➵ ᛝ ⸝⸝⸝ ⌞ obscura ⋮ oleander x gn!reader ⌝ ⸝⸝⸝ ᛝ ˎˊ˗
◟◟ cw. maskless oleander, might be slightly ooc idk ᝰ.ᐟ
◟◟ a/n. took me long enough to finally finish writing something again.. i have too many wips. this is kinda just my post oleander chp 2 much needed fluff therapy ᝰ.ᐟ
It felt a bit awkward to say the least. Seeing a maskless face down in the market, where masks and false identities were worn and flaunted like a second skin.
But, what a sight this was to behold.
The usually eccentric and boisterous gadfly you’ve come to know was now sitting in silence, with an almost vulnerable expression on his face. Gone was the familiar mask he wore, and in its place was the raw, unguarded image of him, unadorned and unmasked.
“Well, how do I look?” Oleander asked, his tone laced with mock confidence. “Was it exactly what you expected, or are you somehow very unfortunately disappointed?”
A beat. His bravado faltered as you continued to stare in silence, his cocky facade slowly crumbling. The confidence in his voice was replaced with a slight hesitance. “Hey..”
The words slipped out like a secret meant only for the night—soft, undeniable.
His breath caught, just slightly, as if unprepared for the honesty in your voice. The silence that followed wasn't empty; it pulsed with something tender and dangerous, like a heartbeat beneath still skin.
“Oh,” for once, he had no clever reply, no barbed wit to shield himself. Just wide eyes and a quiet tremor.
After a breath, maybe two, he blinked and snapped back into himself like a blade sliding into its sheath—smooth, practiced, sharp. “Well, I mean of course I look beautiful, it's me,” he said, trying to sound nonchalant as he turned away, avoiding eye contact.
It felt strangely intimate—uncanny, even—to see his every flicker of emotion laid bare.
But you? You were never one to waste an opening. “Can’t face me without a mask, pretty boy?”
You barely caught the way the corner of his lips tugged upwards, an effort to maintain his composure. “Pretty boy now, is it?” he mused, raising an eyebrow playfully.
“Careful there,” he quipped back, “you keep tossing around terms like that, and I’ll start to think you’re sweet on me.”
A beat. A breath. The air between you hummed with something unspoken—warm, daring, dangerously close to real.
