oh to be a prima ballerina rehearsing for to pianist sundayās beautiful melodies, not a single hitch in the way his fingers expertly glide across the keys, not even as he watches you with soft, lidded eyes and a feathery smile, gaze trailing after your graceful movements while you twirl and leap around the empty studio ā”
itās just the two of you now, and the sun has long since set, the full floor-to-ceiling windows revealing the twinkling silhouette of the city, skyscrapers peering in as you dance for them.
but even the skyscrapers are beginning to sleep, their dazzle dimming as the night wears on, the usually busy streets below rendered still and silent, sporadically blanketed by the hush of a lone car drifting by.
it must be quite late.
ājust one last time, please?ā you look over at him, hopeful, brow teetering on the edge of a wince, as if anticipating a reprimand. āi justāi wanna make sure itās perfect.ā
ānot a problem,ā sunday says with a single duck of his head, dutiful and polite. anything for you, darling.
and then the music starts up again, smooth and harmonious, and your body begins to move, whirling across the hardwood, and that wispy little grin returns to his face, sunset irises tracing your every step.
together, his music and your body become a singular entity, wrapped up in each other and moving as one, breathing as one, being as one, a mellifluous sight.
his music transforms you into something ethereal, something not of this world, and sunday would wear his fingers down to the bone several times over just to keep watching.
to invoke perjury (and to love no one else) ā sunday
summary. an old telltale whisper of a confession leaves sunday defenceless, and all the more paranoid of your loyalty to him.
notes. omg this is so epic i say as i hold up this work that nobody asked for. i finally finished the penacony tb quest everybody clap it up for me. my sunday obsession is so so bad somebody save me from the trenches.
warnings. mdni. implied explicit content, dark themes, manipulation, sunday is (unsurprisingly) very controlling, sunday is also tremendously paranoid of everything, yandere themes, he makes you cry, sunday uses that weird lying curse on you, but worry not he does love you. i think. let me know if ive missed anything!
āYou are breaking my heart.ā
You glanced up from the model of the city, growing tired of picking at the corner of one of the buildings. A nervous habit, if you will. When Sunday noticed the damage later, heād scold you for it.
For now, his eyes were elsewhere. He, too, was staring down at the miniature pinball machine, spinning it with a gloved finger.
You fidgeted, uncertain. āWhat?ā
āYouāre lying to me,ā Sunday accused. His tone was soft.
Your hands pressed to the sides of the table. āI havenāt lied to you.ā
āNot recently, no,ā he agreed. He agreed, and you almost sprang from your seat. āBut you have. And you still are.ā
To that, you gripped the edge of the table tighter. Uncertainty wrought heavy in your bones like lead.
It suddenly felt cold. As if heād slid ice along your spine. A chill wracked through you. You realised the feeling was his gaze.
He hadnāt taken his eyes off you.
But he was still slowly twisting the pinball machine around and around. He then sighed.
And then he leaned back and traced a finger along the edge of the table, not at all mindful of the small animated figurines occupying the city.
He gave one of their heads a small push, and the small figureās body sank into the floor.
You took it as a warning.
āDo you remember the night we met?ā
Of course you did.
It was a swirl of colour and muted hushed whispers now, but you could recall taking his hand, promising him the world, and kissing along his fingers to the swell of his wrist.
You nodded meekly.
Sunday hummed, clearly lost in thought. āI never forgot what you said to me.ā Oh, you knew that look. That distant, faraway look. Like heās trapping himself in his own head again. He was good at that. Acting, pretending. Putting on a show. āIād never felt the same again.ā
He was still tracing the edge of the table.
There was a small grin on his face.
Such a pleasant expression, paired with that a gorgeous light-hearted tone. His voice sounded like a lullaby echoing in the back of your mind.
His halo was glowing in the light.
āYou said to me youād be my everything. You offered a piece of your very own soul to me.ā He gloved finger flitted from the polished wood, and then stopped short of your hand resting on the table. āYou have such a lovely heart.ā
The muscle raced in your chest.
You werenāt sure if it was out of flattery or fear. You werenāt able to tell the difference anymore.
āSuch a shame you continue to spit poison at me. I used to love talking to you.ā His gloved finger followed the curvature of your knuckles. āYouāve changed. Youāre so different from when I met you.ā
Your hands curled into fists as he traced the bone-white colour as you squeezed. Your nails dug into your palms.
Heād changed, too. Heās different too. Heās more watchful now. He barely makes time for himself anymore. Heās always either working or watching you like a hawk.
Itās unnerving. The unsettling brush of his lashes against your skin, and that unbreaking stare.
āI donāt know what youāre talking about,ā was all you said. āI havenāt changed at all.ā
Sunday hummed. āAre you sure?ā
āVery.ā You found the courage to glance up at him. That same unbreaking stare. When you met his gaze, he smiled. āI still care about you.ā
āBut, you donāt.ā There was a light hearted ring in his voice.
You stopped. āWhat?ā
āYou donāt love me anymore.ā
And there it was.
He was paranoid. He always had been, since the day you shedded a glove from his hand to kiss the skin wrapped around bone white knuckles. Heād been so busy pressing his nails into his palm, so preoccupied in what you were doing, why you were doing this, what you gained from it.
Heās paranoid now. Heās never stopped. Heās always been anxious. Heās always been overthinking your every move like youāre an opponent in a game of chess; always on his toes, always watching, either with his own eyes that more often than not, glared daggers into you, or through the nightingales that swarmed the mansion.
You were shaking. You tried to stop yourself.
He noticed. āYouāre upset.ā
āOf course, Iām upset.ā Your nails dug into the underside of the table. You felt them strain as your jaw clenched.
āIs it wrong to think youāre dishonest?ā
āYes,ā you answered. āYes, itās wrong. Youāre wrong.ā
āPerhaps I am, then, for falling in love with a liar.ā His fingers chased up your arm slowly. āI always valued honesty above all. How rich.ā
āBut Iāmāā You didnāt even know how to defend yourself.
Instead, you fell completely silent, face burning in humiliation.
The scent of him was intoxicating. Orange blossoms and sandalwood. You had memorised the scents of his favourite fragrances, the shampoo he used, down to his toothpaste. You knew all of it. The way he brushed his hair, the temperature of the water he preferred for his baths, to the chronological order of steps on how he got ready in the morning.
It was all order; a set of stagnant unchanging steps. Like he was following a recipe to its very word.
He was particular.
And he hated change.
He took your silence as an invitation to pry further. āYou were so enchanting that night.ā He was telling the truth. You could read it on his expressionāand his expression. That same expression he held on that night you offered him your heart to take. āAnd I know now, that you are most enchanting when you lie.ā
āWhatāsāā You interlocked your fingers. His own were tracing the bone of your shoulder now. āWhat have I done? Whyāre youāā
āYou, of all people, must understand my uncertainty,ā he spoke. He sounded as if you were supposed to know the answer.
Maybe there was no answer at all. No spark to his flame. Heās just doing all of this, because he can. Because heās paranoid, and heās hiding his churning stomach and the anxiety that fills his throat with this stage play heās put on.
āYou willingly took in a perfect home, much different from where you came from.ā He gestured to the room around him. Pillars that intricately curled into the ceiling, floor polished, the scaled model of Penacony tended to and dusted, and the walls featuring thousands of commissioned pieces from artists all over the galaxy. āNo sorrows, no disorder, no dishonesty. Certainly not here.
His eyes shift to you again. āAnd certainly not now.ā
You shrank down into your seat.
āAnd, under the light of the Harmonyāā He raises his hands to gesture to the ceiling, as if THEYāRE watching over him. āāAll wickedness is revealed. That is precisely why you're so radiant in the sunlight.ā
What the fuck is he talking about?
He must have noticed your expression. You must have appeared distressed. Fidgeting nervously, your blood running cold beneath your skin.
Perhaps your apprehension, the clear anxiousness drawn over your face, egged him further.
He did not dwell on it. Instead, he simply narrowed his eyes. āIt is as I suspected.ā When your eyebrows raised in surprise, he continued, āyouāve been lying.ā
āYou donāt trust me anymore?ā You frantically wiped a stray tear that had fallen. You hoped he didnāt notice the waver in your tone.
You stared at the floor. His eyes were burning into your skull.
Your brows knitted together.
A bell tolled nearby.
You donāt recall any sort of church close by.
āI cannot excuse, nor house, nor bed, a liar. It is beyond THEIR natural order. Liars have no place in an assimilated, perfect world.ā
You looked elsewhere. You picked nervously at the hem of your shirt, suddenly feeling like you were drowning in hot water.
Your nose filled and clogged with a horrible earthy scent much unlike his shampoo. This was different, real and raw, like there was somebody else in the room.
When you looked around, there was nobody else.
Just the two of you.
āStand up,ā he ordered softly.
You did so, hesitantly, still shaking.
You must have looked pathetic.
Sunday offered you his hand.
Desperate, you took it, and kissed his knuckles.
He let out a faint laugh. āThat will not work. Not this time, Iām afraid.ā He looked up towards the ceiling for a brief moment, before he closed his eyes. āO Triple-Faced Soul, let fire brand flesh and bone with the mark of honestyāā
Something was wrong, and his face was changing.
For a moment, you saw tracks like golden water flow down his cheeks.
His halo was glowing, but there was something else behind his head. A clouded and muted swirl of colours, mismatched and ever changing.
You tried to pull your hand from his grip, but there was a weight pressed to your limbs.
āāAnd ensure that every vow is etched in the fervour of undeniable truth.ā
āWhatāre youāā He let go of your hand and you stumbled. The bell toll was only just louder by a margin, and there was now a searing heat in your head. āWhatāre you doing?!ā
Your hands desperately rested on his shoulders, trying to keep yourself upright.
You tried again to wrench yourself from his touch. It was sickening how gentle he was being.
Slowly, he guided you back to the love seat, tutting and scolding you as you fought in his hold. How could somebody so horrible be so gentle?
You felt the urge to throw up all over his clothes. Sweat beaded down your neck and pooled at your collarbone like a necklace.
āWhat did you do to me?ā You were panicking. āWhat have you done?ā You pressed the pads of your fingers to your temples to try and soothe the burning. āYou cursed me?ā
āIāve blessed you,ā he whispered. āThis way, you will be rectified.ā
Something was whispering to you. Almost inaudible, indiscernible, like the banging of a death knell in your ears.
What is it? What is that?
You looked to him for an answer, but words caught heavy on your tongue like lead.
āAll you have to do is tell the truth.ā
You shook your head. āIām not speaking to you like this,ā you tried. Your voice came out strained.
āYou donāt have a choice,ā he snapped. āYou are not in control.ā
āYouāll hurt me for the sake of your precious pride?ā Your hands coiled into fists at your sides. Thank the Lords heād seated you, for you were sure you wouldāve fallen over by now. Your feet had since gone numb.
The whispering was right in your ear. When you turned your head to confront the noise, there was nothing there.
āIt will not hurt if you tell the truth,ā Sunday explained gently. āI hope that doesnāt come as a challenge to you.ā
Get out of my head get out of my head get out of my headā
āIām not answering anything you ask,ā you forced out through gritted teeth.
Sunday only let out a breathy, exasperated sigh. āThen donāt. Weāll see what happens to you.ā
You said nothing.
Instead, you tried to stand up to leave. Screw this curse heās put on your head because heās retreated into his own insecurities. He wasnāt winning this time.
You were so sick of this paranoia.
When you stood, a dizziness hit you like a wave. You desperately reached for anything, and your hands found his. He did not guide you back down into the seat, but his gloved hands remained encased in yours.
Such a perfect, warm fit.
Sunday offered you a gentle, yet peculiar smile.
āQuestion: have you ever lied to me?ā
You didnāt answer.
Your flesh felt as though it was set alight. As if the halovian had personally poured gasoline over you and held a match to the tip of your nose and watched you burn alive.
The whispering was loud. The voices was indiscernible. You couldnāt place a finger to its source, nor a face, nor a name. Three voices, all repeating the same thing. You could tell from its tone, its pitch modulation, and yet you couldnāt understand what was being spoken.
It didnāt sound like any language you knew.
āAnswer the question, angel.ā
Hot tears bubbled over your lashes.
āYes.ā You fought to keep the word lodged in the back of your throat, but when you forced it out, the lava on your tongue cooled significantly. The whispers grew softer.
He noticed the look of relief cross over your face. āSee?ā A gloved hand came down to gently touch the crown of your head. āJust answer truthfully, and it will all be okay.ā
Then, the white material of his gloves came forward to swipe gently at the tears below your eyes. Salt soaked the soft cotton.
Your hand reached up shakily to hold onto his wrist.
āDid you lie to me the night we met?ā
The swirls of colour around his halo were returning.
Your thumb traced the ring on his finger. Gold, with a blue gem on its interior.
Instead of answering, you tried to press your lips to his.
Sunday stopped you, though it took restraint. He held your face still, lips just barely brushing against your own. He tasted salt. Salt and sweet lies, and Aeons above was it addicting.
He sighed. āDonāt tempt me.ā He watched you flinch, and rang a simple reminder, āanswer.ā
āYes,ā you said.
As he expected.
You were so beautiful like this. Raw, and honest.
His heart squeezed with disgust. āDid you lie when you said you loved me?ā
Frantically, you shook your head. āNo.ā
He smiled.
āDid you lie when you said youād die for me?ā He tilted his head.
Your lips pressed together. Your fingers curled tight in the loose curls of his hair. Your nails brushed softly against his feathers.
Your chest heaved when he finally sat beside you on the couch. His skin was so warm pressed against yours, and the contact made you feel dizzy.
āYes,ā you responded.
He accepted it. His finger softly petted your cheek.
Oh, you were crying.
You felt so pathetic and weak, and bubbled words caught in your throat like fish on a hook. You felt trapped, and the colours behind his head were growing more vibrant, brighter, accompanying and drowning out that awful halo.
Heās horrible. Heās so horrible.
You wanted to say it, you wanted to tell him that you needed him to leave. You needed him gone.
He beat you to it. āDo you hate me?ā
You heaved a sob. āNo.ā And you didnāt. You didnāt hate him, despite his obsessive control and unjustified possessiveness. His hubris, and his inability to see past his own paranoia and fear. āPlease stop.ā
You pressed your lips to the small, poniard-shaped jewel on his chest.
Your sign of devotion did not deter him, though, he was sure you would always have some sort of effect on him.
āIt shouldnāt hurt if you tell the truth,ā Sunday reminded you. There was a teasing lilt to his voice.
āI donāt hate you,ā you repeated, this time as firmly as you couldāalbeit your voice shook with fervour. āI never hated you.ā
āIām relieved.ā His hand petted your hair. āSo, so relieved.ā
You buried your face into his shoulder and sobbed.
You prayed it was over. You prayed and prayed for the voices to dissipate from your mind. You tried to will them away, to squeeze your eyes shut and beg for the whispers to fade into the background of white noise and static.
The kaleidoscope of colours crept below your eyelids.
Sunday held you securely, and as warm as he was, and as firm and yet so gently his arms sat snugly against you, you felt so cold. So cold and alone and so afraid.
He could fix that.
He hadnāt said a word for a moment.
The burning feeling of your skin returned, and you let out another drawn out noise of distress.
He shushed you. āOne final question.ā
You shook your head.
Your hands were trembling, fingers weakly pressing to your temples to rid the pounding that made your stomach churn. Your vision was swamped in swirls and patterns of colours you couldnāt put a name to.
His face, too, warped into something evil.
This wasnāt the man whose knuckles youād kissed, whose wings gently fluttered against your skin, whoād plucked a small feather from them and handed it to you as a symbol of his devotion.
His halo dimmed for a moment.
You felt his lips brush against your ear and the tickle of a feather.
[ gekko x gn!reader ] gekko has a nightmare. wingman goes to find the person that he knows gekko finds comfort in ā you. wc: 1.6k
a/n: this is a continuation of this gekko fic, but this can be read as a stand alone.
the red lines that made up the time on your alarm clock read 3:28 am. it took another few moments before you realized what exactly had woken you up; there was someone tapping at the door. you groaned to signal that you were awake, still too half-asleep to form words but not asleep enough to be able to ignore it.
feeling your way along the wall, your hands finally find the door. you open it, but when you peer outside there is no one to be found. that is until you hear a warbling sound at your feet. through your sleep-blurred vision, you look down to find wingman.
he was shifting his weight from one of his stubby little legs to the other, and was now emitting a low whine. was heā¦ worried? anxious? something was wrong. there had to be. why else would he be at your door at three in the morning, if not because something was wrong?
āhey, buddy,ā you spoke softly. āwhatās wrong?ā
he gave you another high-pitched noise before beginning to scramble down the hallway. as expected, he stopped in front of gekkoās opened bedroom door. you hesitated for a moment, wondering if you should step in. it wasnāt your room, and while gekko and you were friends, it wasnāt as if he had given you the right to walk into his room at any given moment. even then, shouldnāt you knock first?
biting back that thought, you knew that wingman wouldnāt have retrieved you from your room in the dead of night for nothing. you followed him through the opened doorway and attempted to follow him through the dark room.
eventually, you heard the tapping of his claws on the ground and then the rustling of sheets; presumably, wingman was trying and failing to jump up onto the bed until he finally succeeded.
that theory was confirmed a few seconds later, as he finally turned on the lamp situated on the nightstand. he gargled in annoyance, closed his eyes, and shook in a way akin to a wet dog. with his eyes now adjusted to the light, he turned around and clambered his way over to sit on gekkoās chest.
the man in question was sound asleep. he was wearing a black t-shirt and gray sweatpants, dark green blanket tangled around one leg and covering half of his chest. his breaths were steady and shallow, every few breaths emitting the remnants of a snore. nothing seemed to be wrong.
at the end of the bed, dizzy seemed to have stolen a portion of the blanket for herself and was asleep in the nest sheād made of it.
āmateo?ā you called his name gently at first.
he didnāt move. not that you would expect he would, being that he was very clearly fast asleep. wingman whirred at you.
with a deep breath, you stepped forward and put part of your weight onto the bed. you reached out and lightly shook him, calling his name once more. nothing. you shook a little harder, spoke a little louder. still nothing. alright, maybe you were getting a little worried now. how heavy did he sleep?
you leaned more on the bed, peering over his sleeping body. your weight supported by one hand, the other found his jaw. with your thumb on one side of his face and the rest of your fingers on the other, you turned his face gently to study his features. he seemed fine enough apart from the sleep lines carved into the left side of his face and the slight pinch of his brows. you called his name once again.
this time, he shot up in bed with a gasp. in doing so, his forehead collided with yours and sent you backwards. an attempt to catch yourself on the heel of your palms failed miserably as he moved his leg from beneath you. the little amount of support you had from your hands was swept from underneath you and you fell onto your back. your back and head were met with the warm and fuzzy sensation of his blankets.
although you were vaguely aware that his room smelled of him, you were now fully aware of the scent of lavender and sage that lingered to the blanket previously wrapped around him.
āy- wings? what theā¦ā gekko groaned and rubbed at his eyes. it was another few moments before he registered that you were there. āy/n? what are you doing here?ā
āthatās a good question.ā you answered. you attempted to sit up once again, finally succeeding this time. āwingman woke me up. acted like something was wrong, so i followed him here.ā
it was now that you noticed how off gekko looked. his eyes were wide and watchful, especially considering he had been fast asleep a few moments ago. his chest rose quickly and fell heavily, tanned fingers whitening with the grip they had on his bedsheets. wingman warbled absently as he scampered atop gekkoās lap and plopped down almost comically. he stared up at you expectantly, although you werenāt quite sure what he was trying to communicate.
gekko made a noise somewhere between a huff and a laugh. āi was having a nightmare. i guess wings knewā¦ that, or i accidentally kicked him off the bed in the middle of it again.ā the little green creature whirred at the word āagain,ā but made no further complaints.
āah. i wonder why he came and got me though? other rooms are closer than mine. neonās for one, or even reynaās. i assumed if he was looking for someone to comfort you, heād go to her first. not that i wouldnāt comfort you! i justāā
āi understand.ā he said, usual smile returning to his face. āiām sorry about him, dunno what got into him. you should get some sleep though. itās too early for this, little man.ā he looked to wingman at the last sentence, who seemingly ignored him.
āwell, goodnight anywayā¦ and sorry for the scare. and goodnight to you too, wingman.ā you said. the creature made a noise somewhat like a purr in response, followed by an indignant noise as he realized you were leaving.
your hand had barely touched the doorknob when you heard a thump, followed by the scampering of claws across the floor. wingman pawed desperately at your leg.
kneeling down, you asked him what was wrong. he shifted his weight from stubby leg to stubby leg, before turning around to look at gekko. the creature gargled, which made noticeable heat rise in gekkoās face.
āno! i mean, yes, but no.ā he responded. again, wingman made a noise, and he spoke back. āitās not like thatā¦ā
āgrbghr.ā
āok, it is like that. but i canāt justā thatās not a thing, alright, buddy?ā
āhmrg?ā
āitās justā¦ a weird thing for humans to do. iām sorry.ā
ārgh.ā
you never thought youād see so much annoyance and attitude come from the small, blob-like creature that was wingman. finally, gekko sighed. he threw his head back and took a deep breath.
āheā¦ wants you to stay.ā
it felt rude to laugh. but you couldnāt help it. against your best attempts to stifle it, a small laugh escaped you. as strange a request it was, you didnāt mind it. you were far too lost in your sleepy state of mind to care much about it, but you also knew how persistent gekkoās friends could be.
despite the darkening of his cheeks, gekko moved over in his bed. in the back of your mind, you thought about moving back to your own room once the two of them were asleep.
however, as you settled in beside him, you began to drift off. the low trill of dizzy somewhat-snoring and the warmth radiating off of thrash didnāt help either.
the next thing you remember was the blinding light of whatever the hell had been shining into the room at this hour. you realized soon after that the shining was inside of the room, coming from the overhead light. brimstone stood in the doorway, jett and phoenix behind him snickering amongst themselves.
āwhat are you two up to?ā brimstone asked. you couldnāt quite tell the tone of his voice ā he sounded so stern and almost angry, as if he was your dad who had caught you in a more compromising position. yet, there was a playful lilt hidden in his voice.
āwingman happened.ā you huffed, still too half-asleep to care to explain.
whether or not he was actually upset you didnāt know, but he reminded you that breakfast would be ready soon and to come to the kitchen once you were ready. you nodded, still rubbing the sleep from your eyes.
the door clicked closed. as the laughing and teasing jokes made by phoenix and jett disappeared down the hallway, you finally decided to get up.
you now realized the position that gekko was in. he was a stomach sleeper, but was laying half on top of you. one leg was thrown across yours, his arm wrapped around you, and his face tucked into the crook of your neck.
āhey,ā you called, voice soft. āitās time to get up.ā
he didnāt answer, but wingman warbled and scampered across the bed to snuggle into the space between your bodies. an attempt to move out from under the man failed. he hummed softly, mutteredsomething that sounded like āa little longerā and pulled you closer.
I just found your blog and I am EXTREMELY IN LOVE with how you write Claude. Thank you so much ššš
If you take request, I'd love to see a jealous Claude of some sort. Or Claude having a crush on you and he wants to be very tactical about it but fails because for once he also stumbles over his words.
~š»š»š»
Hello Sunflower anon! I promise I hadn't forgotten your ask, I just didn't want to respond until I had something to show for it. Now, here it is! Hope you enjoy! :)
Also available on Ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/52063906
Out of the corner of his eye, Claude found himself watching you.
The Leicester Alliance might not have been as...enthusiastic in their celebrations as the kind of feasts that went down in Almyra, but they still knew how to host a party when the situation called for it. The buffet table groaned with a banquet of food that would have been unthinkable just a year or so ago and everyone was dressed in their best outfits, determined to finally enjoy some splendour after fighting their way through some of the bleakest days in living memory.
You were working the room, the goldenrod gown you were wearing rustling across the polished marble floors. He wondered if you had picked out that colour for any particular reason ā was it simply because it looked nice on you, or was it some kind of message? A code, if you will.
āA womanās outfit isnāt just for practicalities, Claude!ā He heard Hildaās voice chiming in his head, something sheād told him once in the old days at the Academy, when heād once asked why she bothered to wear perfume and earrings to a mock battle. āWhen you pick out your clothing, youāre making a statement about who you are! And not just the girls ā look around you sometime if you donāt believe me!ā
Heād been sceptical of this claim initially, but after that conversation, Claude had found himself paying closer attention to how his fellow Golden Deer and other students wore their uniforms and had been both surprised and intrigued to see that Hilda had been right. It was in the little things, like Hildaās skirt being as short as she could possibly get away with without incurring the wrath of Seteth, while Marianne made sure her uniform covered as much as herself as possible, like she was using the fabric to hide in. Then you had Sylvain with his sleeves rolled up and his hair messy, like heād just rolled out of bed and couldnāt be bothered to button up the cuffs or front of his jacket. Then you had Lorenz and that ridiculous rose he always wore pinned to his lapelā¦
Speaking of Lorenz and his questionable choice in accessories, Claude spied the man himself across the roomā¦and there you were, laughing at something he was saying.
An unfamiliar knot of irritation tightened in Claudeās chest, which was ridiculousā¦Lorenz was your old classmate, after all, so why wouldnāt you be catching up with him? There was plenty to catch up on, after all, especially now that the wore was officially over and Fodlan could breath a sigh of reliefā¦
Yet he still didnāt like the way Lorenz was staring at you, like heād discovered a rare new species of flower or bird. No doubt you looked even more lovely close up, but Claude wondered if you remembered what Lorenz used to be like around female students at Garreg Mach, to the point that Teach herself had to step in. As the sun poured into the room, catching on the jewellery you were wearing around your neck and in your ears, Claude couldnāt help but wonder what you had been thinking when you chose them, if each item was a tool in your arsenal to be deployed at the key momentā¦
āStare, much?ā
Claude jolted and turned to see Hilda, who was unsurprisingly in a resplendent pink gown that was clinging lovingly to her curves ā if she was trying to convey a message with her outfit, then āLook at me!ā seemed to be the end result.
āHilda!ā Claude greeted her, shooting her an easygoing smile that did not quite reach his eyes. āI see that youāre already enjoying the festivities.ā
āOh, thereās plenty to enjoy around here,ā Hilda said airily. āBut I have to say, youāre not looking as happy as the hero of the hour should be. Are you wishing youād stayed home in Almyra?ā
It was still so strange to hear the other half of him spoken aloud so casually, when heād been hiding it so painstakingly for five years. Yet it came with an undeniable surge of relief.
āMy home is here and Almyra.ā Claude replied diplomatically. āAnyway, you think Iād pass up an opportunity to see everyone all together again?ā
āHmm, thatās true.ā Hilda nodded, sipping from her glass of champagne. āThis is a prime time to start forging diplomatic relations, isnāt it? Looks like those two over there are already making inroads.ā
Hilda tilted her head, pink hair slipping off her shoulder, an amused little smile playing about her lips, like she knew something Claude didnāt. Sheād always been able to see through him, and vice versa.
So no doubt Hilda had noticed the way that, no matter who Claude was talking to, his eyes kept wandering back to you, tracking you all about the ballroom as though he was worried that the moment he wasnāt making sure you were still there, you might just disappear.
āI thought the war taught you that sometimes you canāt just stand back and watch before you make a move.ā Hilda remarked.
āIt did.ā Claude replied evenly, his green eyes growing half-lidded as Lorenz put his hand on your waist.
āThen go and talk to her! Itās not cute to stand around pouting at your age, you know.ā
āHa! Youāre one to talk ā youāll be pouting to get your way until youāre an old lady.ā Claude said, imagining an eighty-year-old Hilda in pigtails. āAnd I know.ā
āGood, because itās so exhausting trying to play matchmaker.ā Hilda said, with an affected hair toss, before she spotted someone across the room and gave them a dainty little wave, her fingers fluttering.
āOh, thereās Caspar! I promised him a dance!ā she lilted, before swanning away, the scent of her perfume wafting behind her ā Claude caught a whiff of anemones.
āBet thatās not all you promised.ā He murmured under his breath.
Nevertheless, Claude heeded her advice, because as spacy as she might have liked to seem, Hilda was a startlingly perceptive woman under her ditzy attitude. He strode across the room, boots clicking on the polished floors, surging ahead before he could start doing what he always did. Running through various scenarios in his head like he was figuring out his next move in chess, making contingency plans, scheming. It was his fall-back from when he was a scrawny young boy, hiding in the shadows from those who sought to harm him that he couldnāt possibly retaliate against physically. Old habits died hard, despite everything.
āLorenz! I see your fashion sense has improved since our school days! Well, somewhat.ā Claude said in a cheery voice as he approached the two of you. āRemember how people used to ask if youād tried to cut your hair with an axe?ā
āMay I remind you, Claude, that you wore the same uniform as me back then?ā Lorenz sighed, but it lacked the genuine irritation it once did.
āI see you still like yellow, though.ā You said to Claude, turning your head to smile at him, though that smile was teetering on being a smirk.
Claudeās mouth went dry.
āSo do you.ā He replied. He didnāt mean to say that; it just popped out before he could stop himself. It was unlike Claude to be so concise with his wording, he had always tended to err on the side of verbosity, yetā¦
Your smile widened and heat spread across your cheeks, and his own mouth curved in a smirk.
āYes, well, we were just about to dance-ā Lorenz said haughtily, seeming not to notice your reaction to Claudeās comment, and the latter gave a wince of faux-sympathy.
āOoh, sorry, Duke of Gloucester, but she already promised the next one to me. Did she not say? Ah, for shame, my lady!ā
āOh, right, yeah,ā you said, before quickly turning your head to Lorenz. āApologies, do excuse me. But you know, if youāre looking for a dance partner, why not ask Marianne? Sheās been standing over there by herself a while, it would probably be nice for her to see a face she recognises.ā
āAh, yes, what a good idea!ā Lorenz said, his face brightening at the suggestion, turning to look across the ballroom. āI had to speak with her about Margrave Edmundās propositionā¦ā
He wandered off, still muttering under his breath, though it was obvious neither you nor Claude cared whatsoever what he was talking about. Instead, Claude offered a hand with a slightly mocking edge to it, unable to resist bucking against convention.
āSo you really did mean to dance.ā You remarked, falling into step with him almost without thinking about it.
Youād been instructed how to dance for formal events like this by your parents when you were younger and as much of an irritating chore as theyād felt at the time, it was like second nature now.
āWhat else could I have meant?ā Claude replied, lifting one hand to twirl you around. āI could have challenged you to a duel, I suppose, but neither of us seem dressed for the occasion.ā
āWell, for a second there, I thought you were just going to start grunting and throw me over your shoulder.ā You teased, as he pulled you in again. āThat was quite the glare you were giving Lorenz Hellman Gloucester.ā
āDo you want to be thrown over my shoulder?ā Claude asked, tilting his head. āOr would that put a dampener on all your schmoozing?ā
āForging important political alliances, you mean.ā You corrected Claude with a smirk. āGoodness, Claude. If I didnāt know any better, Iād say you were jealous.ā
āAnd if I didnāt know any better, Iād say you were purposefully trying to induce a little jealousy.ā Claude replied, eyes sliding down to your lips.
You tilted your chin up, defiantly.
āAnd if I was?ā
There was a small silence, a verbal gauntlet thrown down, and Claude looked at you with an expression that made your insides twist. He reached his free hand out and twined a lock of your hair around his finger, his expression thoughtful.
āThen Iām afraid youāre just going to have to suffer the consequences.ā
~
āClaudeā¦Claude!ā
You were sweating. Heated kisses and a warm, muscular body pressing you to the wall would do that to a person. Along with the fact that you were only on the other side of the room from the entire ballroom ā if somebody left to get a little fresh air, for example, they might well stumble on the scene of the new Duke of House Riegan kissing you against the wall like a naughty schoolboy. You pulled back, feeling a little dazed.
āI know you like to make risky moves, Claude, but isnāt this a bit much?ā you said, a touch breathlessly.
Claude laughed softly, breath tickling your cheek as he moved in closer, pressing his lips to your neck.
āI consider the pros to outweigh the cons in this specific scenario.ā He replied in a murmur.
āWhich are?ā You giggled.
āPros: I get to put my hands on you,ā Claude replied, sucking hard on the skin of your throat, making you gasp. āCons: Someone might see me put my hands on you.ā
āThen why are you doing this in a place where the cons could become a real possibility?ā You asked, though you knew the answer already ā you just wanted to know if heād admit to it.
āIf you want a gamble to have the best possible payoff, then you have to make sure the risk is big enough.ā Claude replied with a wry smile, his fingers squeezing your hips. āAnyway, I didnāt hear you doing much maidenly protesting. Though your mouth was quite occupied at the timeā¦ā
You laughed and pulled him down for another kiss, because he was quite right, of course ā knowing that other people were there, mooning for someone else across the room but not daring to make a move, or chastely dancing together while secretly wishing they could do so much more, gave you an adrenaline rush you hadnāt felt since you were standing on a battlefield so many months ago. These thrills were less likely to come with the potential cost of your life, but they were exciting in an entirely new way.
āClaudeā¦ā you mumbled, leaning into him, resting your hands on his chest, feeling his heart pounding against your palms. It was true youād wanted to get his attention today ā heād been away in Almyra for months and youād missed him. Missed his laugh, the easy way he could banter with just about anyone, the sharp line of his jaw and the particular shade of green of his eyesā¦perhaps going around in a dress the same colour as that cape of his was a little on the nose, but it seemed to have worked.
āMm?ā he seemed preoccupied with your earrings, taking one and giving it a playful little tug, an emerald sparkling between his teeth.
āHow long exactly is the hero of the Leicester Alliance expected to stay at the ball until he can flee into the sunset?ā you asked, tilting your head.
"Flee? Is that how you see me? Some coward who's always running away at the drop of a hat?ā Claude asked, holding a hand to his chest in a parody of shock. "I'm not Bernadetta!"
āI wouldnāt call you a coward,ā you said, then paused. āBut you do tend to rush from place to place without giving people a chance to say goodbye.ā
Understanding dawned across his face, and he ran his fingers through your hair, his touch gentle.
āI had things to do. But I always intended to come back.ā He said, simply. It wasnāt easy feeling torn between two things all the time, but he had hope that now, he could finally act as a whole for the first time in his life.
āStill, a word or two would have been niceā¦ā You said, a little churlishly, unwilling to melt under his touch just yet, not wanting to give up your grievances so easily. You didnāt consider yourself the type to be pining over anyone, but Claude von Riegan wasnāt just anyone.
And here was something you loved about Claude, one of the many things ā instead of getting exasperated or defensive at your stubbornness, your unwillingness to just sink into the moment, into him, a slow smile spreads across his face, honey-sweet.
āOh, sweetheart.ā He cooed, cupping your face. āDid you miss me that much?ā
The sting of his teasing was mitigated by the way he kissed you next, soft and sensually, the scruff of his beard rubbing against your skin, but you didnāt care, you were too busy kissing him back, lips tingling, sighing against him as his hands squeezed your waist like he didnāt want to let go.
āYou know, I think I might be able to make it up to you.ā Claude said breathlessly, when you both finally paused for ear. Some of your lipstick was smudging his face and a perverse stab of pride poked you at the sight of it. āIf youāre willing, that is.ā
āThat depends on what it is,ā you replied, your lips tingling. You knew you were smiling despite your grumpy tone.
āOh, youāll like it. But weād have to get on my wyvern to see it.ā Claude replied, brushing his thumb across your bottom lip. āThink of it as an adventure.ā
An adventure with Claude soundedā¦well, even a casual conversation with Claude could be exciting, he was the kind of person who could talk about any subject. But to be whisked away into the unknown made your stomach perform a swooping feeling, almost a pre-emptive recreation of what sitting atop a dragon was like.
āSo am I being kidnapped now?ā You said with an excited giggle, the possibilities opening up to you suddenly making this spacious corridor seem like a prison youāre about to break free from, and Claude laughed back. āWill you stop and write out a ransom first?ā
āYou know what us Almyrans alike. We just canāt resist something pretty to take for our own.ā He teased, pulling your flush against him. āWhat do you say we have a real celebration?ā
His eyes glinted with mischievous intent, reminding you sharply of the emerald earrings youād carefully slotted into your ears as you were dressing for the ball. You leaned into his embrace, breathing in the scent of Claude, parchment and cloves and pine needles.
āThatās fine with me. I donāt mind being stolen.ā You whispered back to him, and his answering kiss sealed the deal.
general relationship hcs with diluc? fluff and spice if thats okay!
diluc ā° relationship hcs!
gn reader. slight nsfw under the cut!
despite his cold demeanor and hard exterior diluc is actually the softest genshin boy i said it okay
maybe not in the most conventional ways though, like i donāt see diluc as someone too comfy with pda
but he expresses his love for you in other ways
like how every time he enters a room heās immediately looking for you
and when his eyes do land on you his face instantaneously lights up
it wouldnāt go unnoticed by others either, klee shouting āthe big scary man is smiling i didnāt know he could do that!ā
jean would have to slap a hand over her mouth, whispering to the small girl that master diluc is not to be referred to as big scary man and you would just stifle your laugh at the sight of dilucās slightly hurt expression
his face would soften only after you stand before him, greeting him and itās the small things like the slight tilt of your head and your sweet smile when you tell him āgood morning, dilucā that reminds him how much he loves you.
he really likes the way his name sounds on your lips
if it wasnāt for the presence of others heād kiss you breathless with every greeting and parting
although only part of his life for a short period youāve impacted him in countless ways
slumber can never really take over him anymore unless your tucked into his chest, snoring softly. he wont admit it but he really likes being the smaller spoon
when you take off his gloves and kiss the tips of his calloused fingers one by one, his chest floods with warmth every time
his hands always feel miserably cold when theyāre not intertwined with yours, despite the literal pyro adorning his claymore
smiling has become a lot less rare of an occurence, his lips are always curled upwards while in your presence
heās slightly clingy, but not in an overbearing way, he knows youāre independent and strong enough to take care of yourself, but that doesnāt stop him from worrying about your wellbeing 24/7
he has to know where you are at all times, if you were to ever go missing he would literally search every inch of teyvat without a wink of sleep, partially because heās worried sick but also because he canāt sleep without you beside him
heās easily jealous, definitely gets irked more times than heād like to admit whenever he sees you and kaeya getting a little too cozy, but then again he knows his brother does it just to get under his skin
heās very possessive but in subtle ways, he wonāt make a big scene and threaten a personās life for courting you
but he will make sure to leave a nice reminder on your neck, visible to everyone that you are in fact taken
dilucās a busy man, so realistically he canāt be with you as often as he likes, so the times he does have you to himself heās a bit overbearing
dilucās kisses are really passionate, heās not great with words so he tries his best to translate what he feels into the way he moves his lips and body against you
time alone with him in his arms is just body worship time really
not even in a sexual way but i mean if you wanna get spicy then yes
he kisses you. everywhere.
his favorite place to kiss is beneath your ear, right along your jaw, you can always feel his breath against your ear when he kisses you there
he knows the effect it has on you, so of course heād whisper reminders of just how beautiful you are, right on your most sensitive skin, an amused smirk on his face at the sound of you whimpering his name
diluc doesnāt fuck okay, he makes love. unless he had a bad day i mean if he had a bad day by all means blow my back out sir.
but usually he just focuses on making you feel good, making sure youāre reaching that place first before he thinks about himself
missionary so he can see your face, rest his forehead against yours and breathe in your moans of his name. keeping you as close as possible until you canāt tell where you begin and he ends.
his stamina is a1 so expect mutiple rounds, even when youāre done heās not pulling out sorry i dont make the rules
cockwarming time!
he sleeps best when the two of you are connected like this, when you hold him against your chest, playing with his hair, twirling your fingers in between his crimson locks, kissing his forehead gently
diluc is a big cuddle bear really but only behind closed doors. youāre the only person that would ever get to see him for who he truly is, and that in itself is a declaration of love really.
New fan of your blog here and just wanted to say to be safe, take care of yourself, stay hydrated, and take all the time you need š
-Harzna (my multifandom blog and fellow Genshin simp)
thank u sm !! i have so many ideas spiraling in my head at all times & get so many nice requests but its just so hard to sit down and write everything without my mind blanking T_T
vivi have you rolled yet on the zhongli banner? razor doesnt wanna come home to me :(
NO IM SO BROKE RN . im struggling to pay basic bills so zhongli will unfortunately have to wait </3 hopefully razor comes home to u soon!! manifesting wolf boy for u anonnie <333
this isnāt a request but i just want you to know that i love your work so much and iām so super soft for it and youāre doing so good. i hope youāre taking the time to take care of yourself, and i look forward to everything you make!! ((esp felix content i am so deprived))
ahh this is such late reply but thank u sm :( i feel bad about how inactive ive been on here but mental health + school just rly kicks my ass. im doing better now and have returned and will definitely have some more felix content out for u soon hehe
AS MUCH AS IM EXCITED FOR IT pls take care of yourself ok š„ŗš„ŗ ik from personal experience that writing can be taxing and stressful āāā do what you do best (safely), QUEEN
i will !! writing is a personal hobby of mine but u kno my brain gets fried n idk how to write anything else besides like CLAUDE SEXY ! DIMITRI WORSHIP so yea break is OVER im ready and willing to write a novella at this point :D
omg your recent felix hcs!! THEY WERE SO GOOD IM GONNA CRY OMGGG...your writing style is just &:&.&:&@.@:!!??! PERFECT??! i literally love them sm its not even funny MDMXMD
AHHH THIS GAVE ME A SUGAR RUSH PLS UR TOO SWEET <3 im so happy u like my writing !! srsly msgs like these rly rly make my day u have no idea !! I LUV U
