'll have to serve them and call them ... :D

ah, yes. the overdone clichè trope. but there's a reason why it's so popular! who doesn't wanna see cute people in cute maid outfits, right?

your class has just decided on the traditional yet iconic maid cafe trope, courtesy of your ever-adoring harem classmates who want to see you all dolled up. come opening day, however, they start to regret it... because the damn third years keep hogging you to themselves.

venti quickly dashes to your room as fast as he can when he finds out. you barely hold on to the dishes you're holding when he pounces on you, squeeing in glee at how adorable you look. he's a bit too touchy when there are a lot of people around and you have to squirm and whine before you can successfully push him away.

enthusiastically, he takes a seat at a table where he can easily see you in whatever corner of the room. his eyes are sparkling when you finally come up to him to take his order. he takes a bit too long, taking his time to flirt and ramble just so he can get a closer view when a passing scara gruffly snaps at him to hurry the fuck up.

ohhhh this is just too much! venti can barely hold himself back any longer, but he really doesn't want to be more of a nuisance to you than he already is. he makes a mental note to buy you a maid dress exactly like this one, maybe even a little bit... shorter? ehehe ♡

maybe he'll convince you to wear them over at his house, with a few other costumes he'd like to try. y'know, for a spark of inspiration?

oh yeah, baby that's what i'm talking about. diluc's seen plenty of maid dresses in his life— his mansion's full of em— but never did he come across as one so alluring and sexy as yours! maybe it's because you're the one wearing it, but diluc is desperately trying to hide his blush behind the menu.

he tries to busy himself with the menu, but it's hard not to sneak glances at you. the skimpy chest heart window winking at him, the soft thighs where your frilly skirt ends and your knee-high socks begin... this is too much. not to mention the sweet smile you plaster for all your customers. man is down bad. it doesn't take a genius to see that he's really into this.

the moment is ruined when he sees other people eyeing you with sultry gazes. how dare they, tainting you with such impure gazes. there's a scream somewhere and you rush over to a customer where a knife is suddenly lodged just right between his legs.

when you look around the room for the suspect, you think you see a self-satisfied smirk on diluc, but his face returns to its default state before you could take a closer look.

he's not gonna let such a delicious opportunity slip by! once he's entered the room he starts hogging you to himself and no one can do anything about it because this is kaeya we're talking about. that and he paid good mora for your time.

he makes sultry comments about your maid and likes to watch you squirm and blush from his compliments. you're way too cute, fiddling with the ends of your skirt and bashfully looking down at the floor. seriously, look at him in the eye when taking his order! how are you gonna get it right otherwise?

when you do, he suddenly pulls you in such close proximity that anyone watching would think that he was about to pull a move on you. you freeze up with a bright blush as you stare at kaeya's teasing smile and deep gaze. he lets you go with a laugh, saying that he's only jesting.

somewhere in the makeshift kitchen, thoma is pulling back an angry scaramouche holding a ladle and pan.

zhongli makes his presence immediately known in the room, commanding everyone's attention including yours. it's clear to the other maids and butlers that he only wants you to wait on him, with the way his golden eyes rest on your figure. besides, serving zhongli meant having to live up to his high standards and no one thinks they have the guts to do so.

you don't get the nervous smiles on your co-workers' faces. after all, this is the gentlemanly zhongli that would tell you stories in the tea club room! you bound over to him with a sweet smile and your most customer-friendly voice. his stoic face softens up when he sees how eager you are to serve him.

the maid dress... it's certainly doing things to him. his fine eye can see how much attention the designer has put into your dress, more so than the uniforms of your classmates. it's made out of finer quality and catches your curves beautifully. he appreciates the artistry behind it, but at the same time, his possessive side snarls at how you flaunt your body for the world to see.

he'll have a word with you on this later. a one-on-one talk from a worried senior to a filthy junior.

childe might just get a nosebleed from how adorable you look in that maid outfit. you can't blame him, you know, when you look so inviting with how tight the thing is on you.

he teases you during the time when he's there, loving how you flare up in embarrassment at his flirty remarks. oh, how cute your glare is when you huffily slam his order down in front of him. he can see the steam blowing out of your ears as he continues to provoke you.

this! this is the life! who hasn't heard of a maid that'd beat the shit out of the master? it's a classic trope that he's goading you to unwittingly play for him. you want to give him the cold shoulder whenever he stays, but he only ever orders when you wait on him and your class really wants the money...

when you pass by him, he pulls you down into his lap and whispers in your ear. you almost go dizzy from how embarrassed you are, shooting a glare over your shoulder as you march away. childe laughs as he waves you off, smirking at the deal he proposed.

being the prissy rich boy that he is, ayato must simply have two people waiting on him whenever he stops by: you and thoma, namely. it's amusing to see both of you squirm when subjected to his teasing. do you really think he doesn't see the way you both exchanged flustered glances? it's really cute.

the food is... eh. nothing compared to the gourmet food he's served every day, but he quickly finds out that even the blandest meal becomes delectable when served by you. he's eyes you shamelessly as you nervously write a ketchup message over his omurice and pour his tea. you're clumsy, but even that has it's own charm.

thoma sighs at how you're subjugated to his young master's whims, but even more when he sees ayato's lustful stare. perhaps the maid dress is really doing a number on him, because he's usually not this shameless when there's a lot of people around.

ayato thinks of whisking you away to his estate, where he can freely demand you to feed him by hand his food without the prying gazes of others.

this is definitely ms. hina tier, if not more. if only you could stay still for a moment so he can take a picture... def– definitely not so he can print a cardboard cutout of you! HAHAHAHAHA haha ha ha...

it's not the arataki gang if they don't obnoxiously barge in and disrupt the atmosphere, with shinobu trailing behind them as she attempts to cover her face. they rudely demand some waiters and no one's willing to put up with them, so of course they responsibility falls on you.

and itto is definitely pleased with this arrangement when he sees you bounding up to him in such a tight thing! and even more when he sees the absolute territory... his eyes almost pop out of their sockets. he becomes flirtier and his eyes turn predatory. the gang teases him and whoops the both of you, but you shiver when you notice this rather uncharacteristic development.

shinobu smiles to herself under her mask, already thinking about what favors itto will ask of her regarding you...

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veeisdunn · 1 year

Text

You and me

part II -- Distractions

Tommy & Finn Shelby x sister!reader

warning: character self harm, suicide attempt

WC: 2.5K

MASTERLIST

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

The front door clicked behind Finn and he sighed. Peace at last. He had gotten out of his obligations at the shop early due to his twin feeling under the weather. At least, that's what you'd told him.

The air in the house was stagnant. He expected you to be rushing to greet him.

Y/N is sick, you idiot.

He peered upstairs, your door was wide open. You weren't there.

"Y/N?" He called out. Silence followed by a chair scraping across the stone floor. You were in the kitchen with the door shut.

Finn took his coat and hat off, hanging them up by the entrance way before swinging the kitchen door open without warning.

He was hit with a metallic stench, mixed with the salt of fresh tears. Blood. His eyes darted and fell on his sister. You stood in the corner, wearing one of Arthur's old knitted jumpers, your eyes laced with pure fear.

You tried to open your mouth, but your lips trembled and nothing came out.

"Y/N! What the bloody hell happened?" He demanded, perhaps a little too harshly. He walked over to you in an attempt to drag you out of the corner, his mind racing. Did someone break in? Is she hurt? Did someone hurt her?! His thoughts all ceased when he touched your sleeve and realised it was sticky and soggy.

"Finn. Leave" Your voice croaked, strained by your previous cries and wails, all of which went unheard.

He looked down to see his hand stained red from the dark stain on your sleeve. The blood, your blood, seeping into the crevasses of his skin. Finn went to raise your sleeve but you recoiled, somehow pushing your body deeper into the corner. He stood over you, trapping you.

Finn's eyes darted around the room. And that's when he saw it. A razor blade on the kitchen table, covered in fresh blood. No doubt stolen from one of their caps.

You let out a small whine once you were certain he knew. Finn stepped back, visibly disturbed. "Show me."

"Finn, please… Leave." you begged, repeating yourself, tears streaming down your sullen cheeks.

He ignored you and forcefully pushed up your sleeve. You winced out in pain as he winced with horror. Your wrist was unrecognisable, it was absolutely destroyed. There was barely any skin left to see due to the blood pouring from the vertical slices.

Finn thought he was used to seeing blood. He had become a fully-fledged peaky blinder after the death of their brother John, however nothing could have prepared him for the blood of his sister spilling out in their own home.

Wordlessly, he grabbed a tea towel and pressed it into your arm. You sobbed and your knees buckled. Finn was speechless.

"I have to call someone, Y/N" He spoke, his tone giving off both anger and sorrow "I don't know what to do."

"No, no don’t. I can deal with it." You sobbed, pleading with him desperately.

He ignored you and grabbed the phone that was on the wall, putting in the number for the company offices. You tried to grab the phone from him but he turned his body away, keeping his other hand firmly over the towel on your wrist.

One of the young assistants picked up the phone.

"It's Finn Shelby. Whose in? I need to speak to family." He demanded hastily

"One moment Mr Shelby." a calm voice spoke on the other end "The only family in the office is Mr Thomas Shelby"

You shook your head furiously, silently begging as you choked on your tears. Finn ignored you.

"Put me through"

click

"Hello? Who's this?" Tommy's voice was gruff and tired

"Tommy, I need help. Y/N's hurt." Finn blurted out, immediately getting his older brother’s attention.

"Where are you?" He demanded, his voice switching to fully alert. "What the fuck happened?"

"Home. She cut herself Tommy, really really badly." He spluttered. You tried to fight against his grip so you could escape, but he used his body weight to push you into the wall.

A muffled slam came through the other end of the phone and the line went dead. He'd be there in a matter of minutes.

Looking back down at you, he could almost smell the fear. Finn had never dealt with anything like this before. Sure, his siblings had other addictions but this was different. Your gaze refused to meet him, you had rarely seen Finn appear this pissed.

“Just leave. I know you’re angry. I can’t deal with two of you mad with me” You begged, your voice cracking.

“No” Finn quipped, force in his voice. “I’m not angry. I just don’t know what to do.” He was being painfully honest, “What do you want me to do?”

“I want you to get out.” You blurted back, unable to recognise his confusion and desperation due to the racing of your thoughts.

“Y/N,” he interrupted, “I’m not leaving you.”

You let out a pained sniffle and he began to crack. Finn tried so hard to put on a tough act but you were making it impossible. He hadn’t cried since John’s funeral. Without warning, he pulled you into his chest, keeping one hand over your arm. He buried his head into your hair in an attempt to hide his sobs. He’d already lost one sibling this year and he couldn't lose another - but the young man was so confused. Why the hell would she do this?

There was a brief moment of silence before the front door swung open forcefully, slamming into the wall with the force of an explosion. your body convulsed as you tried to fight out of Finn’s grip, only making him hold on tighter.

Tommy ran to the pair and rested his hand on Finn’s shoulder, prompting him to pull away, leaving you to lean against the brick wall, a shaking mess. It was a foreign sight for both men, who were used to seeing their sister’s tough facade. Tommy took Finn’s place in front of you which allowed Finn to lean up against the door and process what the hell had just happened, putting his head in his blood-covered hands.

Tommy’s new perspective highlighted the severity of the situation. There was blood everywhere. Floor, walls, both of the twins, and now himself. You cried out with paralysing fear and pain as your older brother lifted the towel off wrist to inspect the damage. He winced and took a sharp inward breath, before grabbing a fresh towel from the shelf above you and applying more pressure to your injury.

“I’m gonna clean you up, eh? You don’t need to say anything, just sit down”

“Finn, get me the first aid kit from under the sink and some whisky.” The elder brother ordered, but spoke with a cautiously soft tone, sensing that his youngest brother was on the edge of breaking, tears free falling down his cheeks. He hadn’t been seen crying like this since he was a child.

Tommy turned back to face you. “Love, look at me.”

You obliged, your eyes shaking in their sockets.

You nodded, gratefully, and slid down the wall to the floor. Finn came back over to you both with the supplies his brother requested.

Tommy popped open the bottle. You bit your lip in anticipation of the pain.

“I’m sorry love. It’s gonna sting a little.” He warned. The second the cold liquid hit your skin, your entire body shook. Finn instinctively reached over to grab your other hand.

Tommy then wiped away the blood, getting a clearer view of what you had done. The cuts were deep and vertically running from your wrist downwards. He had never seen anyone cut themselves in this manner. Was she just trying to hurt herself or was she-?

He hastily opened one of the drawers above where the Shelby twins were collapsed in a ball to pull out the sewing kit. He knew deep down he should get a doctor, but he also knew that you were in no state to deal with anymore people around you. Tommy had ample experience stitching his friends up in the trenches, or his men after fights - but this was different. He desperately didn’t want to hurt you or make the scarring worse.

His thoughts were interrupted with your head dropping to look at the floor while you let out gut-wrenching sobs. Finn crawled over, practically on top of you, and pulled you in for another embrace, Tommy still gripping your injured arm. She’s gonna need stitches.

He let out a deep sigh. “Y/N, I’n going to have to sew you up.” You tried to retract your arm but Tommy’s grip was too strong. Finn held onto you tighter. “Let him help you.” He whispered into your ear. You didn’t respond.

Tommy trusted Finn to hold you down. He took a needle and a thin piece of thread out, dipping them both in the bottle of whisky. Only one cut looked like it needed stitches, doing the others would risk tearing your skin. He bent the needle into a half-moon shape, just as he’d been shown many years ago by an army medic.

Without warning, the alcohol soaked needle penetrated your tender skin, knotting the end of your cut together. You let out a cry, though it was muffled partially by Finn’s waistcoat. Fin on the other hand was letting out audible sobs that echoed throughout the room.

Perhaps he could feel it, Tommy thought. Polly always said they could feel each other's pain- gypsy magic.

“Nearly done.” Tommy mumbled, mainly to himself. “Nearly finished.” He reached the end of the cut, near the inside of your elbow, and finished it off with another knot. After cutting the thread he poured the rest of the whisky on top of your arm. Finn cautiously looked down and inspected the neat row of stitches which were doing a successful job of stopping the flow of blood.

“It’s ok. He’s all finished, yeah? You did so well.” Finn spoke softly into your ear, you just sniffled in response.

“Can you wrap her up, Finn? I need to wash my hands.” Tommy gestured down to his dripping red hands. Finn wordlessly released his embrace and picked up the bandage from the first aid kit. He delicately wrapped the cream fabric around your arm, leaning his forehead against yours.

“Cmon. Living room. We need to talk.” Tommy spoke quietly, walking out of the room.

Finn looked down to you. Was she always this small? He stood up slowly and pulled you up, using the wall to support you. Your silence was scaring him, you hadn’t spoken a word since Tom’s arrival.

In the living room, the older brother chucked wood into the fire (a fleeting attempt at releasing his anger) and lit it with the lighter from his pocket. The quaint orange flame quickly engulfed the bark, exploding into a waltz of embers. Satisfied, he sat on the sofa, resting his elbows on his knees and looking at the open door. In the corner of his eyes, Tommy saw a yellow envelope on the table, confirming his fears. She’d left a suicide note. Wordlessly, he took it and slipped it into his blazer pocket. Finn emerged from the kitchen, his hand on your back, practically pushing you into the room.

“Sit.” Tommy gestured to the sofa opposite them.

He cleared his throat, looking at his two youngest siblings, the innocent ones.

“Y/N. Before we get into how you’re feeling, I need to ask, is that the first time this has happened?” Tommy asked, using his stoic business voice to hide his sorrow.

Wordlessly, you shook your head.

“When did this start?” Finn asked softly, caressing the bandage on your wrist.

“I - I’m really sorry.” You croaked.

“Y/N. When did this start?” Tommy asked with more force in his voice.

“A few years ago.” You whispered in shame. “But it’s been on and off.”

“Were you trying to kill yourself?” Tommy asked, refusing to skate around the issue. Finn’s eyes widened in horror as he looked over at Tommy. He hadn’t allowed the thought to cross his mind.

Again, you shook your head silently, this time lying. Tommy pulled the note out of his pocket and left it on the table in front of you both. Finn’s face dropped as his breathing began to shake. He thought he was going to be sick. He couldn’t imagine a second without you - his literal other half. “What the fuck?” he half cried, half shouted. “You seriously were going to leave me?” You burst into tears.

“Ay, both of yous.” Tommy spoke up “Finn, don’t shout.”

“You were going to leave me.” Tommy felt seriously out of his depth, watching Finn cry out while you sobbed, shifting away from him.

“Why?” Finn begged, holding onto your shoulders. Tommy sat back and allowed them to talk, after all, he was double their ages and didn’t feel qualified to comfort either of them. “I know you struggle with depression, but we talk-” Finn cut himself off, knowing full well that since John’s death and his official inauguration into the Peaky Blinders, your once frequent talks had ceased. “I’m sorry Y/N, I’m so so sorry.” He wept “this is all my fault.”

“No blame game.” Tommy cut in, “Y/N, what’s going on inside that head of yours, ey?” He dropped his serious-Mr-Shelby voice in favour of his caring brother-Tommy tones.

“I just, I feel so empty and alone. I’m such a deadweight. I can’t do anything except make people sad.” The words freely tumbled from your mouth before you even had a chance to register them. “I can’t go on like this, but I don’t want to hurt you guys more.”

Finn once again grabbed you and pulled you into a hug.

“Chin up, look at me.” Both of you looked up at their elder brother, Finn squeezing your hand so tight his knuckles were white.

“Did you seriously think this would solve anything? Finn needs you, Arthur needs you, Ada, Polly, me” Tommy spoke, not caring that his words might have seemed harsh. This tactic worked on Arthur in the Garrison, it would hopefully work again.

“This ends today.” Tommy ordered, “No more suffering in silence, you are to come to one of us next time you feel these urges. I’m sure Finn will keep close watch on you and we will be checking your body for cuts daily.”

Finn hummed in response, siffling down his tears. “It’s you and me, remember?” He spoke softly, recalling when you were both just kids during the war.

You both sat on the wall at the bank of the cut, your little legs hanging over the edge. “It’s you and me, Y/N.” Finn spoke out suddenly, breaking the comfortable silence between them.

“Us against the world.” You smiled, gazing off into the distance.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

part II -- distractions

please drop me a comment or message with any feedback or suggestions! I'd love to hear from you ♡

Vee x

MASTERLIST

#peaky blinders #peaky fucking blinders #thomas shelby #tommy shelby #shelby #finn shelby #angst #hurt #comfort #shelby sister #peaky fookin blinders #cillian murphy #peaky blinder fanfic #peaky blinder imagine #imagines #peaky blinder imagines #shelby sis

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makethatelevenrings · 1 year

Text

Chag Sameach // Jewish!Batmom!Reader & family

Requested? Yes!

Warnings: a lot of mentions of food, I know that can be difficult around the holiday season

Summary: A blended family of faith comes together to celebrate the holiday season through Damian’s eyes

A/N: I’m not Jewish so please let me know if I messed anything up!! Happy Hanukkah my lovelies :) Bruce is canonically Jewish, Dick and Duke are in my mind Jewish, Jason IMO was raised Catholic, Tim is totally raised atheist as is Cass, Alfred is Anglican, and Steph was raised culturally Christian. She’s just here for the sweets.

Everyone was acting differently.

Todd wasn’t arguing with Father and instead, Damian passed him earlier in the kitchen where the crime lord had a “Kiss the Cook” apron on and was bent over a tray on the counter, piping bag clutched tightly in hand. Perhaps he was poisoning Drake…

Pennyworth was flitting between the kitchen and the main living room, glittering tinsel in hand that trailed after him along the carpet. Drake was somewhere with Thomas, both of them looking intently at their phones and whispering between each other. Brown and Cassandra were outside, that much he knew, doing who knows what.

Damian found Richard in the main hall balancing a tray in both hands with a large smile on his face. He lit up when he saw Damian and gestured with his head to follow him. Thus, the culprit of everyone’s strangely amicable behavior was located.

You.

Father’s wife.

The woman who clearly wasn’t suited to be the matriarch of the Wayne name. Not like his mother. You were not a warrior. In fact, Damian believed you to be completely helpless. Yet Father seemed taken by you and one of the stipulations about living here was that Damian must respect you. Even Richard was firm in that rule.

You stood in the middle of the living room, arms crossed and eyes narrowed as Father maneuvered a large pine tree into one of the corners of the room. You called out directions until Father stuck his head out from around the tree and leveled you with a stare Damian had seen him use on Ivy and Quinn. You merely smirked and raised your hands in a thumbs up. Father moved out from behind the tree and nodded at Damian before taking one of the trays from Grayson.

You turned and lit up at the sight of Damian. Despite his coldness towards you, you had never once been unkind. It grated on his nerves. Surely, you had some kind of ulterior motive as to your deceitful kindness. He was determined to get to the bottom of this.

“Damian, good afternoon!” you greeted. “You’re just in time. The sun sets in thirty minutes so we’ll light the chanukiah and then decorate the tree.”

You paused, a conflicted look passing over your face and then you sighed. “Oh, Damian, I’m sorry. I never thought to ask if you celebrate either.”

“Either?” He was confused by all the decorations and trinkets scattered around the room. It looked like a glitter bomb had gone off, but Pennyworth didn’t look too frazzled at the mess. It was then that he saw the kippah on Father and Richard’s heads.

“Tonight is the first night of Hanukkah,” you explained. “When Jason first joined us…”

You trailed off, pain glinting in your eyes at the thought of a young Todd compared to the man he was now. Father joined your side and laid a hand on your shoulder. You offered him a small, shy smile and whispered out a thanks.

“Your father, Dick, and I are all Jewish so we always celebrated Hanukkah. When Jason joined us, we figured it wasn’t fair that he and Alfred didn’t get to celebrate Christmas with others so we decided to combine the two. Hanukkahmas. Christmakkah. So, the first night of lighting the chanukiah, we also decorate the Christmas tree. It’s silly, but it’s our tradition.”

Richard swooped in then, laying a kiss on his adoptive mother’s cheek. He then ruffled Damian’s hair despite his best efforts to get away.

“Don’t worry, little D, we’ll celebrate Ramadan too for you.”

You nodded eagerly. “Yes! And if there’s any specific foods you like to break the fast, please let me know. We’d love to have you join us tonight, Damian.”

Based on the excited grin on Richard’s face, Damian couldn’t refuse. He sighed but relented, allowing Richard to put a red and white fluffy hat on his head. The brim slipped over his eyes and he shoved it back with a disgruntled huff, but you were grinning at the sight of the two boys' antics.

Maybe this wouldn’t be a total disaster.

Damian was put to task stringing popcorn on a fishing line and fighting off the vultures known as his family as they swooped in to steal a few kernels here and there. Someone had dragged one of the larger tables usually used for galas into the room and platters of food appeared, filling up the surface until Damian could no longer see any wood.

“Hey, baby bird,” Brown greeted as she and Cassandra entered the room. Thomas trailed after the two, a kippah on his head too. Brown started to reach for one of the powdered desserts but you materialized out of seemingly thin air and swatted her hand away.

“Not until Bruce does the blessing, you little thief,” you warned, but there was no heat behind your words. Damian was always confused by the lack of punishment received for behavior here. At Nanda Parbat, misbehaving and denying orders was met with violence. Here, it was met with teasing words from you and a stern lecture if it was a serious discrepancy. You were weak, he thought, for not preparing them for the cruelties of this world like his grandfather had.

“Alright, last thing for the table,” Todd announced as he entered the room with a large dutch oven cradled between two potholders. You clapped your hands in excitement and moved some dishes aside so he could set it down in the center.

“This is brisket,” you explained to Damian, “but we have plenty of vegetarian options too. Hummus, noodle kugel, latkes…a lot of latkes. Christ on a bike, Jason, could you have made any more latkes? We also have sufganiyot, rugelach, kugel, sfenj, and some Christmas cookies already…and we’re having matzo ball soup on the eighth night. Vegetarian, of course.”

Todd sidled up next to you, his large frame towering over his adoptive mother. You rested a hand on his arm and squeezed, a silent thanks for assisting Alfred with all of the food. He dipped his chin in response and then hugged you. Damian watched as the older boy practically melted in your embrace, something he had never seen. Todd was always cold and harsh, holding himself in a way that meant he was on alert constantly.

“The sun has set,” Alfred announced. The rest of the family had piled into the room and they crowded around the silver chanukkiah that sat on one of the tables. Richard lit the middle candle as Bruce began to say the three blessings. You murmured the occasional Hebrew word in response to the prayer, but the family remained quiet as Bruce prayed and Dick lit the candle. Once the first candle was lit and Bruce ended the prayer, you clapped your hands together and shooed everyone towards the family.

“Eat, eat. Nosh a little. We’ll decorate the tree after presents.”

Damian was struck with panic for a second. Presents? Was he supposed to get anyone something? No one else appeared nervous. They were all focused on loading up their plates and scattering around the living room.

You didn’t head towards the food. Instead, Damian watched as you pulled a blanket off of a basket tucked next to the chair you usually sat in. The basket was overflowing with wrapped gifts and you picked a few out, depositing them in the lap of the respective person. Damian was surprised when you stopped in front of him and smiled, holding out a gift wrapped in paper that had animals printed all over it.

“Happy Hanukkah, Damian. I like to give everyone gifts for the eight nights. Something small. Don’t worry about getting us anything. It’s more of a thing I like to do.” Your words eased his stress. He cautiously tore at the paper and found a fresh sketchbook, pencils, and watercolors inside. You had already moved on to hand a gift to Alfred.

He ran his fingers along the smooth paper and smiled despite himself. Maybe you weren’t totally useless.

For seven more nights, the family gathered in the living room to play games, watch movies, and eat. Seriously, it was a shit ton of food. You flitted about the room all night, anxious to ensure everyone was enjoying themselves. The gifts you gave were perfect, but Damian would never admit that. In lieu of gelt, other than the chocolate coins that Drake and Richard were battling over currently, you had donated ten thousand dollars to a charity each person supported, including Damian’s favorite animal shelter in the city.

He didn’t understand it. He had been nothing but frigid to you since arriving at the Manor. Yet, you were still suffused with warmth that leaked out of you and showering him with kindness and gifts. So on the eighth night, while everyone else was focused on the epic dreidel battle between Cassandra and Todd, Damian slowly approached where you were seated on the couch, curled up against Father’s side.

“Hey, need something?” you asked. You were ready to spring off the couch and serve him, but Damian merely thrust a neatly wrapped box in your direction. Your lips parted in a soft, surprised gasp and you thanked him as you accepted the gift. Slowly and meticulously, you unwrapped the gift and opened the small box under the paper to find a beautiful handmade portrait of the whole family.

“Oh, Damian,” you whispered. “It’s amazing. This is the greatest gift anyone has ever given me.”

“Happy Hanukkah.”

You handed the box to Bruce and stood. “Is it alright if I hug you?”

He nodded stiffly, but relaxed minutely when your arms wrapped around him. Damian understood why Todd softened around you. How Father smiled and showed affection like it was second nature. Why Richard laughed freely and Thomas felt comfortable in the family and Brown gossiped to you about trivial things. He understood why Cassandra sought you out on the bad days and Drake curled up beside you when he needed to feel comforted and why Pennyworth took your orders without question.

You weren’t useless or helpless. Your strength, light, and warmth was the thing keeping the family together. Damian hugged you just a little tighter. Maybe he could ask you to accompany him to the animal shelter to oversee how the donations were being allocated. And then perhaps they could go to that one vegetarian restaurant Todd had told him about.

You weren’t his mother and he would always love his mother, but you were certainly a figure in his life that he didn’t mind being around.

#batfamily x reader #batmom imagine #batfamily imagine #bruce wayne x reader #bruce wayne imagine #damian wayne

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solarrue · 11 months

Note

Hello! I want to say that I love your writing! Keep the good work hehe. Also I would like to request Diluc, Thoma, Ayato, Ayaka, Kaeya, Scaramouche and Jean (hope it's not too much) trying to cook traditional dish from their foreign S/O's country.

Sorry for my english btw, it's not my first language. Have a nice day! <3

Ooohhhh! I love thisss!! 💕💕 Keep in sending requests peopleee!! <3 (don’t be shy😉)

I hope you guys like how I wrote these!

GENSHIN HCS | COOKING A TRADITIONAL DISH FROM THEIR S/O COUNTRY

characters: diluc, thoma, ayato, ayaka, kaeya, scaramouche and jean x gn!reader

warnings: not proofread.⚠️⚠️

diluc

Diluc had always noticed the way your face lit up when you ate a dish from your country. So one day, he decided to make it for you as a surprise.

He doesn’t cook often, because he lets his maids do the work, but this time he wanted to do it for himself, so that it could be more special. He found the recipe to the meal, and it was confusing to him at first, but he got the hang of it.

When he was finished, he woke you up, and told you he had a surprise for you. When you walked down to the kitchen, you saw a familiar dish waiting on the table. When you tasted it, it was amazing. You were surprised he made it exactly as you did, especially on the first try.

After the meal, you hugged him and thanked him, in which he became really flustered. “D-don’t mention it, anything for you.”

thoma

As Thoma is the housekeeper of the Kamisato clan, he should know how to cook really well. That’s not exactly the case when it comes to foreign dishes.

He really tried to make a traditional dish from your country, but he became confused while reading the recipe. So the only person he could ask for help, was you. You explained to him step to step how he should make it, and in the end he understood it. “What would I do without you?” He said, which made your heart skip a beat

It tasted a little bit different to what you were used to, because Thoma had messed it up a little at the beginning, but later on he became a master on how to make this dish. Even making it for the Kamisato siblings in the future.

ayato

Ayato was a really busy man. Being the head of the Kamisato clan, and the Yashiro commission was not easy and he had a lot of work everyday. Except for this one day.

It was your anniversary today, and so he decided to do something special for you. He had a full day planned for the both of you, but to start of the day, for breakfast, he decided to make a traditional dish from your country.

Not gonna lie, he failed miserably, almost burning the kitchen down. He is not the best at cooking, because he always has someone to do it for him. So after he was done, and made you taste it. It was definitely not the best. You were completely honest with him, but you really appreciated the effort he made into making that.

Some other time, you cooked the dish together, and he finally made it somewhat edible. “I am glad I didn’t burn the kitchen down this time.”

ayaka

Ayaka would see that you were really overworked and stressed this one day, so she decided that she would make something for you to cheer you up, why not just make a traditional dish from your country? Just as her brother, she’s not the best cook. She has everyone doing it for her.

She tries anyway, which didn’t go so well. You smelled something burning from the kitchen, then you realized it was Ayaka making something, which made you really surprised.

She handed you a plate, and you noticed it was a familiar dish. You smiled, and took a bite, it was really salty. She saw your expression, and began to apologize. You calmed her down, and said it wasn’t a big deal.

“I just wanted to make something to cheer you up.” She said, blushing a bit. You just smiled, and told her she didn’t have to, but she obliged anyway. In the end, you two just went out to eat, because the whole house smelled burnt because of the kitchen.

kaeya

Kaeya was laying next to you in bed, wide awake already, as for you, you were still in deep sleep. He smiled, and kissed your forehead before getting up, and getting dressed.

He had the day off today, so while you were still asleep, he wanted to make you breakfast in bed. He didn’t know what to make, but an idea popped into his head suddenly. He was gonna make you a dish from your country. He has never tried to make it, but he has seen you make it dozen of times, so it might be easy.

To your surprise, he made it exactly as you did. “This is amazing! Where did you learn to cook this good?” You asked in amazement, to which he shrugged and smiled at. “It’s a secret.” He said as he winked a you.

scaramouche

Scaramouche was sometimes really shy to ask you about stuff, despite you being his s/o. So when he watched in admiration as you made a dish from your country in silence, he really wanted join, but was shy to ask.

You noticed his glances, and smiled. “You okay?” You chuckled, and turned around to look at him. “I’m fine, yes.” He looked away, and you just shrugged and continued. After some minutes, he went up to you, and wrapped his arms around your waist. “Could I…possibly help you?” He whispered in a low tone.

Your eyes lit up, and you told him what he needed to do, and to ask if he needed any assistance. This was definitely one of his favorite way to learn about you culture and food, and also spend time with you.

jean

You were perfectly aware that Jean was a perfectionist, and a hard worker. She felt that everything needed to be done perfectly, so when you needed to make a dish from your country to bring to a family gathering, she was more happy to help.

Since you had other stuff to take care of, you gave Jean a detailed recipe for the dish, so it would be perfect. Let’s say, she did not disappoint! When you returned, it was absolutely perfect, and it blew you away, how this was her first time making it.

You thanked her a thousand times, and she just smiled and kissed you cheek, “anything for you, hun”

A/N: sorry for being away for so long, my finals were stressing me out, but I passed all of them (thank god). So, I’m gonna be focusing more on writing, I can’t promise, because I have a life outside tumblr, but i will write when I have the time

Also, thank you so much for all of the support I’ve gotten! I can’t explain how much this means for me!

Goodbye, love you <3

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uplatterme · 1 year

Note

I FINISHED THE ATTENDANT!THOMA ONE FINALLY AAAA.

Should the next one be Consort!Aether, RoyalScientist!Albedo or Childe/Scara as a War Prisoner?

So, Thoma was hired as your personal attendant a couple years back when you took the throne.

At first, he was nervous and stiff, which he later admitted was due to the fact he was a bit intimidated by you at first.

Over time, seeing pretty much every side of you and going on a fair amount of adventures with him in the realm of politics, he loosened up.

Eventually he even considered himself a close friend instead of just a hired hand.

In recent times however… something else had been growing.

From admiration and pride to be serving such a person.. to a strange feeling in his stomach whenever he looked for too long.

A feeling that filled his chest and made him feel like he could burst.

He even asked the royal physician if it was some sort of condition… which ended with him being shoo’d out of the office.

It got especially bad when you teased him.

Sometimes you’d partially unbutton your shirt and loosen your tie when going over documents

Other times you’d hug him from behind to catch him off guard

And there was this one time when… well, it makes him flustered just thinking about it- but you’d ordered him to eat something off your plate “to make sure it isn’t poisoned”. He’d ended up sat next to you being fed finger foods and cakes.

He almost cried in embarrassment that night- especially when a maid walked in and saw them.

Thoma cleared his throat, his face still feeling hot just thinking about that incident. Archons, it was like you meant for that to happen with the way you looked so smug after..

“Actually.. speaking of her, it’s actually time to go wake her up..” he mumbled to himself, lifting his pocket watch up to his face.

His footsteps rang down the hall, the castle already bustling with life even at this early hour. Maids swept the floors and bookshelves, the kitchen was alive with the sound of pots and pans, and someone was practicing the violin somewhere on a balcony.

The sounds and smells of the castle at this hour were so familiar to him at this point. He hummed to the tune of the distant instrument, opening the large wooden doors to your room when-

“Good morning, your gra-“ he stopped mid-sentence… “um… y-your grace? why are you not dressed yet..?” He said, fumbling with his words. You sat on the bed, a silken robe the only thing covering you. The top part was just loose enough that your chest was in view, and the bottom part was certainly.. short.

“Mmm? Is there something wrong, dear?” You asked, sleepily. Your eyes trailed up to your attendant’s flushed face, him looking anywhere but at you. You mouth curled into a smile.

“It’s almost time for breakfast… should you not already be dressed, your majesty?” He finally looked at you, his hand coming up to cover his mouth and cheeks. He let out a sigh before turning to your closet, beginning to rummage through it for something for you to quickly put on before the day’s start.

You stand up, quietly waking up behind him. Just as he stood back up, you wrapped your arms around him, pushing yourself against him. He gasped “Your grace- what are you doing??” He whisper-yelled at you.

“Thoma” you whispered into his ear. He froze, not a single muscle moving. Well, except for the one moving his blood around, considering how hot his face flat by now. “Can you do something for me, dear?”

He swallowed thickly, “Yes, your majesty.. what do you need?”. Your hands came to grip his waist, at which he jumped slightly. “Could you go ahead and sit on the bed for me?” your breath was hot on his ear.

“O-oh… of course..” he replied, walking back and sitting once you released him. You follow, standing in front of him. You leaned down, one hand coming to his hips as you begin to suck on his neck.

“Wh- your grace what- mm.. what’re you d-doing” his whole body tensed as you began to push him down onto the bed, taking your sweet time with marking him up. “Something I’ve been thinking about for a long time now..”

“The reason I’ve been rejecting so many suitors.. is because none of them can compare..” your hand made its way under his shirt and up his chest- his breathing becoming more erratic as you do. “How can I think of some far-off suitor when the perfect prince has been served to me on a silver platter..?”

He moaned your name at both the implied praise, and that your hand had begun toying with his nipple. “F-fuck.. please~” he whined, grabbing at your other hand. A chuckle escaped your mouth as you swiftly brought a knee to his crotch. Using the hand on his hip, you pushed him into it, moving your knee to match the movements.

His hand snapped up to his mouth to try to muffle his surprised moans at this action. You scoff, stopping all movement. “wh-why’d you stop..?” He whined, moving his hips to try to get some friction.

“You shouldn’t hide those cute little noises from me..” you say, grabbing his hands and tying them with a nearby scarf for good measure. He squirmed under you, “Is that really n-necessary?”. “Mhm”

He purses his lips and looks away. His eyes widened when his shirt was pulled over his head, resting on his arms. Your knee came back to its rightful place between his legs, and he shamelessly began grinding himself on it. He gasped and whimpered when your mouth closed over his nipple, sucking and licking it. Your hands toyed with him, manipulating his body effortlessly.

Thoma just couldn’t help himself- the whole situation was too hot for him to handle. He began whining about being close, his eyes tearing up and his hips loosing control.

Yet again, however, you stopped. Before he could begin whining, your hands had already pulled down his pants and underwear. He let out a squeak, looking away from his hard-on in embarrassment. “So excited just for me, huh dove~?” you teased, your hands already touching his tip.

“Mmh- haaah~~ I- I can’t! Please, don’t stop,” “I don’t plan to, little dove”

Your hands enveloped him, jerking him off at a quick pace that had him squirming and begging. He wasn’t even sure what anymore, whines of “please!” And versions of your name or title slipping from his drooling, open mouth.

His eyes rolled back as ropes of cum shot from his cock, spilling onto his stomach as tears rolled down his cheeks.

His head fell to the side, panting. “Your grace.. I…” he caught his breath for a moment, looking into your eyes with adoration. “Thank you..”

“Oh, Thoma..” you tut, “I’m not even close to being done with you..”

A maid with a tray walked up to the two giant wooden doors, the pastries on her tray still warm from the oven. She knocked before pushing open the doors.

“Your breakfast, your eminence..” she bowed her head, then looked at you. You gestured to your desk, and she swiftly set the tray down.

“Thank you, Reylin,” you say, waving her out the door.

Her eyes widened as she noticed the blonde man laying in your bed, drool still running out of his mouth, and dark marks littering his neck and chest.

She quickly made her way out, blushing madly at the sight.

The consorts would not be happy about this…

-🕊️ anon

oh my god. i’m blushing.

he’s so *screams*

fuck being an attendant, he’ll be your lifetime partner now 😠

#also just a note #id really appreciate it if the thirsts are used with they/them pronouns #JSHFBSJ #because i don’t really use she/her…#BTW I LOVED THIS THIRST DW #🕊 you’re the best <3 #dear: 🕊 anon #sub genshin impact #sub genshin #thirsts for blake

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tempobrucera · 1 year

Text

Lipstick Kisses

Pairing: Thomas x Reader Wordcount: 5k Summary: Thomas develops an obsession with lipstick after someone tells him he shouldn’t wear it. Any kind of lipstick. Warning(s): Smut, some shibari, some bunny <3, mentioned past humiliation, pegging, some d/s dynamics, nipple clamps, sub Thomas

Add yourself to my taglist. / Masterlist

.#####.

"Are you okay?" Thomas asks, hand on your cheek.

You nod, but Thomas looks at you. Nothing is okay at the moment, everything is way too much and everything at once. There's no need to lie to him. There's also no chance to really do that, he always sees right through you, and right now, you can see in his face that he doesn't believe you. Thomas' gaze is soft, and you shake your head.

"It's okay." He wraps his arms around you, kisses your forehead. He's soft, not the joker he was mere seconds before when he danced around your kitchen just in his underwear, open bottle of wine in one of his hands, pulling faces and singing off tune on purpose loudly. "It's going to get better again, I believe in you."

He kisses your cheeks as well, then the tip of your nose before he kisses your lips. You're hanging onto him like he's saving you from drowning. Some of the dark bordeaux lipstick you were wearing all day, sticks to his lips and then leaves a faint mark when you kiss his cheek. You laugh, before you try to wipe it away.

"Sorry."

Thomas just laughs and kisses you again. Deeper this time, for longer, more lipstick left behind on his lips. Enough to see the contrast against his skin. Again he kisses your forehead, leaves a lipstick mark of his own. In his eyes you can see a glimmer of wonder and surprise.

"Oh, it sticks."

"Of course it sticks," you laugh again, "You know that, silly boy. Or how do you think it got onto your lips?"

"Because I kissed you."

A pleased sigh escapes him when you kiss his throat, leaving a dark lipstick stain behind. He kisses you again, more bordeaux lipstick sticking to his lips.

"It looks so good on you."

"Really?" He looks at you surprised.

"Yes, really." You get your phone and open the camera app. "Dark lipstick is made for you."

He looks at himself in the reflection, tilts his head from side to side: "You really think so?"

It's not like he looks uncomfortable, he just looks unsure. You leave him alone with your phone and wonder if you will find a selfie or two later. He's still looking at himself when you come back with the lipstick in hand.

"Let me show you."

Thomas pouts at you after you carefully applied the lipstick to his lips.

"Brou de Noix," he reads from the bottom of the lipstick tube - butchering the French a little bit. "You really think this looks good on me?"

"Thom," you take a photo of him and give your phone to him, "Why do you think you don't? Who told you this?"

He sighs but this time he sounds frustrated: "One of our latest make-up artists, she said I'm too pale for anything too adventurous."

"They are talking shit, you look incredible."

There's a red stain on his teeth when he bites his lips, you reach out for his cheek and get the colour of with your thumb. Thomas pulls a face at you.

"It sticks, I thought we established that much." You smile at him. "That means it also sticks to your teeth."

You peck his lips, only for a few seconds but he grins at you and holds you in place, close to him.

"And now you're kissing it off of me, because I look so irresistible?"

"Yes, I'll completely kiss it off you."

He smiles when you kiss the corner of his lips.

.#####.

It happens more often, it’s a slow progress of Thomas getting more comfortable with that pop of colour on his lips. First it’s colours you almost can’t see on his lips, inconspicuous, a little pink, a bit of nude here and there. Sometimes you only notice when he kisses your cheek, looks at you for a moment too long and you will have to rub some lipstick off your face.

Gradually he’s getting adventurous. One of your dark red lipsticks is missing first, you’re looking for it everywhere one night when you’re going out. Only weeks later it turns up again - you find it in Thomas’ suitcase buried under some shirts.

Then there’s a wonderful plum colour you have had your eyes set on for quite some time but you never dared to pay more than a certain amount for any makeup and this certainly was over your budget. Until one day Thomas gives you a small box with the plum coloured lipstick inside. It looks marvellous on you, your friends tell you so, Thomas tells you so and you can see it yourself. But when you catch Thomas in the bathroom one evening, you can just think stunning and stare at him. He tries to hide the lipstick in the sink behind him whilst rubbing it off his lips.

“Please don’t,” you say. “It looks amazing on you, Thomas.”

“You think so?”

“Yes,” you smile at him, “I already said that last time. You look stupendous, too good to be real.”

.#####.

The next time, he isn’t hiding it. One evening he just sits down next to you on the couch, colour on his lips that looks like he just drank a glass of red wine but didn’t lick his lips afterwards.

“So beautiful.”

He smiles at you before he puts his head in your lap and you can play with his hair, twirl strands of his blond hair around your fingers, comb them slowly through his hair. You see how he bites his red lips and how he closes his eyes. He presses his lips to the skin on your thigh where the fabric of your pyjama shorts end.

“You have a favourite yet?”

You can feel how he shakes his head: “No, I only tried about four but I really like this one.”

Thomas looks up at you confused when you get up but when you come back with your makeup bag that holds all your lipsticks and makeup wipes his eyes grow wider.

“Then let's try some more,” you smile at him. He sits up which gives you the opportunity to straddle and sit on top of him. A tiny whimper escaping the back of his throat, always so sensitive to your every touch. “Pick whichever you like.”

His hands shake slightly when he picks up your bag full of treasures and opens it. The little sigh leaving his lips doesn’t slip your attention. Overtaken by something almost like greed he rummages through it.

“There are so many shades,” he looks at you, “Oh, dark red. Brick red ... plum. Oh, this has a funny name, Tea and Cookies. Pink, more red. Oh, wait, what the fuck, is this blue!?”

“Yes, that’s blue. I have some green as well.” Thomas raises his eyebrow at you and you laugh. “Halloween is a thing that happens.”

“I want to try the green.”

You look for the label that says Serpentina. A dark shimmery green you know will look lovely on Thomas’ lips. Stark contrast to his skin and the light blush around his cheeks and his nose. He squirms under you when you do his lips and his eyelids are fluttering when you take a photo on your phone to show him.

“I look … good?” He looks at you questioningly.

“Insanely good.”

He kisses your throat. It doesn’t leave a mark on you, doesn’t stick, and he looks at you confused.

“It’s smudge proof,” he pouts at you - looking at you like you betrayed him out of a reward he was craving, “And kissproof.”

“That’s not fair,” he says but doesn’t elaborate when you take a make-up wipe to get the lipstick off.

The next one is a berry shade that you also deem gorgeous on Thomas. Even he marvels over it when he sees himself on your phone camera. He’s rewarded with more satisfaction than before when he presses his lips to your throat again, the lipstick sticking to your skin. It does stick but not enough for his taste.

There’s the darkest shade of plum next, it’s matte. It’s so dark that he laughs when you show him: “I’m too much of a loaf of toast for this one but I love how it feels and this … matte thing?”

“I think, I have the perfect one for you,” you dig into your bag again until you find the brick red matte lipstick Thomas looked at earlier, “I wanted to test if this one is smudge proof.”

It isn’t, you know. It’s the reason why you bought it in the first place - for it to smudge. Stain Thomas’ sweaty sticky skin. To leave marks on your own skin, colour transferring from Thomas’ lips to yours. After you’re done with the lipstick, Thomas bites his lips, the red sticking to his teeth. Carefully you wipe it off his teeth with your thumb. Instead of going for your throat, he pulls up your pyjama shirt. He leaves a lipstick mark around your nipple and looks at it in awe.

“I want to tie you up,” you whisper against the shell of his ear, “And leave all those marks over you, so I can see every kiss I left on you when I’m done.”

Thomas puts his hands in front of him, looks at you expectantly: “Please.”

“Here?” you smile at him. “Kitchen table, bed or floor?”

You can see how he tries to find an answer, slightly whimpers when you stroke your fingers over his hip bone.

“Bed.”

You take your make-up bag and then take his hand to lead him to the bedroom. It doesn’t take much to push him into the sheets, his fingers getting tangled in them.

“Cuffs or rope, bunny?”

“R-rope.” You can see how he swallows heavily. “Please.”

The berry colour of the restraints in your hands reminds you of the colour Thomas had on his lips earlier but you’re digging deeper, getting the mint green rope. The rope lands next to Thomas on the bed, he plays with it, while you look for the scarlet red lipstick.

“You’re allowed to get naked, Thomas.”

He only blinks at you and you put the lipstick aside. It isn’t much to get him out of, you pull the old band shirt over his head when he raises his arms and then you pull down his joggers, there’s no underwear to get rid off and he whimpers into your ear quietly.

“Ready?”

“Yes.”

“Get on your tummy.”

He almost stumbles over himself, almost gets caught in the sheets, before he turns around. You laugh, but it’s lovingly, not condescending.

“Are you excited?” You take the rope from his hand.

He nods into the pillow, his cheeks almost as scarlet as your lipstick pick. A quiet sigh falls from his lips when you take one of his hands and tie the rope around his wrist twice, there’s enough room for two fingers you can wiggle under the rope. Then you cross the rope over the ends you just worked on, reach under the bind to make a loop and pull the rope through it, Thomas is still happily sighing. You create another loop and pull again, before you take the end and tie him to the bed.

“This okay?”

You can see how he pulls on the ropes, how he wiggles, how he gets a couple of fingers of his other hand under the rope.

“Feels good.”

He looks beautiful when you’re done with his other wrist and he lays in front of you - tied.

“Ankles as well?”

He shakes his head on the pillow. Thomas still tests the pull and give of his restraints when you apply the lipstick, you just look at him for a while until he whines and strains his neck uncomfortably to look at you.

You press the first kiss to his right ankle, then the left, you leave kisses all over his calves, his thighs - leaving an ocean of right behind. He moans when you leave kisses on both of his asscheeks, squirms under you, shamelessly pushes his ass closer to you.

“Hey, hey,” you pull away from him. “Only kisses.”

“Not even a finger?”

“No, not even one,” you smile, “And it’s pretty red already, believe me, so no slaps either.”

It’s not that you don’t want to give it to him at all but you aren’t quite sure where you left the lube last time and you wouldn’t leave him alone to go and look for it. The other problem, you don’t really see as a problem, but would leave Thomas too embarrassed would be that he would cum. Doesn’t matter if one finger, or two, or three. He would fuck himself back on them and cum, faster than he would like, embarrasslingy fast and he might not be happy to continue after. You don’t want to end this so soon.

“I won’t …,” he starts and whines before continuing, “cum. I promise.”

“Good boys don’t lie.” You wet one of your fingers with spit and let it catch on his hole, he only tries to muffle his noises. “That wouldn’t even take you two minutes.”

You withdraw your finger and start kissing him again, the small of his back, his sides, some moles and freckles. Up his lower back. You do notice that he’s biting the pillow, rolling his hips into the mattress but you only stop him when he's seriously starting to rut into it.

“What are you doing?” You hold his hips still.

“I’m hard,” he mumbles when you gently pull him off the pillow by his hair, lipstick bleeding into the white pillow case. An ear shattering mewl comes from him when you reach around him but before he has the chance to buck up into your hand, you pull away.

“Yes, my bunny is hard,” you whisper into his ear, “But I want you to hold your hips still. No getting off, okay?”

He would - get off. Rubbing himself against the mattress, against you, furniture, your pillow. You can still remember the one time he was dry humping the pillow next to you. You didn’t ask him to do it, Thomas so horny and desperate to get off that he didn’t realise what he was doing, the only thing that was important was that you didn’t stop him. There wasn’t a no coming from you. The wet spot in his underwear gave him away before the humiliation reached his eyes and spit on his chin before he looked away ashamed. You moan thinking about it, you want him to do it again but you have to store the idea away for another day.

You still hold his hips when you kiss his shoulders. Then his neck, you stroke sweaty strands of his blond hair out of the way. You kiss the shells of his ears softly, Thomas shivering under you. For what feels like the fifth time already you reapply your lipstick again.

“Turn over.”

He’s careful to turn, slow, the ropes crossing and you can see how his dick is straining against his stomach, pre cum on the tip.

This time you start kissing on the bridge of his foot, then the ankle, repeat your movements on the other side. Before kissing up his calves, his thighs, again. You kiss into his prominent pubic hair, pushing his dick a little out of the way to kiss his belly, his hips, up his happy trail, around his navel before you lick into it for only a second. You leave red marks on his ribs, around his sensitive nipples - on them. On his collarbones. You kiss his arms, his tattoos. His armpits, for a little bit longer, when you lick there he moans and pulls against the rope. You move on to kiss his tied wrists, his hands, his fingers.

There’s a sniff. And then another. Some heavy breathing.

“Thom?”

“Hmmm?” He looks at you teary eyed.

“You are crying.” You put your hands on his wrists to untie him quickly if he wants to, if he needs to, stop. “Are you okay?”

“‘S good …,” he sounds drowsy and his eyes flutter but he still cries, “good tears, promise. More?”

You press the last kisses to his fingers and then move to his throat. You kiss up to his chin, you kiss the stubble, his cheeks, his forehead under his sweat drenched fringe, you kiss some tears away. You leave a dozen kisses on his nose before you stop.

“You forgot something,” he says sheepishly.

“True.”

And then you kiss him on the lips, his tongue lazily pushing into your mouth. He breathes heavily when you pull away.

“You said everything,” he whines and he pulls on his restraints even more than before.

It possibly feels like hours for Thomas when it only takes a few minutes to kiss your way down again. You take your time to kiss his scrotum, a bit too long for Thomas it seems, because he cums. His leg is kicking into the mattress, and then there’s only a low whimper. You can feel how he’s in a fight with the ropes around his wrists while you kiss and lick up his length and then you place one last kiss on the tip, some cum dribbling out of him and a pitiful whimper coming from the back of Thomas’ throat. You move up quickly to untie his wrists, to pull him close, sweat and lipstick covering him. He just sinks into your embrace.

“Are you okay?”

He nods at your shoulder.

“How are you feeling?”

“Still floaty,” he looks at you - cuddles even closer to you, makes himself a home right where your heart beats, “but … I feel loved.”

“Good,” you kiss the top of his head, “Let's get you some water, and then I’ll clean you up.”

Thomas makes a grumpy noise at that.

“I’m gonna wash your hair and massage your shoulders, I promise. And after we can cuddle.”

“Chocolate?” Thomas asks.

“Yes, sure.” It’s some habit he developed, you already have forgotten how it started. But Thomas who usually isn’t too fused about chocolate would ask for it after subbing. After you put him in a fluffy bathrobe, he would slowly nibble on his chocolate while being hugged. “Of course you’re getting your chocolate.”

“And next time,” he smiles, “I can kiss you.”

.#####.

You shouldn’t be shocked, or surprised, but somehow you are both. It’s the fact that you didn’t expect it, when you should have seen it coming.

There’s red letters on your bathroom mirror. Lipstick sticking to the glass.

Love you!

There’s a heart around it, a lipstick mark next to it.

You can’t even be mad that he used your expensive one.

.#####.

How are there so many shades of lipstick?

That’s what Thomas writes to you one evening.

How come you kept the liquid matte ones from me?

You laugh.

The next evening Vic texts you, looking for her lipstick, she thinks it might be with you. You have a look in the bathroom before you realise that the most likely suspect is right under her nose.

Ask Thom. And tell him, he has to give it back, he can’t just take what isn’t his.

He’s out but I found it in one of his pockets. Since when does he steal lipstick?

Slight obsession.

You can imagine how Thomas’ cheeks heat up when Vic will tease him with it later.

Can you show me the colour?

Vic sends a photo of a lipstick tub with red roses on it. Another one, where you can see the colour, a raspberry red - a little pinkish. Another one that shows you the name. It’s matte and liquid.

.#####.

“I got something for you.”

“Shouldn’t I bring presents from travelling, or something?”

“You will like it,” you smile at him. He will, you’re sure. But there might be a catch he isn’t expecting when you look at his excited face.

His face slightly drops when you give him the lipstick tub. Red roses on white background. The Dolce & Gabbana sign on it. The Dolcissimo name. He swallows.

“You know what this is?”

He nods.

You wait.

“Vic’s … lipstick.”

“No, this is your lipstick. I bought it, it’s yours, you can wear it.” He nods again. “And what do you have to say?”

“Little bunnies don’t take what isn’t theirs?”

“Exactly,” you say softly, “Come here.”

You apply the lipstick to his lips, he looks beautiful. Pretty.

“I’m sorry.”

“Did you apologise to Vic?”

“I did.” Thomas blushes deeply.

“Good, and now bunny can make it up to me.”

He nods.

“You can get yourself ready,” there’s excitement sparking in his eyes, “And then you can get my harness, choose a size and take one more toy. Then you can get me, I’ll be in the kitchen cooking for later.”

At some point it made click in your head, that the biggest punishment for him is deciding on it himself and some other small thing. Rack his pretty head if he can and wants to take what he chooses for himself. It takes him longer than you anticipate. When he comes into the kitchen, he’s naked. Except for his collar, his cheeks are reddened. He isn’t saying a peep.

“Did you choose?”

He nods.

You eye his collar, you didn’t say anything about it, you aren’t displeased, you almost let it slide completely. You put a finger under it: “Next time you ask, okay?”

“Yes,” he gets out quickly, “Yes, I will. Thank you for letting me wear it.”

Thomas put everything on the end of the bed. He kneels next to it on the floor. You have a closer look. There’s your harness, lube, a condom, a dildo that’s slightly bigger than what you thought he would pick. But the biggest surprise are the nipple clamps he got out. With every passing second he blushes more. You pick the clamps up and let them dangle in front of his face.

“Are you sure about them?”

“Yes,” he looks at the floor.

“Babe, you hate them.” He really does, his nipples are sensitive, he always yelps and looks at you as if in agony. “You can choose something else, you can choose something you like.”

You’re surprised he didn’t go with his usual choice of rope. Or his second choice of a cock ring - there even is a vibrating one that he actually loves somewhere in the nightstand.

“Can we try?” His voice is small. “Please.”

“Sure,” you get your hand under his chin, “but if this is too much we will change to a ring, okay?”

“Yes,” he smiles, “I would like that.”

You get your harness to step into it. Thomas stretches his hand out before he stops himself.

“Am I allowed to help?”

“Of course.”

He readjusts a strap that twisted, then he adjusts the toy to the o-ring of your strap-on harness. He stays on the floor until you tell him to get on the bed.

“Did you finger yourself?”

He looks at you out of wide eyes. Surprised. It just seems to hit him that this was included in getting yourself ready.

“No,” he closes his eyes. “Bunny is still good?”

“Yes, you’re good.” You take his hand and squirt some lube onto his fingers. “You can do it now.”

You kiss his thighs, you know that he slid one finger into himself when you hear him moan, and then another one a few minutes later when you hear him mewl. You put some lube on your own fingers, one of them slips easily into Thomas, joining two of his own which he scissors slightly.

“You think that’s enough?”

“Ye-,” a moan rips through his throat, “Yes, I’m ready, please.”

“Good, keep your fingers there a little longer.” He sighs when you pull your finger out. You get the clamps and put them on his nipples slowly and carefully. He whimpers and moans and whines. “Should we take them off?”

You tug on the chain gently. There’s a little silent cry tumbling from Thomas’ lips.

“Let’s take them off, okay.”

But Thomas shakes his head.

“No?”

“No,” he whines, “I want them, please. I want this, it feels nice … but no tugging harder than this.”

“Okay,” you shush him, “Not harder than this. And when it is too much we will still take them off.”

He watches you when you rub the lube onto the strap-on. Obediently he spreads his legs and he bites his lips when you stretch him out slowly. After a couple of inches you stop, only continuing when Thomas whimpers for more. You go slow on him, and his whimpers turn into moans when you slide in with the whole length. Thomas’ breath goes heavily and he bites his lips when you stop moving, just keeping him full.

“You’re ruining your lipstick.”

He stops biting, but when you pull out completely, he bites his lip again to muffle his frustrated voice.

“I want you on top.”

You change places. He is over you, and you sitting against the back of the bed, waiting for him. To lower himself down, to get the dildo inside again. You’re waiting for him, he lets it slide back in slowly. He’s betraying his own impatience with how slow he’s going. Before the impatience takes over and he starts to bounce up and down. Hands around your neck. He hisses when you still his hips. It’s the other small thing he hates so much.

“No bouncing.”

“But …”

“Don’t move.”

For a minute you both stay still. He’s soft, and whimpering. And sososo desperate. You can see it on his face, it takes him a lot not to move.

“That’s it, just like that,” you press a kiss to his lips - then to his nose, “such a good boy for holding still.”

“Just wanna bounce.”

You laugh a little: “I know, you’re such a bouncy bunny. But you have to hold out a bit longer.”

He grits his teeth together, everything to just stop himself from moving. He’s impatient, he wants to move. There are whines and growls coming from the back of his throat. You know it’s all he wants to do, just bounce up and down. Have the tip bump against his prostate.

“You’re pretty when you’re blushing.”

His face and his throat get even redder, the teasing getting to him. He’s trying so hard not to move, to bounce, to wiggle, to grind against you.

“You’re doing great.”

He loves the praise, his eyes rolling back. The blush isn’t going down, it only gets more, travelling down his chest. The look of his eyes is pleadingly, and he grabs your hand, squeezing it to think about anything else than moving.

“Now you can move.”

There’s a breath he probably doesn’t know he was holding. He moves, his hips moving up and down. He’s a bouncing mess on top of you, lipstick getting smudged. He’s panting. And he’s so close. His thighs are quivering, his face lit up in pleasure. You tug at the chain from the nipple clamps just a tiny bit, he whines, but he still moves his hips.

“Stop.”

He makes the craziest sound you have ever heard. Alluring. Absolutely pathetic little noise. Still, he stops moving.

“Not fair,” slips out of his mouth before he can think about it. You tug on the chain again. You know that he can’t think straight anymore.

You give him a short break: “Move.”

He moves, this time quicker, more uncoordinated. You give him a couple of minutes, not enough for him.

“Stop.”

“No …”

He whines, he bounces for a couple more seconds which is why you slap his thigh lightly and then he stops. He flares his nose. You know it’s all so much, too much.

After the fourth round, you praise him, he isn’t moving. But he’s begging, drooling, the spit running down his chin.

“Please, pl-please, just, bounce, please.”

Everything coming out of his mouth is a broken cry. His hair is everywhere, his bangs clinging to his forehead, sweat on his chest.

“I’m …,” he shivers, “Please, I’m so desperate. Bunny needs …”

He doesn’t finish. He sloppily starts sucking on your fingers when you hold them out for him. His red lips look beautiful around your fingers.

“You were so good today,” you smile at him, “You can move.”

Thomas starts moving and this time you don’t stop him. His thighs are quivering harder than before. His breath hitching, his movements uncoordinated. You raise your hips a little bit to meet his movements. He cums with a loud moan when he bounces down and you take one of the nipple clamps off just to have the little teeth snap again. Thomas only slowly calms down.

“Ouch,” he whimpers.

You take them off carefully, Thomas still mumbling.

“You are fantastic, we will put cream on your poor nipples,” you whisper into his ear, “Such a good boy, I love you.”

He doesn’t make any move to get off you, wanting the feeling for a bit longer. You’re grateful that you took a glass of water and some chocolate from the kitchen earlier.

“Love you too.”

.#####.

Thomas sends a photo of a lipstick to you just before a show.

Vic’s?

You can see the pout in front of your inner eye.

Ethan got it from the mua. He said, I’m eyeing it, so I should wear it

It’s a lovely shade of merlot.

Do you want to wear it?

Yes

He sends you a selfie. Thomas in front of the mirror. Lipstick on his lips. He’s beautiful, and he doesn’t rub it off. Only when the stage lights are out again.

.#####.

END.

.#####.

Add yourself to my taglist. / Masterlist

Taglist: @writingmaneskin, @oro-e-diamanti, @iamtashaquinn, @teenyweenynightghost, @findaqueenwithoutaking, @foreveryking-thatdied, @findoutwhoyougonnacall, @maneskinbrainrot, @little-moonbeam-666, @ethaneskin, @maneskin-dimensione, @l0standn0tf0und, @butkutee, @gr8rainbowpunk, @maneslut, @maneskintifoso, @weareoddlydrawn, @hiraetheral, @imjustanerdwholikestoread, @cuzimitaliano, @hopelessromantic727, @dating-villain, @maneskinsimp, @till-you-scream-and-cry, @wonderlandishell, @h1ppieth1ngs, @paralianeyes, @livvyysstuff, @que–sera–sera, @roisinmillar123, @romanoffswoman, @lovelyy-moonlight, @crwnnjules, @roisinlove123, @whitewolf-writes, @lizzylynch1, @fugg1977, @maneaterdoll, @imposter-27

#maneskin fanfiction #måneskin #maneskin smut #maneskin x reader #thomas raggi #ethan torchio #maneskin #maneskin fanfic #maneskin imagine #thomas raggi x reader #thomas raggi x y/n #maneskin x you #thomas raggi x you

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cryoculus · 1 year

Text

— guard dog 02 ⟢

pairing: thoma x assassin!reader

summary: in which thoma proves to be one of the most insufferable captors in teyvat. how someone like him sees himself in someone like you is a complete mystery.

word count: 3.5k words

notable characters: thoma, kamisato ayaka, kamisato ayato

tags: found family, enemies to lovers, slow burn, angst, eventual smut

warnings: nightmares

notes: so, i've decided to cross-post these two per day instead of one per day :')

header art cr: pncgnsn on twt

masterlist

“R-Retainer?”

You didn’t miss the uncharacteristic stutter of Ayaka’s voice when she’d said the word. You couldn’t blame her.

To your side, Thoma nodded too enthusiastically to be genuine. “You heard right, milady. I discussed it with her earlier this morning, and Miss Kira has agreed to be your temporary retainer. Only until the Kujou clan is out of her hair, of course.”

“It would be an honor to serve you, Lady Kamisato,” you managed through gritted teeth that could somehow pass for a smile. Thoma still nudged you with his elbow as a warning, though. “Even if it’s only for the meantime, I owe it to your family for nursing my injuries. I’d like to repay your kindness however I can.”

Ayaka seemed at a loss for words, blinking at you with those silver-blue eyes of hers like it was the first time someone showed her a hint of gratitude. You almost felt bad for being a fraud. Almost.

“I… I don’t know what to say,” she sighed, staring at the cup of tea in her hands before meeting your gaze again. “Your duty lies with the war between the Sangonomiya resistance and the shogunate. You mustn’t waste your time tending to the whims of someone like me.”

“Oh, but I will,” you insisted, just as the bastard chief retainer instructed you to do. “Besides, with how my, ah, infiltration turned out, the resistance might’ve listed me off as M.I.A. No one’s going to be searching for me for a good while, milady.”

After that little…conversation you had with Thoma, you reverted back to your false persona as Kira of the resistance come morning. Though you had absolutely no moral obligation to stand by the terms of your agreement, you decided to play along for now.

Naturally, your voice of reason rebelled against the notion. Letting yourself be manipulated into the situation you’re in without a fight? As if.

But…you weren’t about to call for back-up like you should, either.

Kujou Sara’s feather never left your person. Once Thoma had gotten you a fresh change of clothes, you made sure to slip it inside the intricate folds of your garbs—never to be seen by anyone else.

When the chief retainer confiscated your powdered crystal marrow, you didn’t resist. Surrendering your murder weapon would take off the suspicion that you were carrying something else, and Thoma even met your cooperation with a promise of ‘a lighter sentence’. Whatever that meant.

Not that it mattered, though. Because even if you kept Masahito’s contingency plan around, your pride as a mercenary prevented you from using it.

You were beyond repulsed as you recalled how quickly you bit the bullet the night Thoma had cornered you in the kitchen. Years of relying on no one but yourself, flushed down the drain—all because of some crafty blond foreigner! You rated the humbling experience a 0 out of 10.

And then there was his master plan to turn you into Kamisato Ayaka’s friend.

That part was the most confusing. Was Ayaka so sheltered that Thoma had to wrangle in a fugitive like you just so you could be friends with her?

“I suppose there’s no harm in accepting,” Ayaka murmured, cheeks red with embarrassment. “D-Do tell me if there’s anything I can do to assist. I can even have someone contact the resistance for you—”

“There’s no need for that.” Thankfully, Thoma had the foresight to beat you to it. “Communicating with Sangonomiya might endanger the clan’s relationship with the shogunate. We can shelter Miss Kira for the meantime, but we mustn’t act publicly, milady. Else, it will implicate the entirety of the Yashiro Commission.”

You hated to be in agreement with the man who strung you around like a puppet, but… “He’s right. You’ve done way more than I can ever hope to repay, Lady Kamisato. The last thing I want is for you to be under open fire.”

The princess nodded glumly, and her expression tied your stomach into knots.

Lying through your teeth used to be something you did without a morsel of shame. But having to feed Ayaka all this blatant dishonesty on a silver platter…

You didn’t want to dwell on it.

Once your quick audience in the pavilion had been adjourned, you pulled Thoma to the side.

“This isn’t permanent, right?” you hissed quietly. “I’m not going to be stuck here forever, right?”

A smirk curled on his face. “Hey, the Kamisato Estate would make a better prison than the police station in Inazuma City. I have all the evidence needed to hand you over to the authorities, but thankfully, I’m kind enough to give you another chance.”

You almost slipped up when he mentioned the police station. Right. You never told Thoma who hired you to kill Ayaka in the first place, nor did he press on the matter. It would do you no favors if you told him that no, the police won’t arrest me since I’m actually in cahoots with the Tenryou Commission!

So, with bitter resentment coiling in your gut, you let him go. You’ll figure something out and bust out of here in one week, tops. Maybe.

“Oh, by the way.”

You turned around with a disgruntled look. “What?”

Thoma had that no-good smile plastered on his face when you met his gaze again. “Now that you’re officially a Kamisato retainer, do you have an idea about what responsibilities come with that title?”

Oh, no. You were not liking the sound of that.

Swallowing thickly, you replied, “No. Why?”

The horns on his headband might as well have grown in size because this man was an absolute devil. Thoma’s mischievous grin scaled tenfold and you prayed to the Electro Archon herself to just strike you down with lightning from where you stood.

This was going to be a long week.

“Have you ever been inside the palace on Watatsumi Island?”

Ayaka posed the question on your third day as her temporary retainer. You looked at her with a hint of curiosity and barely concealed exhaustion once she’d uttered the words. Though you’re willing to play along with this charade for as long as you had to, your escapades from the last few days practically drained the life out of you.

You never really knew what a retainer’s purpose was. You’d always just assumed they were scoundrels who rode on the coattails of their charge—basking in their status just to flaunt the privilege to others. Perhaps you were right about that when it came to the other noble houses in Inazuma. In the Yashiro Commission, however…

“Hey,” the princess called out with concern, as she made poured you a cup of tea. “Thoma has been overexerting you, hasn’t he? I know these chores are part of a retainer’s work, but he can be a bit…mean sometimes.”

You blinked at Ayaka slowly, gaze drifting from the princess and onto the teacup she’d offered. While the amber surface glimmered softly in the lantern lights, the mere mention of Thoma’s name was enough to snap you back into your senses.

That scheming little…!

He’d subjected you into countless hours of manual labor, despite the fact that you were someone who’s supposed to be recovering. That seemed to go over Thoma’s pretty blond head and, by extension, your own because the man has a knack for driving you up a wall.

“Miss Kira~ Ayame needs some help airing out the futons and doing the laundry. The other attendants are running errands, so you’re the only one who can do this.”

“The grass around the estate seems like it needs some leveling. You’re up for the job, aren’t you?”

“Ah, Miss Kira. Just in time! Lord Ayato is very particular about sorting his book collection. We have boxes of new arrivals at the entrance. Can you help take them up to the second floor?”

“Do you happen to know your way around the kitchen, Miss Kira?”

Not only were you swamped with your newfound responsibilities as a maid retainer, but you’re also expected to carry out your agreement with Thoma, still. In the daytime, you were but a humble refugee paying back the Kamisato clan’s kindness, and by twilight you were Ayaka’s so-called friend.

If you hadn’t known any better, you might’ve assumed that she was behind your captivity in the first place. That Ayaka had been the one to order Thoma to blackmail you into becoming a servant of the house.

But horrible people like that were easy to pick out. Takes one to know one, they said. And now, with Ayaka staring at you like a mother hen, you knew that she didn’t have a single scheming bone in her body.

Kujou Sara’s feather felt heavier in the folds of your yukata. Suddenly, you weren’t so sure if it’ll take you just a week to do your job and break out of this place.

“This is nothing,” you insisted, seating yourself by the pavilion steps to appease the princess. “You were asking about Her Excellency’s palace, right?”

Once Ayaka had gone to bed, and you’re left to tidy up the tea set you’d used with her, Thoma swooped in like a lone wolf in the night.

“You’re a pretty good liar, you know,” he commented, pouring himself a glass of water. “If I wasn’t as perceptive as I am, you would’ve had me completely fooled.”

You glared at him. “Don’t use my talents to stroke your own ego, asshole.”

“Hey, not everyone can fabricate a tale about Sangonomiya Palace. Looks like someone’s been reading up on their childhood storybooks,” he complimented with a smile that made you roll your eyes.

“That reminds me,” Thoma mused as he completely ignored your prior aggression. “Where are you from, exactly? I’ve heard of the wandering mercenary who always manages to stay out of the shogunate’s radar. I honestly thought you were an urban myth until you decided to personally grace me with your presence.”

You scoffed. “You’re not the one I’m after.”

“Hmm… That may be true, but I’m the one who’s keeping you in check right now, aren’t I?”

There was that look again—the one that made your blood pressure rise to unimaginable heights. Thoma wasn’t exactly someone you’d describe as sleazy.

As cunning as he was, the blond still had an air of maturity to him that you normally wouldn’t associate with crafty fixers. Maybe all that noble honor bullshit from the Kamisatos gradually rubbed off on him.

That didn’t mean he was above being a conniving bastard, though.

“So, will you humor me with a quick background check or no?”

“I’m not an idiot,” you hissed. “If you want to get dirt on me, you’re going to have to try somewhere else, pretty boy.”

The words slipped before you could even think about them, and the effect was almost immediate. A sordid smirk replaced his typically carefree smile, and you’ve never wanted to get swallowed up by the ground more than you did now.

“Oh? First it was ‘guard dog’, and now ‘pretty boy’? I certainly don’t mind the development, though,” Thoma simpered, tipping his head back while he drank his water.

You hated how it took you a moment to peel your gaze away from the way his throat bobbed as he swallowed.

Once you managed to put away the ceramic tea set, Thoma was still hovering around the kitchen. Like a ghost that just wouldn’t leave you alone.

Neither of you said anything. You merely held his stoic, emerald gaze in the silence. Now that you thought about it, you’d never really taken a good look at the guy. He pissed you off beyond belief. Why should you take the time to stare at him?

But here, in the muted light of the kitchen lanterns, you’re granted a glimpse of how Thoma’s hair was still so vibrant in the near-darkness. How his eyes looked like they belonged to someone born miles away from the shores of Inazuma. But when your gaze slowly drifted to the pendant sitting beneath the jut of his collarbones—

“Ah, I best be off,” Thoma spoke up—making that blip of curiosity fade back into nothingness. “See you in the morning, Miss Kira.”

Before you could wrench out a response, the chief retainer had already left.

“You want me to spar with you?” Your tone was laced with disbelief, and Ayaka hid her face behind her fan as she laughed.

“Why, yes,” she admitted, legs swinging ever-so slightly by the elevated platform. “It would be an honor to spar with someone as learned with the sword as you.”

You frowned. “I’m a nobody in the ranks of the resistance. I don’t even have a Vision. Sparring with me doesn’t exactly warrant much honor, milady.”

“Your stories don’t seem to convey the same thing, Miss Kira,” Ayaka interjected. “And if you’re the nobody you claim to be, why would Lady Sangonomiya entrust you with such an important espionage mission?”

Because I lied to your face. Have been for days now, you wanted to tell her but didn’t, for obvious reasons. “If I was as important as you assumed, then they would have already rescued me without a fuss,” you sighed—diligently trimming the shrubs in the garden the way old lady Furuta taught you the other day.

“Now, now. You’re milady’s friend, aren’t you? Humor her a little.”

You shot Thoma an irritated look, which you quickly masked with a smile. This guy just had such impeccable timing as always, huh?

“Master Thoma,” you addressed him nasally. “Forgive my insolence but I just don’t think I’m fit to be Kamisato Ayaka’s—”

He effectively shut you up by plucking the shears in your grasp, exchanging it for a very real and very sharp Kageuchi sword. You gaped at him like a koi out of the fish pond.

“Well?” he probed. “You’re not about to keep milady waiting, I suppose?”

You weren’t sure if you’d just gotten rusty after days without practice or if Ayaka was just that good. It’s been a while since you’d held a sword, and you knew perfectly well how your technique could dwindle if you didn’t constantly hone it into habit.

But you had the inkling that, even if you’d been in tip top shape, the princess would have no trouble making you yield, still.

The pebbles on your backside dug into the fabric of your yukata as Ayaka pointed the edge of her blade against your chest. Heart pounding loudly in your ears, you sighed—letting your head fall back into the sand as you let the borrowed sword clatter from your grip.

“You’re mean,” you told her as she helped you back up. “You knew I was a walk in the park, didn’t you?”

Ayaka blushed. “Ah, I apologize if it seemed that way. It’s not everyday that someone agrees to spar with me…”

“Ehh?” You purposely drawled your tone as you gave her chief retainer—who was watching you get your ass beat on the sidelines—the stink eye. “Master Thoma doesn’t even indulge you? How cruel of him.”

“It’s quite the opposite, actually,” Thoma replied. “We’ve exchanged blows so much that she’s already grown bored of our sparring sessions.”

“T-Thoma!”

“Don’t say it’s not true, milady. Hm… What’s that?”

Turning your gaze to where Thoma pointed his gloved hand, you practically felt the blood in your veins run cold. You darted back to the sand garden you’d ruined with your fall—plucking a lone black feather off the ground before Ayaka or Thoma could get a closer look.

“Ah, it’s a feather I found while sweeping the entrance the other day,” you explained hastily as you slipped it back inside your clothes. “Where I’m from, feathers are said to bring good luck is all…”

Ayaka seemed quite interested. “You mean, Watatsumi Island?”

“No, I’m actually from Yashiori.”

Thoma arched an eyebrow at your admission, and you had to conceal how mortified you were at your own slip-up. The part about feathers bringing good luck was already a senseless bluff on its own. Why didn’t your brain just continue the string of lies?

Relax, relax, you thought to yourself. Thoma couldn’t possibly know that what you said was actually true, right?

By now, you should have known better.

It’s always raining on Yashiori Island.

The never-ending storm has been there for as long as you could remember. You didn’t even know what the sun looked like anymore.

It was for that reason that people from the neighboring islands rarely set foot in this place. After all, what person in their right mind would go out of their way to visit the Orobashi’s graveyard? But as young as you were, you didn’t believe in all the tall tales.

It wasn’t the rain that kept people from visiting Yashiori. It was something else. Evil and intangible—a curse that turned your blood into ichor and ground your mind to dust.

One by one, the people from Higi Village succumbed to the malignant illness. When the village chief buried your father’s corpse, you’d asked Mother if there was any hope left, but she only shook her head in resignation.

The traveling doctors had played an important part in keeping the villagers alive, though. They said that lavender melon soup should be able to cure the Tatarigami’s corruption, and you believed them. Because the people around you started believing that this wasn’t the end of the line. There was still hope.

But one night, blood dribbled from Mother’s nose as she tucked you into bed, and the next thing you knew, she’d hemorrhaged all over the sheets.

Doctor Naoko, one of the traveling doctors, took you in after that—telling you that you should live on for your parents’ sake. It’s not as if you had much of a choice in the matter, though.

He lived in a house that was too close to the Great Serpent’s skeleton for comfort. But you knew orphans didn’t have the right to complain. Instead, you helped them treat the villagers with their miracle soup—brewing lavender melons all day to serve to everyone that needed it.

Your solace, however, lasted for no longer than two months.

“Care is also a form of remedy,” Doctor Naoko told you—blood leaking from his eyes as he handed you a blade with trembling hands. The metal felt unforgivingly cold on your fingertips, and your limbs shook from where you stood.

You had your suspicions that he’d been corrupted by the curse, but to go as far as asking you to end his life…?

“You care, don’t you, little one?”

But Doctor Naoko never died at your hand. Never had to feel a blade pierce through his flesh. No, he ended up dying of blood loss and organ failure before you could even move an inch.

You’ve never even held a sword even once before the entire ordeal.

But shortly after…it became your lifeline.

The mansion was deathly quiet.

You made sure to silence your footsteps as you emerged from the kitchen with a glass of water, not wanting to rouse any of the other retainers in the first floor.

It’s funny how you suddenly started caring about the well-being of these people, but after that little nightmare, you actually wanted to focus on everything else but yourself.

“I don’t know what you’re trying to accomplish with this, but you best tread carefully, Thoma. She’s still a ruthless killer no matter how much you try to tame her.”

Upon hearing the tones of conversation at the end of the hall, you paused. It’s been about two weeks since your (temporary) inauguration into the Yashiro Commission, and you’ve never once seen Kamisato Ayato’s face in person.

He’s been quite the elusive one—always preferring to eat his meals alone as he locked himself in his study. And if Ayato wasn’t wasting away in his lonesome, he spent his time outside the mansion. But as absent as he often was, you did, however, know what the Commissioner’s voice sounded like.

“So were the rest of our retainers,” you heard Thoma sigh. “Isn’t it the Kamisato clan’s personal preference to hire both ex-convicts and people with criminal records alike? What’s with the sudden change of heart, milord?”

…Ex-convicts? People with criminal records?

Suddenly, the sound of rustling fabric. You could almost picture Ayato holding Thoma by the collar.

“Our real retainers have long been cleared of their charges, and have expressed a genuine development in character,” he spoke slowly. “That woman, however… She’s the first assassin that got past the gates, and the first one you’ve willingly let get so close to my sister.”

“Aha, I take it you’re worried, then?” Thoma bantered as if he wasn’t talking to his boss. “I’m a good judge of character. If I believe that someone was truly capable of killing your sister, I never would have let them live at all.”

Somehow, hearing that made your skin prickle with goosebumps. There’s something about the contrast between his playful tone and the gravity of his words that made you realize he was dead serious.

“And what makes you think she won’t try to finish the job?”

Thick silence permeated the air for so long, you wondered if they quietly left and adjourned the conversation somewhere else.

But just before you could poke your head outside the hall, you heard Thoma speak once more—so softly, you barely caught the words.

“Well…” He cleared his throat, as if…he’s flustered. But how could someone brimming with confidence like Thoma be—

“She reminds me a little bit of…myself.”

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