Zandik didn't spare you a single glance as he sat hunched, poring over countless documents that gave you a headache even thinking about.
Hours had gone by like this since he'd told you to wait just five more minutes for him to finish up. You pulled your blanket tighter around your body, tiredness making the cold air even more prominent than usual.
The candle on his desk had burned out a while ago, not that he seemed to have noticed.
Your eyes fluttered shut, not wanting to admit defeat and trudge to bed without him, but also unable to focus on the book in your lap. The couch was soft and the pillows inviting. Just resting your eyes for a few minutes wouldn't hurt.
As your consciousness slipped into a light slumber, you faintly registered a satisfied sigh from across the room.
"Finally. You were saying?"
You grumbled about his tardiness under your breath. Zandik simply chuckled. Warm and unguarded.
"Something about loving me perhaps?" He pushed back his chair, at least you assumed so from the sound of wood scraping against the floor.
Cold knuckles brushed along your cheek.
"Did no such thing..."
He smelled like sandalwood and cinnamon and you greedily buried your face into the crook of his neck when he hoisted you into his arms.
"My precious darling, can't even stay awake while I finish work?"
You sank your teeth into his skin, nearly making him trip over himself.
"It's been hours you moron..."
"Oh," Zandik breathed out a sigh, his hold tightening as he crossed the threshold to your bedroom. A gentle kiss was placed atop your head. "I'll make it up to you tomorrow. Rest now."
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OG Zandik who is always hounding you (and Feofan) about any bad habits but refuses to acknowledge his own pocket always being full of sweets.
OG Zandik who is somehow still too proud to admit that he loves it if you fuss a little about him, adjust his scarf, help him put on or take off his coat, bring him his cane etc.
OG Zandik who reads to you in bed every night while you're snuggled up against him and refuses to stop even when you complain that he always falls asleep mid-reading.
OG Zandik who teaches you how to shave him when his hands get too unsteady to do it himself. Of course, he only relents after the millionth time you point out the places he's nicked himself with the blade.
OG Zandik who learns to play your favourite pieces on the piano and tries to teach you as well, often leading to him kissing your fingertips and just holding your hands instead.
OG Zandik who had to excuse himself to hide the fact that he was crying when he saw how gentle you were with segment 8.
OG Zandik who holds and kisses you every night like he fears it'd be the last time.
OG Zandik who can't get it up without help anymore but doesn't mind at all since he would much rather have you ride his face.
OG Zandik who boops your nose because you just look far too cute riding his thigh or boot.
OG Zandik who believes in discipline and won't hesitate to make you get in his lap so he can spank you with his cane.
OG Zandik who is still far too swift to indulge you and never lets you out of his lap after a disciplinary session before you've made a mess on his fingers.
OG Zandik who loves when you kiss him and compliments him but will never ask for it.
OG Zandik who is always telling you how lovely you are and how sweet you look, no matter if he's currently punishing you or not.
OG Zandik who has the most sensitive nipples and absolutely whimpers if you suck on them. Same with his balls.
Author's note: Drabble where we force the segments to celebrate zandik on father's day. It's the least they can do. Established relationship w reader. Not proofread and written in ~half an hour.
Zandik was fast asleep in his favourite armchair (as he were most evenings these days) snoring far louder than should be possible with a body as frail-looking as his.
You'd tried pretty much everything to wake him gently and vehemently refused to entertain 8s idea of putting insects in his pants. Kisses on his nose didn't work, nor did nudging his shoulder, nor poking his cheek, nor calling his name. You'd need a plan and fast, most of the segments were already tapping their feet and grumbling amongst themselves about wasted time.
A loud CLANG made you jump, looking around for the source of the noise and seeing a somewhat flustered looking 18 with both hands in the air and Zandik's cane now on the ground.
"Huh- wha?" Zandik roused from his slumber, adjusting the monocle that had fallen onto his chest while asleep.
"See? It worked exactly as expected.." 18 dusted off his robes, pushing away a laughing 8.
You tried to pay the squabbling boys no mind, instead placing yourself in the original's lap and pressing a kiss to his cheek to mitigate the annoyance already present in his expression. Being awoken by that many people surely didn't sit well with someone claiming to never have impromptu naps before bed.
"Ah ah, before you get cranky," you briefly pressed your lips to his to further pacify him, "they have something they want to say." You looked expectantly at the assembled group of fidgeting segments. Everyone except 35 who had been sent to take care of a meeting. They all looked equally uncomfortable. "Right boys?"
18 sneered and looked away. 65 chuckled.
"Happy father's day" Despite practicing, they sounded terribly out of sync.
Zandik sat in stunned silence, his fingers tightening around the armrests before he instead moved his hands to rub at his eyes.
"Am I dreaming? Or dead?"
You shook your head and laughed at the collective groan from the segments.
8 was the first to step forward, nearly tossing a little plush into Zandik's arms. It vaguely resembled an aranara, if aranara were made from mismatched fabric scraps and had bolts instead of eyes.
The child seemed to have opened the floodgates and both 18 and 25 approached in rapid succession with their own 'offerings'. A piece of knafeh in a box quite a bit smaller than the batch you knew the segment had made, and a new chain for his monocle.
45 had been reluctant to participate at all and decided to once more air out his thoughts on the matter by sighing loudly as he approached the stunned Zandik. A bottle of wine was placed neatly into his lap.
65 hummed while he approached. By now, Zandik had somewhat recovered from the initial shock and had taken to inspecting each item with disbelief, gently setting them aside onto the nearby coffee table.
"This," 65 began with something akin to glee in his hushed voice, "is in my humble opinion the best gift any 'father' could wish for." A small bundle of paper slips changed hands before the masked segment backed away. "Each ticket is good for one use, spend them wisely."
"You'll go to gatherings for me?" Zandik's brow furrowed as he thumbed through the handwritten tickets.
"Oh heavens no, but I'll make one of the others do it on your behalf." 65 chuckled as the other segments froze in disbelief.
You had to bury your face against Zandik's neck to stifle your laughter as 65 began herding the segments out as their arguing grew louder.
"Happy father's day."
Zandik huffed in disbelief as the door closed, the segments' angry shouting gradually growing more distant as they went down the hall. He set aside the last gift, ruffling your hair with a deep sigh.
"And what about you? Nothing for me for my effort in 'raising' them?"
You snorted, bringing up a hand to cup his cheek.
"The effort of convincing them to do this was quite enough effort on my part don't you think? Or are you so greedy that you want more?"
Zandik smiled fondly and adjusted you in his lap. "My dear, when would I ever say no to more of your affection? But first, I want to know exactly what you said to get them to agree, spare me no detail."
Author's note: Drabble where Omega is forced to wish Zandik a happy father's day. Part 2-esque to this because someone on ao3 asked for the same with omega ^^
Nothing dared pierce the deafening silence. It lasted only a moment, but a stranger would've been writhing in agony from how unpleasant the atmosphere had turned the moment Omega had opened the door.
Zandik cleared this throat and shut his book.
Omega adjusted his cravat.
"Whatever it is, it's too late in the evening 35. I need my sleep these days."
"Always assuming you're needed for guidance.. And they say wisdom grows with age.. No, I'm here for the same reason the rest visited earlier."
Omega cocked his head and Zandik followed the line from his beak to where the little aranara toy his 8 year old segment stood displayed. He raised a brow in surprise.
"You're here to-" Zandik couldn't help but chuckle and shake his head. "Now that is a surprise."
"Oh?" Omega advanced a few steps, one hand perpetually clasped behind his back. "You don't think me capable of extending the same sentiment as the rest?"
The posture was supposed to make his shoulders look wider by using the hand as a reminder to straighten his back. Zandik remembered well the years of fretting over how he presented himself as a harbinger.
He hummed quietly, fingers idly tapping the handle of his cane. "I imagine you're perfectly capable, but I find it difficult to believe that you'd do it of your own free will."
Omega smiled at that, sharp teeth clenched together more tightly than warranted for someone unaffected by the taunt.
"Your little lover wouldn't let me hear the end of it if I didn't go. Nor would the others. A moment of displeasure is nothing compared to the torment that would be."
The sound of military boots against solid stone echoed faintly from the hallway.
"So I shouldn't consider this a show of gratitude?" Zandik couldn't help but smile when the other adjusted the mask.
Omega huffed. "Let's not pretend you've ever shown a semblance of fatherly care towards any of us."
A true enough statement. Care, perhaps, he'd at least come to accept all parts of himself with time. If that hadn't been the case, he'd have taken apart most of the segments long ago.
Both of them remained quiet, neither willing to acknowledge that the mere concept they were discussing was so foreign that it made Zandik's skin crawl if he thought too long about it. Sure, he'd observed it many times, but never been on the receiving end. Any attempt from him would've been an imitation. And all of them, even the youngest, were created to remain stagnant.
His care would change nothing.
Omega moved his the hand from behind his back, dumping a metal clasp into Zandik's lap. It looked like a repurposed component from the primal constructs of Al-Ahmar's time, much like the ones Omega himself wore in several places. It was cold to the touch, metal sanded smooth to perfection.
When Zandik looked up, Omega was already halfway out the door, stopping only briefly to look back.
"Use it with your scarf. You look ridiculous when it's fluttering everywhere."
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The quiet chukle doesn't wake you. Nor does the gentle sound of your name being called.
But the sharp clink of a porcelain mug being placed on the table in front of you has your eyes snapping open and your body jolting out of its tired haze.
"Ah, so that's what it takes? You're up awfully early, trouble sleeping?"
"Mr. Adler? What're you-.." You cut yourself off, remembering that you'd staggered into the main building after hours of tossing and turning.
He takes a seat beside you, everything about him looking far more relaxed than you're used to. His posture less rigid, lips not yet set in the usual small smile, he looks almost at peace.
"I was about to begin preparing breakfast when I noticed you."
Adler pushes the mug towards you, the scent of tea, light and floral, flooding your senses. You gratefully bring it to your lips and take a sip before replying.
"Yeah, trouble sleeping.. Not sure why, I've just been having either nightmares or too realistic dreams lately."
He nods solemnly, one hand running through his hair. You can't help but notice the callouses now that he's yet to put on gloves, his hands marked with signs of countless hours of labour.
"I have a few suggestions to improve your sleep, let me prepare a few for tonight. Until then, why not drink your tea and try to close your eyes before the rest of Eibon wakes up?"
Event masterlist.
Your favourite scholar just wants to be left alone. Or have a treat. Or maybe he wants both.
Warnings: Zandik x f reader, blood, suggestive, 1.1k
Minors DNI
It had been a day like any other. Utterly unremarkable from the first break of dawn until darkness crept back across the land.
Perhaps Zandik's mind had been preoccupied, remembering neither rustling leaves nor the warmth of spice in the air from his walk only an hour prior.
Tapping the end of his pen against the pages of A Comprehensive Collection of Legends from the Era of King Deshret (fourth edition, so much for being comprehensive, scholars truly ought to learn restraint when assuming their own level of knowledge) offered nothing in terms of stirring memory.
It did, however, leave unsightly ink blots on the yellowed paper.
Well, students were encouraged to leave notes in the books they took out anyway.
Another point of difference from usual was how the coffee tasted despite multiple reassurances from the waitress that it was the same blend as always.
Swallowing sand would've been preferable to the bitter substance currently swirling in his cup. At least it would reinvigorate him all the same. No matter how he'd rubbed at his brow and massaged his temples a foul headache had accompanied him for days like some ancient curse. Once more, he attempted to focus on the letters, finding that they still danced before his eyes.
A voice cut through the background, his name stunning him like a flash of electro.
Had it been possible, Zandik would've turned into a hydro slime and disappeared through the cracks of the wooden bench. He settled for sliding down in his seat and trying to blend in with the colorful pillows.
It should have been obvious how little he wanted to be disturbed, yet your smile remained as you loomed above him. "I thought you hated sitting here?" You beamed at him and he almost felt like squinting his eyes.
Zandik grunted out a confirmation, waving your face away as he sat back up straight. Maybe this was a sign from above that he should be packing up and going home for the day. Getting anything done felt even more impossible now that you were there.
"I do but-" Zandik hissed, heat spreading across his face as you so shamelessly nudged him aside to make room for yourself.
Before his head could hit the table in frustration, you'd pulled his book out from beneath him. "Oh, King Deshret? Working on an assignment?"
"Sure."
"You don't sound too excited about-"
"Do you think I'd be torturing myself by staying here if I had enjoyable studies to submerge myself in?" He'd snapped at you, lifted his head just enough to see you blink those stupidly bright eyes at him.
It felt like people were staring. The room had become a vacuum, devoid of any sound and impossible to breathe in.
A cup was placed before you and the tension broke. Chatter rolled like a wave until the usual sounds of the cafe had returned. The waitress winked at you as she set down a plate as well.
Zandik was grateful for the distraction, less so for the sweet scent now making it decisively impossible for him to focus on anything other than the fact that he'd skipped both breakfast and lunch.
There were two pieces of pastry. Two pieces of baklava. There was no way you were planning to eat that by yourself.
His tongue darted out to wet his lips.
No way, right?
It was your chuckle that made him look away from the flaky piece of heaven. You looked like a misbehaving child who'd gotten away with their mischief.
"You're lucky I ordered before sitting down."
Zandik's breath hitched when you lifted a piece and held it out towards him. Maybe the day could still end on a positive note. A bite of sugar to replenish his energy and his mind would surely shake off this unpleasant sense of wrongness.
Iron and sugar melted on his tongue, flooding his senses to have his eyes roll back in bliss. A moan struggled to part from his syrupy lips as skin and sinew tore beneath his teeth.
Then your cry pierced the serenity, forcing him back to fingers clawing at his jaw. The reality of two discarded pastries on the ground kicked in. Crimson stained the pillow between you. There wasn't even a bite taken out of the pastry you'd offered him. Had he really just-?
Your bloody hand was swiftly freed as his scattered thoughts attempted to order themselves, pulling a blanket into his lap while you tore your hand from his teeth. A choked sob escaped your lips. It looked bad, your hand, like some of the bites Zandik had seen Amurta students who'd been careless around wildlife with.
He'd wanted to taste you for long, but surely not like this? It should feel foul, the way blood not only dripped from your wounds but rushed between his legs as well. His pulse thrummed in his ears, everything else drowned out as he pressed his tongue to the roof of his mouth. Could he prolong the taste somehow?
How did you taste so sweet?
Zandik shuffled away, knocking over his cup in a frantic search for a napkin. This time people were staring. Everyone was staring. They'd think he'd done it. He had.
But he hadn't done it intentionally.
And how would that hold up if questioned?
Taste momentarily pushed to the back of his mind, Zandik threw the few napkins he'd found into your lap and promptly clasped a hand over your mouth to stop your whines. He tried to offer an apologetic smile to those he locked eyes with but their whispers and skeptical gazes remained.
Their voices were too loud, too close. Zandik knew what they were saying, calling him a monster, a freak. Getting ready to throw him out or beat him to death.
Zandik blinked.
That couldn't be right. He shouldn't be able to hear them. His ribs hurt as he took a shaky breath. Should he comfort you? You looked like a wounded animal, wiping blood from your hand while a waitress - when had she shown up? - cooed at you.
No, he should go home and sleep. Yes, that infernal headache was the cause of this. His mind hadn't worked properly and he'd misjudged the distance to the pastry you'd held towards him. Sleep would fix him.
He just had to get home without anyone noticing the completely unrelated tightness in his pants.
Diluc on his knees between your legs, lapping at you like a man starved. Your legs are draped over his shoulders, thighs occasionally squeezing around his head. He's completely lost in you, barely aware of anything until you're a shaky, whimpering mess, tugging at his hair in an effort to get a moment of respite. That's when he realises, on either side of your hips, seared into the old oak desk, are a set of handprints from where he held on to to balance himself. Diluc can't possibly part with his father's desk, and having it sanded down would also feel wrong... The ink stain he'd made as a child would disappear as well... But he can excuse his flushed cheeks with something trivial as the heat and hide the marks with some strategically placed papers when he has people over.
