helloboystimetooruntoo221b

[helloboystimetooruntoo221b]

Y/N: Hey so as my stalker exactly how much of my life do you see? Ghost, from inside the walls: Are you asking because you tripped on your own shoelaces in the hallway and fell on your face? Y/N: oh..so you saw that... Ghost, trying to be nice: ....no

[helloboystimetooruntoo221b]

a watched nut never busts. or something. i dont fucking know what you people find funny anymore. 9/11.

[helloboystimetooruntoo221b]

in your hands

in which, daddy surgeon zayne is stressed asf and y/n gives him a good old massage ;)

The sound of the door opening announces his arrival, and you’re already moving toward the door, anticipation bubbling in your chest. When Zayne steps inside, your breath catches at how attractive and distraught he looks. He’s dressed immaculately in his tailored grey three-piece suit, the vest hugging his broad chest and trim waist perfectly. The silver chain of his pocket watch gleams faintly under the soft lights, and the crisp white dress shirt underneath is slightly rolled at the sleeves, revealing strong, veiny, forearms. His tie is loosened just enough to hint at the strain of his day, and his dark hair, usually so immaculate, is artfully tousled from the long hours.

His sharp gaze meets yours, the intensity in his dark eyes softening as they take you in. "Hey," he murmurs, his voice low and tired but still rich and warm.

Without hesitation, you close the distance and wrap your arms around him, pressing your face against his chest. His body is firm and warm beneath the fine fabric, the steady rhythm of his heartbeat grounding you as much as your embrace seems to do for him.

"Long day?" you ask softly, your voice muffled against him.

"That’s one way to put it," he replies, his tone edged with exhaustion. Still, his arms come up to hold you, his large hands resting lightly on your back.

You pull back slightly, enough to look up into his striking features. Even tired, Zayne exudes an effortless charm that makes your pulse quicken. "Come on," you say, taking his hand and guiding him to the couch. "Sit down and let me take care of you."

He simply raises an eyebrow, letting you lead him without protest. "You don’t have to do this, Y/N," he says, his deep voice teasing but grateful.

"I want to," you reply firmly.

Once he’s seated, you step behind the couch, placing your hands gently on his shoulders. You reach down and carefully slide his glasses off, setting them on the nearby table.

"Better," you say softly, leaning down just enough to catch the faint flicker of amusement in his eyes as you brush your hands down his face softly.

Your hands find his shoulders again, and as you knead into the thick muscles beneath the fine fabric of his suit, you can feel the tension he’s been carrying all day. His body is so solid, so strong, and yet he melts under your touch as though you’ve found the exact release he’s needed.

"Zayne, you’re so tense," you murmur, your thumbs digging into a particularly tight spot.

"Comes with the job," he mutters, his head tilting forward slightly.

You hum thoughtfully, your hands moving up to his neck and then into his hair. As your fingers massage his scalp, his dark locks silky under your touch, he lets out a low, quiet groan that sends a thrill through you.

"You’re amazing, you know that?" you whisper, your voice filled with admiration. "The way you work, how much you care…and how you look..... it’s incredible."

His lips twitch into a faint smile. "You say that every time," he replies, his tone softer now, the weight of his day starting to lift.

"And I mean it every time," you counter, leaning down until your face is close to his. Without thinking, you slide your hands forward to cup his face, tilting it back slightly so he’s looking up at you.

Zayne blinks, surprised but not displeased, his piercing gaze meeting yours as his strong jaw rests lightly in your palms. From this angle, his features are even more striking—his smooth lips, his skin that glistens effortlessly, and the way his dark eyes seem to pull you in completely.

"You’re so handsome," you whisper, your thumbs brushing over his cheekbones.

He smirks faintly, his expression softening. "And you’re so shameless," he teases, his voice warm and full of affection.

"Maybe," you admit, leaning down further, your lips brushing his in a soft, lingering kiss.

Zayne’s hands come up to rest over yours as he tilts his head slightly, deepening the kiss. It’s slow and warm, a quiet exchange of everything you both feel but don’t need to say despite the awkward position. When you finally pull back, his eyes are half-lidded, his expression more relaxed than you’ve seen all day.

"You spoil me," he murmurs, his voice low and husky.

"You deserve it," you reply simply, your hands still resting on his face as you lean in for one more kiss, savoring the quiet, intimate moment.

[helloboystimetooruntoo221b]

Oooh

Want a pokemon egg?

Every person who reblogs this will have a Pokémon egg in their submissions and a few days later a Pokémon will hatch from the egg.

The Pokémon will be submitted based on their blog. It may be shiny or even a legendary. (Have your submissions open and only reblog, likes do not count.)

[helloboystimetooruntoo221b]

Comedy short: who broke the coffee pot?(Bones)

Paring: reader x jeffersonian staff

Summary: cam wants to know who broke the coffee pot.

A/n: bones requests are open!

MasterList

Cam called a staff meeting today... No one would have ever predicted that it would be about a broken coffee pot. Not a corpse, not a piece of broken bone, but a broken pot.

They all stood around the broken coffee pot confused, in the coffee maker it's self was large beaker from the lab in place of the pot. All of us minus Bones, she was aggravated she was taken away from her work for this.

“So...” Cam said crossing her arms “Who broke it? I'm not mad, I just wanna know.” she said softly looking at everyone.

Everyone stayed silent as Seeley and Lance walked in confused. Lance walked up next to y/n looking at the broken glass. Before he could ask what happened y/n sighed when she saw everyone's silent panic and spoke up.

“...I did. I broke it.” y/n said trying to save who's ever ass broke it.

Cam shook her head and sighed “No. No you didn't, you don't even drink coffee. Dr. Hodgins?”

Jack looked insulted that she would even mention him, did he not relize how many beakers he's broken in the Lab? “Don't look at me. Look at Wendell”

The blond look bewildered and gave Jack a dirty look before turning to Cam. “What?! I didn't break it.”

Jack hummed and looked at Cam like he cracked the case “Huh, that's weird. How'd you even know it was broken?”

Wendell started to get annoyed, he rubbed his fave then pointed to the broken glass “Because it's sitting right in front of us and it's broken.”

Jack shrugged “Suspicious.”

“No, it's not!” Wendell said shaking his head. Cam, who just wanted an answer sighed right back and looked towards Seeley who interjected.

“If it matters, probably not, but Lance was the last one to use it.” y/n and Lance both looked at him shocked.

“Liar! I don't even work here!” Lance said stepping away from the group.

“Oh really? Then what were you doing by the coffee cart last night?” Seeley asked in joking matter, he wasn't really trying to blame him.

“Because Brennan asked me to get her a cup of coffee while I got y/n her tea. They were both working late last Everyone knows that, Booth” Lance quickly said and his story check out.

Angela sighed and put her hands up “Okay let's not fight. I broke it. Let me pay for it, Cam”

Cam stoped her and held up the lose handle “No! Who broke it!?”

Everyone stayed quiet, they all shared glances just waiting for someone to crack. Jack's eyes fell on Bones who was now checking her watch.

Jack glanced at Cam “Cam Brennan's been awfully quiet.”

Bones gasped, shocked anyone would accuse her of such accusations “really Dr. Hodgins?!”

Everyone starts arguing after that, the squints and the scientists that is. Lance and Seeley stared, still confused on what just happened. Cam just snickered and walked over to the boys. “I broke it by accident. It burned my hand so I punched it.”

Seeley and Lance started chuckling when they saw y/n throw a hand full of coffee stirrers at Wendell and Jack.

Seeley chuckled. “I predict 10 minutes from now they'll be at each other's throats with warpaint on their faces and a skull on a stick.”

*Later at the Bureau*

“crap!” James sighed as the sound of glass shattering filled his ears, he quickly looked around for witness hoping no one saw him break the coffee pot in the break room.

Caroline sighed and pulled out her phone from a distance, James didn't see her dialing Cam's number. “Cam, tell me how you handled the coffee pot situation at the jeffersonian”

[helloboystimetooruntoo221b]

Confessions

pairing ⁀➷  james aubrey x reader

word count⁀➷  900+

summary⁀➷ You and Aubrey are married but because you don't work together very often, the team doesn't know it yet, which changes when you all meet at the royal diner after a case.

warnings⁀➷ is marriage a warning?, some fluff, the case i mentioned is not a real case they had

a/n ⁀➷ i couldn’t resist writing for aubrey so i hope you’ll have as much fun reading as i had writing it x

masterlist

„I'm glad this case is over." Angela sighed as you entered the Royal Diner. „Me too. I'm afraid of marionettes anyway, I don't need them in my job. Ugh..." you shivered by the thought of the poor person.

You gathered around the table your team always had when you would go to the diner. At this point, any other table would feel just very wrong. „Are Hodgins and Aubrey on their way?" Cam asked the group. „Mhm, I guess. Aubrey told me he'd wait up for Hodgins because they had to take some notes for the report." Booth answered her.

This was your favourite part of every case, even though it wasn't all of you each time. Sitting at the diner together, talking about the things that happened, but also personal things. These people quickly became your best friends. They welcomed you from the second you stepped foot into the Jeffersonian and integrated you into their group. Now that Aubrey was working with Booth at the FBI, it would be even better.

„What can I get you guys?" Joanne smiled at us.

„The usual please." Booth and Brennan ordered, Cam didn't want anything but water and so did Angela.

„A burger, fries and a salad please." you smiled. „Alright, I'll be back in a sec." Joanne wrote everything down and left your table. You could feel the eyes of the others on you, „You seem hungry, Y/N." Brennan laughed lightly.

You chuckled, „Oh, it's for Aubrey.". Cam frowned and made the typical expression she always did when she was confused. Angela on the other hand already seemed to know what's up but kept it for herself.

„There they are!" Booth greeted Hodgins and Aubrey when they entered the diner. „Sorry it took longer than expected. He didn't accept the words normal people use." Aubrey sarcastically commented.

„Actually, it is usually very important to use the correct technical terms." Brennan commented. „Thank you." Hodgins said.

You grinned at the interaction between them. It's always like that, and it's exactly what makes them so lovable. Aubrey has been with the team for about a month, but you never had the chance to really work together during a case, until now.

Angela slid her chair a bit to the side to make room for Aubrey next to you, totally on purpose, of course. Hodgins meanwhile sat down on her other side. Just in time for the two to sit down, Joanna came back with a plate for Brennan, apple cake for Booth and your order.

„Here you go, anything else you'd like?" she asked. „No, thanks, Joanna." Booth smiled, and she nodded.

Aubrey smiled at you when he saw the plates in front of him. „Thank you." His hand caressed your tight. „I wouldn't dare to not order when I know exactly what your mood is like when you're hungry." you chuckled. The others were already in conversation, so they didn't listen to what you and Aubrey talked about.

He took a big bite of his burger, which he could barely get into his mouth, and exhaled happily. "I love you." he told the burger, and you had to laugh softly.

The others looked at him laughing. Everyone knew Aubrey's love for food.

Booth raised an eyebrow, "How do you even get that thing in your mouth?". "Oh, it'll fit somehow." Aubrey mumbled, his mouth still full. Booth just shook his head, but everyone could see the slight smirk.

"I really hope we can finally do a proper experiment next time," Hodgins sighed. "I'm not going to even ask what you're hoping for." Cam laughed. Hodgins started, „You know, we haven't-„

Suddenly they all went quiet. You chewed the fry you stole from Aubrey's plate. „Everything okay?" you asked carefully, swallowing. Aubrey looked just as confused as you did, as he handed you another one. Everyone's eyes got even wider at that.

Finally, Booth said, „James Aubrey does not share his food.", „Nor does anyone know what he's even ordering, as much as he always eats." Hodgins added.

Brennan's gaze would've almost been uncomfortable if you didn't know her so well. You chuckled, „Oh.". „We're married." Aubrey laughed, and you grinned when you both raised your hands at the same time to show them the wedding rings.

Booth looked like something hit him, „That explains a lot." Cam commented enlightened. „As if none of you have noticed," Angela laughed, „You're all so smart but so blind at normal things sometimes.". „I must confess that I should have noticed it. Congratulations, by the way." Brennan admitted and smiled at the last part of her sentence. "Thank you." you giggled. "Wait, how long have you guys been married?" Booth asked.

"Almost four years." Aubrey said, cracking a grin at Booth's facial expression. "So that's what Caroline always meant." Booth quietly talked to himself.

You could picture Caroline giving Seeley a poke in the back of the head for being so slow on the uptake.

„We don't make a secret out of it, I guess it just never really came up." you chuckled.

„Well now we know." Cam laughed. "As long as you let us know then when you're planning on having a little Aubrey or a little Y/N, I can just about forgive you for this one," Angela joked, and everyone broke out laughing. "Promised." You joined the laughter as Aubrey intertwined his hand with yours under the table and smiled at you.

masterlist

[helloboystimetooruntoo221b]

thinking about your post about you anxiously bouncing your knee and that got me thinking of price and how he sees you (his wife) bouncing her knee and puts his warm hand on it to calm her down <33

well i feel so seen with this one omgmgmg.

i feel like it's something he does every time he notices you doing it. so it just becomes like an instant relief to the nerves coursing through your body.

the first time he noticed wasn't long after you started dating, normally you were hyperaware of your little anxious tics and tried to keep them at bay to avoid any questions. but, the first time you let it slip was when you were sitting in the passenger seat of his car, the two of you on your way to have him meet your parents. his eyes catching the movement of your leg from the corner of his eyes while he stayed focused on the road, both hands gripping the steering wheel.

the thing with price though, as opposed to so many others, didn't ask what had you so worked up. he knew something was on your mind and he could figure it was having him meet his parents, so why ask the silly question he already knew the answer to? instead, one hand slipping away from the steering wheel and finding it's new spot on your thigh. the warmth of his palm passing through the fabric of your pants, it was almost like if he removed it his handprint would have been branded onto you. giving a soft squeeze, he moves it back and forth in a soothing manner and his eyes never leaving the road. no words spoken, but your eyes locked onto your thigh as you noticed the leg has stopped bouncing and a chill releasing down from your neck as a weight lifts from your body.

and he does it every time he sees the leg bounce after that time. the only time he wasn't there to stop the bouncing is when you were sitting in the chair as your makeup and hair were getting done for your wedding. "you've got to stop bouncing. it's making your whole body slightly shake and i need to get the makeup done, love." the artist says sweetly, your let stopping for a brief moment before it starts again, but more subtly this time. and just before the makeup artists asks you again, you glance at your phone quickly to see a message from price.

keep the leg still today. see you at the alter x

your leg instantly stilling at the message, a smile creeping onto your lips. glancing at the makeup artist, you apologize quietly before tilting your head up so she can continue to paint your face. the smile never leaving and the leg still as a statue.

[helloboystimetooruntoo221b]

König who turns into the biggest baby when he’s sick.

He does have pretty bad fever - 38,4. Not as bad as it could be, but not the most optimistic picture as well. And keeping in mind König’s strong immunity and excellent health overall, this illness of his concerns you deeply, causing you to fret over your boyfriend even more than you normally would.

And of course this cheeky bastard takes full advantage of it.

König wraps himself deeper into plush covers of your shared bed, coughing a bit too often than his sore throat urges him to, sniffing his nose too loud for his actual rhinitis - and it all works. You just coo over his seemingly broken statue, placing your pleasantly cold hand onto the side of his burning up face, eyebrows scrunched up prettily in concern.

He munches on everything you give him with even greater appetite than usual - numerous fruit plates, delicious looking stews and soups, wide variety of herbal teas you brew him every hour. König may or may not whine and complain pitifully, oh so frail and too weak for doing even the most basic of thing, just so you have no other choice but spoon feed him🥺

König refuses to take his medicine unless you basically hand-feed them to him, popping a few pills into his mouth and keeping a mug with warm tea to his lips to drown the medicine down with, being extra careful to not spill it down his chin. But he’s all to pliant and willing to comply with doctor’s orders when it comes to you rubbing strong-smelling ligaments into his chest - soft fingers working sticky substance into König’s reddened skin, tucking him tightly into warm blankets afterwards and placing a kiss or two to his unnaturally warm forehead.

König does feel horrible tho - his joints and muscles ache constantly, making sitting, walking or laying down extremely uncomfortable; his nose is sore from wiping it with tissues so often, annoyingly swollen despite all the nose drops you give him, making breathing a difficult task; his throat burns with every viscous coughing fit, scratching it even further with hot air being pushed out of his lungs. But the sight of little pretty you - all worried about his wellbeing, making everything in your power to quicken his recovery - it is like a balm to König’s soul, causing him rub the bulb of thermometer one or two times to make it show slightly higher mark. Watching with thoroughly hidden delight as you shake you head, carefully putting device onto the bedside table; placing a smooch or two on the top of your lover’s head you headed out to the kitchen to treat poor thing König to some hot chocolate while he stretched in bed pleasantly, waiting for his perfect girlfriend to come back and dote on poor sick himself a little bit more <3

[helloboystimetooruntoo221b]

THE ROGUE TAX (2)

SUMMARY: Fed up with paying Astarion to pick all the locks, you force yourself to learn the hard way.

PAIRING: Astarion & Female Reader (reads as Gender Neutral but future chapters will be femme focused, just a heads up!)

WORD COUNT: 2,635

WARNINGS: Short nightmare sequence, too much sexual tension, slight mentions of a handkink, inappropriate lock pick teaching.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: I know I'm posting these super early but day two of the Haunted Hoedown! This time the prompt is "finders keepers!" I honestly had so much fun with this one, so hopefully all the new Astarion fans that've followed me in the last day enjoy? Love you guys. :))))

Also I was originally going to make all of these challenge fics separate but I've since decided to make it more of a connected fic so... that's a thing now? I'll link the last chapter below!

CHAPTER LIST / MASTERLIST / NEXT CHAPTER

-

“I wasn’t aware you were so proficient at lock picking.” 

You smirk at Astarion’s false praise, busying your hands against the lock’s mechanism. You’ve only been at it for five or six, maybe seven tops but you can already tell it’ll be a while. The lock itself is tough; covered in a layer of thick rust. Plus, being that it’s a chest and not a door, it’s a bit more advanced than you’re used to.

“Yes, well, not all of us are vampires that can woo their way through a padlock.” 

In response, Astarion laughs, throwing his head back so dramatically that from the corner of your eye, it looks as if he’s lost his head for a moment. “You do realize who you’re talking to, correct?”

You hum out a response and push the short hook further in, feeling the pressure of a loose pin hit the end. When that happens, you grin to yourself and slide closer to the chest, biting your bottom lip in excitement. 

Over the last few weeks, you and the rest of the group had come upon some interesting findings. A cave inside a well, a few hidden cellars around the surrounding the goblin camp, a hidden chest or two. At first, it was exciting, getting to experience the joys of a good treasure hunt but quickly such feelings fell once you discovered how difficult it was to break into said things without the help of Astarion and his seemingly magic hands.

“I know you’re excited to prove yourself, darling, but why don’t you let me finish things off, hm? It’ll go a lot quicker.” 

You shake your head and continue your ministrations, carefully pushing the hook further in, feeling that alleviated pressure of another pin. “I’m tired of relying on you and your bloody rogue tax.” 

After agreeing that Astarion would just pick every lock your party found for a price, it was evident he was more than willing to take more than he was owed. Saying things like I did all the work or you wouldn’t be here if not for me, it was obvious he was exploiting you. Using his roguish charms to earn himself a bigger cut despite doing next to nothing else. 

It was frustrating, to say the least. Another minor annoyance to add to his long list of negative personality traits, and lately you were determined to combat it. To learn the trade for yourself so that every piece of treasure found could remain solely yours. 

“I’m sure everyone is but that’s the price you pay for a professional.” 

You roll your eyes and continue to fiddle, feeling his gaze glued to the positioning of your hands —how your fingers tighten and twist around the metal instrument. 

You’d be lying if you said it didn’t make you at least a little bit nervous —having his eyes on you. Across your palms, you can feel the slick of sweat collecting with each new movement, while behind you, you can practically feel Astarion’s judgement throughout, silently picking apart all of your mistakes. 

“You’re doing—“

You shush him angrily before he can continue, knowing he’s trying to break your concentration. Knowing that he thinks that if he can prove to be enough of a distraction you’ll end up slipping up and giving in. 

“I was just going to tell you about the wonderful job you’re doing.” His tone is laced with sarcasm. Drenched in a thick layer of impatience that has you groaning under your breath. 

“Isn’t there someone else you can bother?”

“No.”

You know there is. In the other room of the abandoned building you currently find yourselves in, at least four other people are rooting through the rubble. Most likely they’re stationed in their usual areas. Gale’s probably next to the stack of bookshelves with Karlach, telling her all about his collection back at the camp while Wyll and Shadowheart are searching through the cellar in hopes of more wine. 

“You sure?”

For a moment you debate telling him to go keep watch with Lae’zel just so that he’ll shut up but the thought dissipates once you feel him flop onto the floor beside you with a groan. 

“Everyone else is so dull,” he complains. His line of slight flickers between your face and hands, watching the way they remain almost too still as he speaks. “They’re all do this do that, and for what?”

You shrug your shoulders ever so slightly, unsure of what he means.

“They’re all living for other people, darling. Other causes. Everything they do serves a higher purpose and for that reason alone, they’re boring.”

Despite your previous determination your hands release themselves from the padlock before you find yourself readjusting —moving to plop down next to him. “You think everyone’s boring because they’re selfless?”

“Predictable,” he corrects, pointing a loose finger in your direction. “All of them talk too much about a future that may not even come considering we’re infected and have little idea on how to remedy the situation.” 

You’re not sure where this rant is coming from but you welcome it considering it’s been weeks since you’ve had a normal conversation that didn’t revolve around mapping or looting or combat. Weeks since you’ve taken a moment to learn about the people you find yourself in constant contact with. 

“Some people just don’t like looking back.” 

There’s a hint of surprise in his eyes when you respond as if he wasn’t expecting such an answer. Or really, maybe an answer at all. All at once his face seems to rise in thought, taking a moment to absorb the words before he hums in response, pursing his lips. “Yes, well, I suppose some people don’t have a past worth running from.”

What’s that supposed to mean?

The tadpole behind your eye wriggles for his attention before you can even think to suppress it. Working to pull him in as you stare at one another, narrowing your eyes at the sudden cerebral contact. At first, he’s reluctant. You can feel the pushing sensation suggesting that you stop. That you should stick to the confines of your own mind rather than pestering him, but quicker than you can move away to agree, it’s as if you’re sucked back in again. Pulled by the very thread of your own brain matter to see flashes of a life you assume to be his.

The first thing you see is candlelight. A flickering of warm hues that dance across wooden interiors. It’s almost dizzying the way the light shifts across your vision, forcing you to close your eyes. Next to you, you can hear Astarion breathing heavily. Deep inhales followed by even deeper exhales that you swiftly use as a metronome to carry your focus. To aid your tadpole’s connection. 

Swallowing hard, you listen to the beats of his breath, feeling them take over your chest as the vision in front of you grows to reveal bits of cobblestone. In the background, you can hear the faint sounds of scuttling feet. The dripping of water. A hungry growl followed by an even hungrier gnaw of flesh that squelches on your tongue. 

You can taste the iron —feel the fur and bones of an unknown animal brush against your lips and gums. All of it swirls around your mouth like a tornado of overstimulating sensations, forcing the vision to pass as you reach for your throat, coughing up nothing but your own spit despite how real it feels. 

It’s apparent then what Astarion means. That some people aren’t always blessed with the privilege of running away. That people like him don’t have the means of calling upon allies to aid them through the awful shit that is reality. 

Even with such little context, you can sense through his tadpole that he’s alone in this life. Alone before the Illithid —alone now. And more than likely, he’ll be alone after it’s all over, in death or otherwise. 

Rubbing your throat —trying your best to get rid of the tainted feeling of skin and bone from your mouth, you feel empathy rather than sympathy. An understanding of his words as you look toward him, noticing the far-off look in his eye before he blinks and travels back.

“I only showed you that to save the explanation,” he says, and whether or not it’s true you merely just nod, welcoming the silence. The tranquil hush of two people attempting to navigate the other. 

It doesn’t last long. In between, there are a few moments of background noise. The sound of echoing footsteps and muffled voices. You know it’s the others looting just as you should be, but neither of you moves to join until Astarion eventually clears his throat, signalling change. 

“Anyway, they’re all in their own worlds, coasting on the wings of optimism.” He flicks his hand around the air while rolling his eyes. “It’s disgusting and partly why I choose your company above theirs.” 

Letting yourself fall back into your usual, somewhat antagonistic rhythm, you give him a curious look. “Partly, huh?”

“Don’t get too excited,” he quips, the edge of his lip twitching into that usual grin of his. “The other part is the potential of your blood, darling.”

“Ah yes. And here I was assuming you were just following me around so that you could steal my treasure.”

Both of your eyes move back to the unbroken padlock. It’s the only thing in this room that seems to be worth either of your time and Astarion knows it. It’s why he’s been so keen on your failure. 

“You know, I could help you if you like. Show you a thing or two so that the next time this happens you don’t have to rely on me.”

It’s tempting, even if you know that you’ll be taxed to all hell. Whatever spoils you find will ultimately be cut in half and, more than likely, he’ll sweeten the deal for himself by claiming first pick. 

“What’s the price?”

He shoots you a look of offence, clutching his chest. “My dear, I’d never dare put a price on the education of thievery.”

You hold back a grin, pressing your lips together, watching the way he quickly springs into action, motioning for you to hand him your tools. When you do he begins to explain the process, showcasing all the tips and tricks against the air with careful precision. Which would be helpful if you weren’t so focused on his hands rather than his words. On the way they curl around the handles of your tools, tightening with every gesture performed. 

Astarion’s got nicer hands than most. Long and thin and surprisingly well-manicured for someone who spends most of his time in the forest or drinking the blood of unsuspecting animals. And guiltily enough staring at them so intently just reminds you of that night he drained your neck. 

You can still feel the pressure of his fingers against your head. The way they roughly cupped you like a goblet of wine. Despite the fear in that moment, you’re now able to look back at that memory almost fondly. A moment of potential weakness for you somehow became a moment of trust for him and as a result, here you were now, acting almost friendly amid a terrible situation. 

It makes you grin, prompting Astarion to stop his explanation and narrow his eyes. 

“Are you even listening?”

“Hm?”

There’s a knowing glance that befalls his face then. A transition of clarity that has his mouth opening and closing before he hands you your tools. “Might be best if we take a more hands on approach.” 

You look at him confused, letting the hooks in your hand lazily rest in your palm as you watch him hop to his knees and begin to guide you. 

“I want you to do exactly what you were doing before, alright? Use the hook to push the pins.” 

Despite your continued confusion, you follow his position by kneeling in front of the chest and popping the hook into the hole, digging around the darkened space until you feel the shift of that first pin. 

“Got it?” You spare him a glance and a nod, watching him crawl towards you, positioning his chest firmly against your back before reaching out to hold your wrists. “Now, take that other hook of yours and situate it at the base of the barrel.”

Doing exactly that, you feel his fingers slowly slip over yours, navigating you through the trials of getting that second pin to shift as the barrel turns in your grasp. At first, it’s difficult. Mostly because all you can focus on is the breath that hits the side of your face. The heat of the air that travels down your spine in nervous waves you’re almost certain he can feel. But then you’re reminded that you’ve been here before; stuck within his heated grasp. 

“That’s it. Just like that.” 

You’re practically holding your breath as you find that third pin, feeling Astarion’s hand shift you in the right direction before you lose it at the last second. Ever so gently, his chest shifts upwards against your back so that he can rest his chin on your shoulder to get a better look. A newfound weight that makes you close your eyes and release a bit of air from your nose, realizing how intimate this is. 

Somehow it feels even more personal than letting him feed off of you. Perhaps because the bloodsucking was for his own benefit, knowing Astarion, moments like that where he’s able to take rather than give mean next to nothing to him. They’re just moments of manipulation. A series of tactical steps he takes to get whatever he wants whereas this is different. This is for you. 

You’re not sure how to describe it other than an offering of trust. Maybe it’s a token of appreciation for letting him consume. Maybe it’s nothing more than a game to make you squirm beneath his grasp. Either or, it’s an experience you know you’ll be thinking of for days to come, attempting to decipher its intent.

“Once you feel that final pin I want you to ease it in gently, alright? Be delicate.” 

You offer him no response as you listen to his words. If you did, you’re certain he’d make some offhand comment that would only further the lewdness of it all, grinning like the mischievous prick he is. 

“After that, you should feel a little shift and —voilà!” 

The chest clicks open. Your breath releases in a long, much-needed stream but Astarion makes no effort to move from your frame. Instead, he continues to cling to your hands, angling his chin so that when you eventually look at him you’re practically touching noses. 

“That’s it?”

“That’s it.”

“It’s that easy?”

Slowly but surely he slips from your frame with a nod, his hands sliding across the expanse of your sleeves, coating your skin in a wave of goosebumps as he moves to stand. “Yes, but keep it hush, hush. Wouldn’t want the others to find out, would we?”

You shake your head, a small smile creeping across your lips as you then turn towards your reward, gripping both edges of the lid before pushing it up. Inside there are only a few items. A few spell scrolls and some fabric but it’s enough to get you excited regardless, realizing that it’s yours.

“Not bad for your first go.” Peeking over your shoulder, Astarion watches as you sift through everything carefully, unrolling each scroll to read the details before looking back up and raising a brow. 

“You sure there’s no tax?” you ask, but all he does is laugh and shake his head. 

“Finders keepers, darling. As I promised.” 

[helloboystimetooruntoo221b]

A FOOLISH LOVER'S OFFERING (10)

SUMMARY: On the way to Moonrise you and Astarion talk about some important things.

PAIRING: Astarion & Female Reader

WORD COUNT: 3,060

WARNINGS: Spoilers for Act 2 (henceforth there will be spoilers in all chapters here on out), ANGST, mentions of murder.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Hi this chapter single handedly took every brain cell I had to write so hopefully you like it because I just want to set it on fire for all the grief it has caused me!!

CHAPTER LIST / MASTERLIST

-

“Gods, I hate this place.”

Gripping your torch, you try your best to focus on the Harper’s. How they move through the shadows, navigating every twist and turn without issue, leading you through the pathways.

It hasn’t been long since you’ve started your journey. No longer can you see the shining veil of the Inn but, given what you know, you’re well aware that your destination isn’t nearly ahead either. There’s still plenty of walking to do. A few hour's journey at the least. Perhaps more if Astarion insists on continuing to walk so slowly.

At your side, his eyes scan the trees with a heavy breath, taking in the decrepit scenery at such a leisurely pace that it makes you huff and glance around, noting the distance between you and the others. At this point, you’re close enough that you can still see them but too far to hear what any of them are saying —something you’re certain Astarion’s done on purpose when he plants his arm around your shoulder.

“You know, I happen to find it quite charming. All the dread and despair. It’s a bit like being at home.” 

You give him a look, raising your brow only to receive a snort in response, confirming that he’s (thankfully) kidding. “Ha, you think you’re so funny, don’t you?”

“Funny?” He moves his other hand to his chest, placing it against his leathers. “Darling, I’m hilarious.” 

“Yes, yes, a real jester.” 

His fingers flex around your shoulder, squeezing. “I’ll have you know I’ve always been funny. Even before all this vampiric bullshit.” 

“Yeah?”

He nods, a slight thought flashing across his face that makes you wonder what he’s thinking about. Given the circumstances, you assume it’s a thought of the past. Perhaps of his life before Cazador’s reign. When he was merely an elf roaming topside around Baldur’s Gate without a care in the world. You imagine he was funny back then. Mischievous. Probably a little too out there, even for a magistrate considering the personality you’ve grown to love. Based on pure assumption, he probably had more fun in one night than you in a lifetime, spending his hard-earning coin on good food and drinks and—

“It’s rude to stare, you know.” He pulls you tighter into him, using his free hand to pluck the torch out of your hand so that you can wrap yourself around him. As you do, both of you breathe a sigh of what feels like relief, even though you’re currently experiencing anything but.

“Sorry.”

“Well, you were staring at me, so I suppose I can forgive.” 

“Many thanks, my liege.” 

He growls suggestively under his breath, making you scoff. “My liege, hm, I could get behind that.” 

“Of course you could.” 

“My liege,” he repeats, tasting it on his tongue, eyeing you with a lusty gaze that doesn’t quite make its mark. 

Which only furthers the assumption that he’s deep inside his head still. Sifting through thoughts you’re completely unaware of as you walk in tandem to your potential untimely end. Almost immediately, it makes you wonder if maybe this is the right time to start asking questions. To finally speak up about the inquiries that have filed through your skull. Because after this, there’s no telling where you may find yourselves. You could be killed or locked away —lost to an abyss of some kind.

The options are endless; however, time is not, so instead of stewing in the silence you currently find yourselves in, you look up at him, taking in the shape of his face.

You’ve known him long enough now to know that the comments he often makes about his beauty are true. In appearance, he’s almost otherworldly. A beacon of well-aged flesh your eyes feel constantly drawn to. Whenever he’s around there’s this feeling of awe that comes forth. A subtle beating in your chest that quickens each time he’s present. When you look at him —really look at him— your eyes tend to open a little wider, surprised by how every feature seems to fit so perfectly in place. How everything feels uncharacteristically cohesive given his time spent abused beneath the moon, forced to stave and serve for all eternity. 

If it weren’t for the issue of Cazador you’d be convinced he was blessed by the Gods themselves. Melded by their very hands to create a being of such high temptation and desire. You imagine them brainstorming his existence. Tirelessly spending weeks on end crafting the perfect specimen that would ultimately end up broken. 

You realize then, taking in the lines that have developed throughout countless bouts of false grinning, that the very thing he loves most about himself was more than likely the result of his own downfall.

A downfall you find you’re still curious about. Even after your conversation, Astarion’s life before all this still holds an air of mystery. Between details already revealed, there are still patches of missing information. Sections of time where assumptions feel wrong but asking feels just as bad. And because of that, deep down, you know you should leave the curiosity alone. Pack it into the back of your mind for later use, but with the oncoming war and no determined outcome, you instead loosen your hold and take a side step. 

“Can I ask you something?”

He narrows his eyes, readjusting his position now that you’re not locked against him, suddenly looking awkward as he puffs out his chest. “Depends.” 

“On?”

“Whether or not the question is going to be depressing,” he replies. “Because you have that look in your eye.”

“What look?”

He reaches out to poke your forehead, pressing it roughly. “The one where your brows look like they’re going to become one at a moment’s notice.”

Swatting his hand away, you twitch your brows back into their proper positioning, annoyed. “I was going to ask about Cazador,” you tell him, truthfully. “I know he’s probably not a topic you want to discuss as we waltz to our potential doom but —I don’t know— I just have questions.” 

He sighs deeply, drawing out his breath before giving you an unimpressed look that speaks volumes.

He doesn’t want to talk about it. Nor do you, but at the same time, you’re at the point where you’re unable to deny your interest because Astarion’s your friend. A companion you cherish more than you know you should. A person whose well-being is so important you’d virtually do anything to maintain it. Which is why you’re determined to pry a bit more than usual. Taking these final moments you have to yourself to ask the one question you’ve been wondering for ages. 

“What will you do about him? When this is all over.”

Surprisingly, there’s no hesitation in his words when he tells you he’ll kill him. As you continue along the path, listening to him come up with all the vile ways he’d do it, you find yourself strangely calm. Numb almost to the descriptions of stakes being driven into hearts or knives slicing through jugular veins. Lost in the way he throws your torch around with every passing phrase.

“Personally, I think a stake to the heart’s a bit cheap,” you eventually comment, watching him laugh. Hearing the way the sound quickly flutters out and hits your ears, making you smile despite the subject matter. 

“It’s a classic for a reason, my dear.” 

“Is it though? I mean, in my experience there’s far better ways to kill someone.”

“Is there, now? Do tell.” 

You’re not sure if it’s just because you’ve grown used to the excessive violence throughout your journey or because Astarion’s tendencies have potentially rubbed off on you. Either way, as the two of you joke of his master’s demise you find yourself wondering if maybe such a result is even plausible. Sure, you’ve never killed a vampire. Hell, before Astarion you’re not even sure you’ve seen one up close, but for him, you’d be willing to try. Especially given the ever-growing lack of regard for your own safety.

“Honestly, the only thing that’s coming to mind is cutting him open and doing something to his innards.” 

His brows shoot up in surprise, making you laugh. “Mm, a cold-blooded killer after my own heart.”

You roll your eyes, prompting his hand to subtly grip your own. Tangling your fingers together, he raises your palm carefully up to his lips and places a lingering kiss. One that tickles your flesh long after he’s gone, leaving you grinning like a fool, wondering if this is what love feels like. 

You imagine it is. Deep beneath the surface, your chest is tight but not with fear. Instead, there’s only warmth that spreads —a growing sensation of heat that wraps around your lungs and heart. Filling you with this discomforting ache that only he can alleviate. So much so that it makes you want to scream sometimes, knowing he’s the cause. That somehow through his charms and tricks he’s managed to find a home inside your chest without permission. How he’s sliced you open with that wicked grin and crawled inside, calling you darling all the while. 

It makes you wonder if he feels the same. If all the afflictions he’s given you are returned in some capacity. If when you look at him his mouth goes dry or his heart skips a beat. Or the longing to be near is indeed reciprocated and not just another plot to keep you close.

Because sometimes it’s hard to tell. 

Throughout your journey, you’ve gone back and forth a hundred times, debating the possibilities —weighing the pros and cons of every interaction that you’ve ever had. Even now, knowing such trivial thoughts should be the last thing on your mind, you can’t help but wonder: does he care for you? Truly? Does he think of you? Does he look for you? Within his everyday thoughts does your presence linger in the background, waiting for the right moment to be put on full display for him to admire?

Does he love you?

“You know, if you ever need help with the whole murdering Cazador thing…”

It sounds ridiculous when you say it. So nonchalant and unfazed. Even you have to cringe at the way you trail off, waiting for him to speak. Praying that he’ll laugh or scoff or say literally anything to fill the silence you find yourselves walking through. 

It takes him a while but eventually, you hear him quietly sigh, his gaze moving to view your nervous face. “It won’t be easy, you know. Cazador isn’t some vagabond with a blade, he’s—“

“I know.”

“No, you don’t.”

He says it like a warning. As if he’s preparing to scold you for speaking out of term, narrowing his eyes with a huff. “Darling, I appreciate the enthusiasm but Cazador —he’s different. He’s not like the villains we’ve faced thus far. He isn’t motivated by greed or lust. The only thing he wants is power. Power over me —over you.” 

He pauses then, swallowing hard. Making it apparent then that this hypothetical conversation of murderous jokes has turned into something far more real. That your offering is no longer a mere gesture of kindness but instead a potential act of solidarity. One that you extend further by running your thumb along his, applying a bit of pressure at the joint, feeling him twitch. 

“You know there’s very little I wouldn’t do for you, right?” 

In an instant his eyes are on you, staring in surprise, trying to process the words that’ve just spilled through your lips. At first, they’re focused on their position, fully immersed in the way you clear your throat, trying to suppress a nervous laugh as you continue to grip his hand. Not long after though, they start to go distant, moving past your face to view the trees behind you, fizzling out of reality so quick that all you can do is try to pull him back. 

“I know you probably think I’m in idiot for even suggesting that fact that I may be capable of killing someone who spent centuries in control of so many people—“

“A bit, yes.” 

You snort, watching him slowly start to return to you, his lips curling into a half smile you can’t help but reach out and touch, stopping your stride. “But I would do anything you asked of me. Even if it meant death, I would kill that bastard for you without hesitation. Whatever way you wanted, whether it’s decapitation or throwing him off a bloody cliff or—“

The light of the torch shifts as his hand slips out of yours, taking hold of your head to guide you to his lips. To press his mouth to yours with such need that the breath within your lungs is ripped out. Swallowed behind his starving tongue —lapping whatever life you have to offer as his hand drifts over your cheek, taking hold of your flesh to keep you from leaving.

Standing still, you can feel the tenseness of his frame as it all happens. How aside from his mouth and hand the rest of him refuses to move, prompting you to reach out, running your hands along his sides, coaxing him to relax. 

When his body does, you slowly pull away, sucking in air like your life depends on it, watching with half-lidded eyes and swollen lips as he opens his mouth to speak, stuttering out something incoherent before swearing under his breath. 

Narrowing your eyes further, you watch him struggle to speak, wondering what could be going on in that complicated brain of his as he turns his body, releasing you from his grasp in favour of moving forward again.

Immediately, it makes you drop your jaw in annoyance, watching his hands move towards his hair, gripping his locks in frustration as you hear him mutter to himself and continue to move, leaving you behind. 

“Hold on, you’re just going to kiss me like that and walk away?” 

He doesn’t even turn to acknowledge you as you yell, making you even angrier as you race toward him, placing a rough hand against his shoulder to gain his attention. 

“Astarion—“

“Do you mean it?”

Your mouth twitches when he turns, looking at you with angry eyes. Scanning you with knitted brows filled with so much frustration all you can do is breathe and nod.

“Why?”

Because I love you. 

“Because…”

“Tell me.”

Your mouth is drier than it’s ever been, making it hard for you to form the words as you feel your tongue poke out to wet your lips. “I—“

His shoulder shifts from your grasp in one quick motion, leaving you bare —untethered and weak against the aggression of his eyes staring you down. “You know, I’ve spent centuries coming up with all the ways I’d do it. How I’d kill him if given the chance.”

You watch his gaze move to the trees again, travelling elsewhere even though you’re here, standing still in front of him, already wondering how you'll get him back.

“Despite the scenarios being nothing but my foolish imagination running rampant, every time I end up suffering. Forced further into madness —pushed to the brink of what my body is capable of handling.” He shakes his head before raising it, blinking back tears that make your body ache. “Even in my wildest dreams I cannot win against his torment and yet… the moment you mention it… the moment you look at me with those eyes—” 

Hearing him choke back a nervous laugh, this time it’s you who’s on him, clutching his face with both hands, pressing your thumbs to the inner corners of his eyes to wipe away the liquid that continues to pool.

“Why are you so willing to help me do the unimaginable?”

This time there’s no hesitation. No moment of thought that graces your mind as you smile up at him, pulling him further down with shaking hands to press your forehead to his. “It’s because I love you,” you tell him then. Barely above a whisper, you let it filter out like smoke, allowing it to envelop him entirely as you breathe and take him in, watching the way his lips unfurl and the anger laced within his features slips away. “And because the thought of allowing him to live after what he did to you fills me with a kind of rage I’m not sure I’ve ever felt before.”

His hand moves to stroke the side of your neck. Gently, his fingers run across the bite marks he's inflicted, marking their positions with two subtle taps before they glide away, rooting themselves at the back of your head for support. Forcing you to remain in the moment, realizing what you’ve just said.

It’s hardly the right time to admit your feelings. But then again, given the circumstances, you quickly remember that there really isn’t one. Considering you're in the middle of a war, on your way to Ketheric’s base, it’s very unlikely you’ll have a spare moment to clear your mind and properly say all the things you’ve been itching to say. 

Until the end, it’ll always feel like something’s missing —like you’ve forgotten an important phrase or detail. That whatever you say will never be enough to fully convey the weight of how he makes you feel each time he looks you up and down or makes you laugh. 

Even as you stand before him now, holding him tight —watching the tears within his eyes threaten to spill once again, you know nothing you say will ever amount to the ache inside your chest, knowing that you’ve managed to give him the last sliver of hope you have to offer. 

“I love you, Astarion,” you repeat then, praying this time it holds its weight. That the nervous rush inside your stomach passes through and all you’re left with is the kind of warmth you’ve only read about in stories.

His jaw is slack as you repeat your confession, shifting in a way that makes you more nervous than it should, watching him blink and hearing him breathe —doing everything but speak the words you want to hear as Shadowheart calls your name, pulling you both away to notice the annoyed look on her face as she tells you to hurry up. 

-

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[helloboystimetooruntoo221b]

— drunk genshin boys

including heizou, alhaitham, scaramouche, kaveh, pantalone, childe, diluc, cyno x gn! reader

꒰ genre ꒱ — fluff & crack, idk what this is but very cute

drunk! heizou who gets tremendously clingy with you— he doesn‘t have anything but embracing and snuggling up to you in mind. from the beginning, before anything else, you have to help him get to bed, he can barely walk in a straight line and you wonder who he was sharing his drinks with— might be kazuha for all you know. "you‘re so good to me." he slurrs his words, eyes lowered and almost closed but keeping them open, heizou tries to because he can’t keep his eyes off you— even when drunk out of his mind, then the sweet man reaches his arms out for you, "come here come here." it’s a combination of a pitchy whine and a pout displayed before you and archons, how can someone be this adorable without even trying hard? you wonder but ultimately smile at your boyfriend, drawing a fuzzy blanket over his body before leaning into his chest.

drunk! alhaitham who fights with himself, more or less— he can hardly stand. you see, your boyfriend knows he‘s drunk and now he‘s forcing himself to sober up with nothing but pure, strong willpower and a good spirit at hand, but beware, he knows it‘s not possible but he tries to tell himself to sober up regardless, even when aware that that‘s not how it works in the general rule of booze. "i have almost conquered myself." he announces proudly while leaning against your shoulder, his soft hair ruffled and ticking your cheek. "yeah yeah." you playfully roll your eyes, placing your hand on top of his thigh while petting the clothed skin. it‘s when he places his palm on top of your hand to catch you in his embrace before you can notice the faint, soundly snoring sounds of your boyfriend succumbing to a deep slumber against you.

drunk! scaramouche who, much to your own surprise, tends to indicate a few kisses, cuddles and silently thanks you for taking care of him— it‘s especially surprising since this never happens when he‘s not under the influence of alcohol. truthfully, he didn‘t think he was even capable to get drunk and tried a bunch of different beverages around sumeru city. what he didn‘t know was that, alcohol can become a little tricky, especially when it hits you somewhat delayed. you were quick to notice his cheeks changing their color until his entire face was covered in red— the small pants from his parted lips and his larger pupils only proving your point. "nuisance." kuni curses, planting his arm over your shoulder as he makes you stop for a second, keeping your movements to a stand still. "kiss." he leans closer, no words following, ultimately failing to hit your lips and bumping in your nose instead— at this point you’re dying of laughter, you had even attempted to fight your giggles but how could that even be an option when he‘s like that? yet to the best part, you show him how it‘s done and properly melt your lips on his.

drunk! kaveh who— and such fact is known throughout all of sumeru, was a lightweight on the inside, but sometimes had the need to pretend to actually be able to hold his drinks in. you on the other hand knew your boyfriend and his tendencies to drink a little bit too much whenever he‘s meeting up with his friends for a round of tcg or anything really— most of the time it does consist of gossiping. considering this, you always await him late at night, knowing full on well that he‘s going to have a hard time getting out of his shoes or, frankly, find the way to his bedroom. "i‘m not- not drunk!" he proclaims with a pitched, half broken tone, raising his pointer finger in the air, "drunk not i not!" and stammers before dropping into his bed face first. you welcome him with a smile, "you sure aren‘t." and amusingly shake your head but not before placing a bucket next to the bed for— well, who knows what you both will face this entire night.

drunk! pantalone who loves to drink a few glasses of red wine— reveling in the massive flavor of different nuances the beverage had in store after a long day of working himself to frenzied tiredness. believe it or not but he knows the limits of his body quite well, yet even he can overindulge in it from time to time. in which case would he make himself overly noticable the moment he stumbles home. it‘s louder than usual and you wonder if he actually tripped over and fell carelessly or ran against the door. but the man finds you at last as he always did, you long since ready for bed before dropping right next to you, still fully clothed in a perfectly fitted garment and his glasses messily shoved up, "i may have had too many drinks tonight." he admits against his own volition, rubbing his head and the tiny red spot emerging on his forehead— he really did hit the door, "and you may need to help me out of my clothes."

drunk! childe who doesn‘t consider a party being a real event without him in it— surprinsingly was the eleventh harbinger good with keeping his booze in, it‘s rarely for him to get real, drop dead drunk, but when he does— oh boy, you can be sure he won‘t stop talking to you the entire night. "have i told you about that time i dropped a whale on an entire army?" brazen words after arrogant notions, ajax cuddles himself against your back to try to turn you towards him, after all, he thinks you weren‘t listening with your body being turned away like that. after a deep-rooted yawn, you pull yourself to the left to face him, "you did." and cradle his cheek, "you did at last three times this past hour."

drunk! diluc who, much to his own embarrassment, needs to be taken care of. the man loathes alcohol to his very core, but even he needs to occasionally drink a couple glasses with important partners who he had been collaborating and working with. "i can‘t feel my legs." he almost whines at the loss of his senses, numb and tired as you repeatedly dapped a cold washcloth on his forehead while he was continuously pinching his biceps, "that‘s your arm baby." your expression softened slightly as you carried on to clean him up. as it was time to turn in for the night, you felt diluc‘s intense, warm presence closer than on any other day before, "please don‘t leave." his words find your ears with such ease, like a piece of his own soul, a bright, hopeful voice, full of hope but webbed in bristling fear, "i won‘t."

drunk! cyno who— and this really doesn‘t surprise you at this point in time, pompously shows off all his aquired and bundled up jokes, you had, in the beginning of your relationship, thought that what if he would genuinely turn out to be legitimately hilarious when in such wobbly state. "a tighnari and cyno walk into a bar." he pulls his mask off and places it on a drawer that, and don‘t ever tell him that, but there isn‘t a drawer there, he‘s just imagining things, "knock knock, *hiccup* who‘s there?" cyno quickly stops himself as you pick up the mask and put it on a real drawer, sliding into the warm bedsheets beside him afterwards, "wait, that‘s not how the joke goes." the man wrinkles his nose in thought, blinking rapidly while looking at you through puppy eyes, as if you had an actual idea on what he‘s talking about.

©2023 anantaru do not repost, copy, translate, modify

[helloboystimetooruntoo221b]

— biting them affectionately

including alhaitham, kaveh, scaramouche, heizou, tighnari, albedo, kazuha, cyno x gn! reader

꒰ genre ꒱ — fluff, crack, this is so random

alhaitham, who will be at loss of words at first— while, keep in mind, it wasn't easy to get the scribe speechless like that, regardless of how he was never bitten in his life. however, he told himself to never question whenever you'd do anything like that, so for one, he'd simply look at you confused and irritated, before asking you with a stern and stoic blush on his cheeks, "why?" it's not like he doesn't know, but for some reason did he find it quite amusing whenever you'd explain yourself over such little, hilarious things. but, when you decide to bite him again, without answering, he'd just ignore you and keep reading his book.

one might think kaveh will act slightly different than alhaitham, but he's equally confused yet the moment you bite him he'd let out a yell, animalistic, one overly dramatic scream of fake pain, channeling his vocal chords to their fullest extent. "what was that for?!" he whines, rubbing the pulsing red spot on his shoulder, "i just love you." you smile and now, again, he finds himself seeing you as the most adorable thing to ever exist. discernibly did you sense your precious chance of biting him many more times, only faintly, but strong enough to have your boyfriend whine and airily laugh before engaging in a playful fight with you.

if you think scaramouche won't bite you back, you're one naive and wide-eyed individual. this man also doesn't hold back, he'll give it his all to win what you have started. don't be upset when he starts biting you heavier than you do, he sees it as a serious showdown now. "don't go running off now." you're not admitting defeat yet, he fears, but you will, he's sure of it. by now, he has you caged in between his arms while a breezing pain in your belly began to expel, from all the sweet and heavy laughing and cheering. whether or not you will win was long since in the back of your head, what counted was seeing kuni engage in something silly for once, and having a great time at that.

heizou's quick and precise thinking skills were deeply needed in the predicament you both found yourself in. one minute you were lazily cuddling and kissing under the silken sheets before you decided to bite him out of nowhere, not hard, but impressionable. specifically against his neck where he was the most sensitive, "augh." he growls before looking at you, somewhat intrigued, "that came out of nowhere." he huffs, and in some strange way was he already beginning to plan his bloody revenge on you, pulling you on your back before dragging your hands over your head, so you're out of commission, so it's him who can decide where to give you a taste of your own medicine.

at the outset, tighnari thought a random bug bit him out of nowhere, he couldn't even fathom that it was you biting him out of the blue. "wait." he stops the work on his desk, tilting his head to the side where you were comfortably seated in, eagerly, awaiting a response, "was that you?" you can feel the sass in his full sentence as it spread through the seconds of silence before your answer goes right through, "nope." someone must give you an award for keeping your laugh in like that, especially when it was burning and bristling inwardly, "a bug." you shrug, "no, it's you." assuming you're playing mind tricks, he catches the smirk on your lips, "dangerous territory." he coos, the bite mark on his shoulder matches your teeth and thanks to closer inspection he confirms his suspicions. well, good luck to you.

it's not out of the ordinary for albedo to question something insignificant and random a little too deep. "how interesting." he rests his chin against his palm, "is this considered normal amongst humans?" a glittering, infectious smile pulls itself around your lips when he quizzes you on it, over and over, and you settle to do it again without responding, shortly gnawing down on his shoulder, "for me it is." while ruffling his hair until it was practically falling out of the small ponytail, "i see." albedo drags you closer, "should i return it?" by the look of things, this might become a daily occurrence now.

"oh?" kazuha brushes over his arm, holding eye contact, "you're strong." and feigns the heavy proudness in his voice. in actuality, he barely felt your teeth dig into his flesh, but he found the noises you made beyond cute, kind of high pitched within its hilarity. all and all, was this just one of the many things he fell in love with when it came to you and his face lights up in delight and interest when he notices the transparent joy on your lips. there's an almost imperceptible happiness across his entire skin, sparking at the outline of his jaw and littering in his eyes, "now." he slants forward, getting his point across, "my turn!"

quite frankly, did your boyfriend cyno get the impression that you were actually mad at him at first, alas why you decided to bite his cheek right after hugging him, that's the hypothesis of the day. turns out you weren't, shocker, but he rubs the squishy flesh before questioning it— with you, naturally responding right away, "it's because i love you." you assure him, "so you can see it as an act of love." and jokingly bite him again, this time slightly lighter and only a bit, emphasizing your point. after carefully thinking about it more upfront, cyno finds himself enjoying it and doesn't mind when you bite him as much as you see fit, as long as you're happy that is.

©2023 anantaru do not repost, copy, translate, modify

[helloboystimetooruntoo221b]

part of what made across the spiderverse so perfect was that it was largely centered on WHO spider-man is, in EVERY universe. not just Miles, or Peter, or Gwen, or Miguel. Spider-Man. it was about the ESSENCE of Spider-man. Spider-Man is love for humanity. Spider-Man is having to sacrifice and lose everything you love for the mask. Spider-Man is rebellion against the powers that be. Spider-Man is about trying to do both, in every universe. about not taking no for an answer or listening when everyone tells you your destiny. refusing to choose between the things and people you love. that’s why Spider-Man is so compelling: they want everything, even though everyone else tells them they can’t have it. that it’s not meant to be. and they just. keep. trying. keep getting back up. they just keep going, man.

[helloboystimetooruntoo221b]

- one in the same -

pairing: tasm!peter parker x gn!reader

word count: 3.2k

content: nwh spoiler free, reader doesn't know peter is spiderman, jealous peter on the low, swearing, reader has panic attack, reader falls, bitches are so ATTRACTED to each other damn, no angst (kinda), im rusty at writing im sorry

summary: spiderman visits you everyday and listens to you talk about your massive crush on an unnamed boy, completely oblivious to the fact he and the boy are one in the same.

a/n: yes I'm jumping on this bandwagon I did what needed to be done. jk im just happy I have an andrew character besides remus to write for now since you couldn't pay me to write eduardo ff ok bye AND THANKS TO USER @aksuallyours FOR HELPING SM WITH THIs

Peter's gloved finger hovered for a moment over your window. It happened every night, his finger would grow tense, his heart would begin to pound in his throat. The time between him raising his finger and finally bringing it down to tap on the glass stretched eternities until eventually, the bubbling in his chest would overflow, and in a burst of energy… it would land swift and sharp on your window.

Once. Twice. Three times.

The window was opening and the warm air was hitting his face faster than it took him to build up the courage to wake you.

Grinning and obviously tired, there you were. Hair slightly messy, light haloing your body, you whispered, “Hi.”

He was thankful for the mask.

“Hi,” he replied breathily, “what's up with you?”

And thus started your usual routine. You, of course, would respond with, “Do you actually want to know or are you just asking to ask?”

And then would come his response, usually some form of “I actually want to know” or “What do you think?” Sometimes, he would even just sit there in silence, waiting for you to start your rambling.

You’re the only person he could really do this with. It was never dull, never once did he wish he was somewhere else, even the repeated topics felt new each time.

He hung on every word you said, every syllable you uttered. Every thought was woven together like an intricate dance and the more time he spent up here with you, the more he memorized.

The way your hands would begin to fidget when you talked about school, or how you would begin pacing as you talked about your newest obsession, or how your eyes would glow whenever you talked about the boy.

The boy. The boy that your life honestly revolved around. You never mentioned him by name, you of course knew that the “Spider-man” was in high school, so he was just referred to as The Boy. The Boy that goes to your school. The Boy in your chem class. The Boy that your eyes are locked on from the first bell to the last. You rarely even talked about the things he did. You were very careful about that. But despite all of your precautions, you never shut up about him.

Today, after about a 15 minute debrief of the last movie you watched, the topic turned to The Boy.

“This last week… Spidey I don't think I can begin to describe it to you. Somebody put something in his water, he was so attractive. There is something in this boy's veins. He is like,,, unreal,” you put your head in your hands, “I just like… don't even know how to go about my feelings for him. Every time I talk to him it feels like I’ve literally gone into a dream. As fucking corny as it sounds it’s literally surreal.”

A silence hung in the room.

“I think I’m in love with him.”

This is the first time you’ve ever said anything this bold, that huge. You had spent hours gushing to him about this boy but he had managed to let it wash off of him. Let himself imagine that you were talking about him, that you wanted him. The knot in Peter's chest grew so tight, he thought it would snap.

You were his best friend. He was sure he was in love with you. But here you were, in front of him, fully confessing your love for somebody else.

“I just get this almost static feeling through my whole body when I look at him or when I talk to him. I think if I don’t do something, I’ll implode or some shit. Plus, to put it bluntly, hes is so hot there is no way he’s not gonna get swept up by some other person.”

You mirrored all of his feelings for you.

Quietly, he said, “You should do something then.”

“WOW!” your tone changed fast. “I never thought of that. That is such great advice. Wow, I’m so happy that we have a genius like you running the city. We are so lucky.”

Peter was thankful for the change of mood as he gently swatted at you from his place on the window sill.

Through giggles, while desperately still trying to change his voice enough, he replied, “Literally what else was I supposed to say?”

You flopped, back first, onto your bed and sighed, “I don’t know. I just know I want him”

He wished his suit had some sort of image capturing software.

Light cascaded gently down your face, illuminating each dip and curve. It framed the bridge of your nose, wound its way around the curve of your lips, reflected off of your open eyes. Your chest softly rose and fell, bare skin brushed by the faint glow, body finally relaxing. An expression had fallen onto your face, almost… longing. You laid before him, blanketed in light, almost heavenly. Every curve and edge and line he wanted, he needed. It was unbearable.

He longed for his camera. A chance to capture this image. Anything at all. He would’ve literally taken fucking crayons and drawn it if he could.

But he just sat there, until he couldn’t do it anymore.

“Y/n?” he said, waking you from your thoughts. “I’ve gotta go.” Every inch of his body rejected the thought of leaving, but he knew his self-control wasn’t strong enough. The beating in his heart had begun to grow stronger.

“When will you be back?” you asked, raising yourself up to your elbows.

“Soon I hope.”

Humming in response, you flashed him a grin, and then he was gone.

“Peter! Hi, hi, hi, hi!” Your voice snapped him from his homework as you sat down on the ground next to him, slinging your backpack off.

“Hi,” he smiled at you, “I got food by the way.” Unzipping his backpack, he pulled out two boxes of takeout. He skipped 4th period so he thought he would swing by and grab you food, his treat.

“You are a God-send. I owe you my… left arm or something,” you said gratefully, snatching the box.

Digging into his own food, he replied, “Thought it would make up for the movie tickets you bought.”

You scoffed, “Nothing could make up for those movie tickets. I spent $10 dollars so you could have the best movie experience of your life and you think buying me take-out can equal that?”

“Ut wus not tat g-od”

“I don’t listen to the opinion of people that talk with their mouth full,” you deadpanned, dramatically putting your hand up and turning away. Peter finished his bite and smiled to himself a bit.

Sun was perfectly filtering through the trees and a slight breeze shifted through the air, rippling your shirt gently. Lunches were more bearable with you. Sitting on the courtyard ground, sharing food, listening to music. A lot of the time it would just end up like this, quiet but comfortable, shoulders inches apart, breathing practically synced.

After a bit of silence, you spoke up, “Ok so. I got invited to some birthday party thing on Friday and I literally know like… nobody. But I wanna go. But fuck that. So you know, do you uh wanna go with me? I cannot go alone. I just can’t.”

A bubbling rose in Peter’s heart. “Of course, I’ll go. Nobody invites me to that kinda shit anyways.”

You and Peter found yourselves in some random corner on the top floor of the house, music streaming through the floor. Your body was faintly dancing and you were intently listening to Peter ramble on about this idea he had for a set of pictures.

The party had been generally boring. It was clear that neither of you were really feeling it in the slightest and so the two of you made your way away from the crowd of people downstairs to the second floor. It was nice, peaceful.

Dim light had settled over the two of you. Your face was lit by the faint glow and Peter was painfully reminded of you lying on your bed the other night.

The light bounced and framed your features in the same way. The light made Peter feel the same way he did that night. Uncontrollable.

“Peter?” you questioned, snapping him out of his revorie, “You were saying?”

“Oh, yeah I um think that-” but before he could finish his sentence, the entire house began to shake.

Shock traveled up Peter's spine, electrifying his bones in a sort of panic. His eyes darted to the shaking chandelier and adrenaline began to course to his head.

You grabbed his arm.

The shake was deep. Too strong to be a natural occurrence. Peter could tell.

Picture frames began shaking off the wall and he could hear glass breaking below him. Screaming. Peter could hear a lot of screaming, too.

“Y/n, go downstairs. I need you to go downstairs.” The underlying desperation he had seeped through into his tone. “Go.”

Hesitantly, you removed your hand from his bicep and looked at him with the strangest expression.

“And you?”

“Just go.”

Debri began to fall from the ceiling as you rushed down the hall, trying desperately to keep balanced. He kept his eyes fixed on you for as long as he could before the lights went out, washing Peter in darkness. He just had to trust that you would make it down.

Slipping into a random room, using shaking hands he pulled off his jacket and his pants off to reveal the blue and red pattern of his suit. He discarded his clothes and slipped on his mask.

More and more of the house was becoming destroyed. When he stepped out from his cover the walls that had once been protecting you and Peter had been half disintegrated. His head spun, dizziness and vertigo blinding him briefly as he looked down.

Standing below him, washed in the twilight, was The Lizard.

Rubble surrounded it’s scaled feet. It’s usual smirk was plastered on its face.

The front half of the house had been practically reduced to dust. Clumps of people cowered in corners and he could see many of them had managed to run off, sprinting down the unlit streets. Neighbors had stepped outside to see what was going on. Kids were on the phone with their parents. People were crying, people were frozen in fear.

Latching onto a surviving pillar, Peter swung himself over the crowd.

“Spiderman,” the low and droning voice of the Lizard boomed throughout the street, “Happy to see you here.”

“You won't be too happy for long.”

The crowd shrieked in unison as The Lizard’s clawed hand shot out to swipe at Peter. Peter’s quick reflexes saved him, just narrowly avoiding the cut by swinging away.

At this point, these fights were formulaic to Peter. Adrenaline would course through his veins and his vision barely had time to keep up with his actions, but most of the time it consisted of the same thing. He had gotten good at this. He flew over the crowd, dodged and weaved away from The Lizard, landed a few hits, same as usual. The claws caught him a couple times, but he was moving too fast for the pain to catch him.

That wasn’t to say it wasn’t tiring though. His powers gave him more endurance but it wasn’t endless.

He fought for a long time.

He could feel the fatigue creeping up his body as he swung around what was left of the house. His reflexes were taking longer, his punches less accurate. If it didn’t stop soon, he was afraid his body would completely give out.

The Lizard had been fighting well, better than last time. Peter eyed its hands as they reached down and locked around a large piece of debri. He knew what was coming next. As the lizard picked it up, Peter readied his web shooters, praying he would have enough strength to stop the debri from causing more destruction.

But just as the Lizard raised his arm and readied to throw the piece, it paused. Its eyes widened slightly, darting around rapidly.

Peter soon understood the reason behind the pause and it came in the form of sirens.

About fucking time.

His eyes left The Lizard to search for the blue and red lights that were bound to be in the distance, and there they were, winding down the road.

When Peter returned his eyes to the Lizard, it was gone.

He finally let himself survey the scene around him. Part of the house was still standing. It looked sort of like a dollhouse. All rooms exposed, one wall missing from each, the moon the only light source. Many of the people that had been there before the fight had run off, understandably so, and the people that remained stayed in little huddles consoling each other.

Police cars had pulled up to the house, sirens still blasting. The red and blue light that shone from the cars washed everybody in an almost unreal filter, illuminating the damage done. The scene before him was grim but a sigh of relief pushed from his lips at the general safety of everybody.

Peter quickly moved into a shadow and prayed that the dirt and dust that covered his suit from the fight would give him enough camouflage so he could finally let his mind turn to what he had been dying to focus on. You.

His eyes scanned the crowd desperately, searching for a glimpse of you. Just a sign that you were ok, that you made it down safely, that you hadn’t been hurt. The longer he looked, the more panicked he became.

It wasn’t until he let his eyes roam up, that he saw you.

You were on the second floor, the only one there. Frantically, you were walking around, being careful as to where you were stepping. He could see your chest rising and falling at a dangerous speed. But you weren’t walking to try and find a spot to get down, he realized after watching you long enough.

You were looking for something.

Your head was darting around, eyes scanning each room and the crowd below you. You were saying something, shouting a name, but the sirens were far too loud for him to hear.

He needed to get you down. Cursing the police for making him stay hidden, he began to search for some sort of ladder, anything he could use. Peter considered going to find clothes to put over the suit and then get you down in a normal, human way. Maybe there was enough going on that he could still do it as spiderman. Maybe, he doesnt care and will decide to just run from the police once you’re safe, he's done it before.

A crash drew Peter from his thoughts.

He knew you were falling before he saw it.

He knew it was the floor you were on. He knew you were the only person on the higher level.

Peter’s vision tunneled, he didn’t see the people he was shoving to the side, he didn’t hear the yelps and crashes as they fell into the rubble, and he probably wouldn’t have cared if he did. All of his thoughts were focused on the fall. He had never moved so fast in his life.

He had no clue how long it would take you to hit the ground. He didn’t want to know.

Webs shot out of his wrists and lodged themselves to the door. You had to be falling into this room. You had to. Pulling on the web, the door ripped off its hinges and Peter instantly shot another web to the furthest part of the ceiling of the room.

Clinging to this, he swung himself into the room, and before he could even visually register it, you were in his arms.

Pulsing adrenalin and the most extreme relief Peter had felt in ages rushed through his body, still blocking out any sound.

You were in his arms. You were safe. You were alive.

But as he looked longer he realized you were yelling. Still frantic. Tears left lines in the ash that had fallen on your face.

Finally, his hearing allowed him to understand what you were saying.

“He’s here. And. I can’t, I can’t find him. I can’t find him.” Your breathing was frenzied. You could barely get cohesive sentences out.

“Who's here?” Peter asked, carefully resting his hands on your shaking shoulders.

“The Boy. He’s here. But he’s gone. He’s gone. I don’t know what to do. I need you – To help.”

The boy was here. That’s who you had been looking for. But now he was nowhere to be found.

It took everything in him to put aside his own biases. It wasn’t about him. It wasn’t about the boy. It was about you.

“Y/n, what’s his name?”

You were too panicked, your breaths were getting shallower, your body getting shakier. “I need to find him. I can’t go on without him –He’s gone– He’s gone and I need him.” You couldn’t register what he was asking.

“Y/n. I need to know his name.” He was louder this time, more forceful. He gripped your arms stronger.

You couldn’t even look at him, your eyes were darting rapidly around the room. Tears coated your face and hysterical sobs were falling from your lips.

“Y/n,” he was begging now, shaking you, “What’s his fucking name??”

You took a huge gulp of air.

“PETER PARKER. His name is Peter Parker and I can’t fucking find him anywhere.”

Peter’s arms went slack.

His eyes left your face for the first time since he caught you and he stared at the destroyed room the two of you were standing in the middle of. Rubble lined both your and Peter’s feet. The dust had fallen onto your hair. It was just the two of you.

Peter Parker was the boy. He was Peter Parker. He was the boy. The boy you had gushed over for months to him almost every night.

His shaking hand found the neck of his suit, and as carefully as he could, he pulled off his mask.

Your confused expression got even deeper as your eyes darted across his face, taking him in.

“No.” you shook your head. “No. Fuck this. No you’re fucking with me.” You pushed against his chest, “I don’t— you can’t be.”

Cheeks flushing and skin still burning from your touch, Peter blurted the first thing that came into his mind as he looked at you.

“I love you.”

Your jaw slacked.

“I need you to know. I can’t hide how much I want you any longer. And I know that after all of this you probably don’t feel the same way but-”

“Shut up.” And your lips were on his.

Without a thought, Peter kissed you back. Slowly, you drank each other up, molding to one another, hands roaming, bodies crushed together. It was a release.

Your fingers tangled themselves in his hair, his lips grazed your jaw. Peter’s hands pulled you closer to him, unable to bear the thought of not being able to hold you.

His body ached for you.

His heart pounded in his chest. It pushed against his ribcage rhythmically, so powerful a bone might snap. He was sure you could feel it; he hoped you did. You needed to feel how his heart beat for you. How his body reacted to you.

He needed to prove it to you. He needed you to understand the effect you had on him.

You needed to believe that he loved you. Because he did.

[helloboystimetooruntoo221b]

GENSHIN MEN & THEM HAVING A CRUSH ON YOU .

characters. xiao zhongli kaeya diluc childe alhaitham kaveh x reader genre. romantic fluff kind of! also kind of suggestive, based on how you look at it an. i am losing my mind. is it obvious (part 4379543!) | please reblog!! im getting back into writing and reblogs with tags and comments will make me want to write more :D

xiao

goes out of his way to avoid you. just the quickest glance can bring a full flush to his face, a telltale sign of his infatuation with you. he begs rex lapis to make you think he doesn't hate you, no matter how many times he disappears as quick as he arrives when talking to you.

zhongli

squeezes out every last bit of mora to buy you treats, and sometimes borrows childe's money for it. the cutest keychain, or the most delicious looking sweets – whatever he thinks you'd like, he'd buy for you. sometimes his payments come in the form of IOUs.

kaeya

writes letters to you, but never sends them. each letter has a heart-wrenching essay-like message – it spans pages, trust him – dedicated to you, but kaeya never has the heart to actually send it out to your address. sticking on the stamps and pretending that he did will have to do.

diluc

lets his touch linger a little longer. a pat on the back can turn into him dusting off your shoulders, insisting that the recent fight left a splotch of mud on your tunic, when there was nothing at all. he's subtle about it, but his red-growing cheeks are a blaring signal that you notice.

childe

smiles more around you. he's a jokey man by nature, but with you? his smiles are genuine. he no longer needs to hide his troubles past a facade of happiness because with you, his happiness is genuine. it's real, and it's seeping through every pore of his body with the life you breathe into him.

alhaitham

like childe, he smiles – the stone face he usually reserves for the public is wiped away, now replaced with a gentle and soft smile that lights up his face. his demeanor changes; alhaitham is noticeably happier around you. people tell you that you change him, but you never seem to notice.

kaveh

he laughs. there's no more fake laughter to get out of situations or to please old aunties who are too involved in his life for him to be happy. he genuinely laughs at every joke you tell, or every silly gift you playfully give to him. these mourning flowers seem to perk up a little every time you're around.

taglist. @zuyoo @starz222 @ilyuu @manager-of-the-pudding-bank @dxstopiaa @mccnstruck @xiaosonlybeloved @trqvcii @slvdsjjk @liminalimmortal @vennnnn-diagram @cherry-colored-petals @mondaymelon @tartaglia-apologist @soleillunne @ganyusbrideee @abyssalsprince @favonius-captain @snobwaffles @sn1perz @milkwithspiceyicecubes @softcosmixs @nnasv @chichikoi@aimynx @xiaxilia open! send an ask to be added.

[helloboystimetooruntoo221b]

day out

hobie brown/reader

summary: you go somewhere with hobie.

tags: can be read as romantic or platonic it’s up to you!!!, sweet! hobie, nicknames, skipping school, mild arguments/harassment (it’s very small)

. . . ⇢ ˗ˏˋ [spidcrhunni!!] ࿐ྂ

your laughter bounces down the alleyway as hobie pulls you along by your hand. skipping school was always exhilarating as you didn’t do it very often, not wanting to be scolded by your parents. the two of you slow to a jog, and eventually into a walk as you both continue laughing softly. “c’mon, i need some food.” hobie pulls his hand from yours, stretching his arms overhead. “fine, fine. as long as you promise we won’t get caught.” you reply, following your best friend down to a nearby old-fashioned looking diner that had set up a week prior. “i thought you were gonna ask me to pay.” he jokes, grinning at you. “that too.” you wink playfully, listening as he laughs. “fine, fine. i’ll pay.”

hobie opens the door for you, letting you enter first. scoping the diner, you don’t recognise anyone immediately, so you nod to hobie who enters as well. a waitress smiles, walking over. “hi there! go sit down and i’ll be with you in a moment.” she greets. she’s older than you and hobie, eyes warm and kind; almost motherly. her southern accent is sweet against your ears. “thanks.” you reply, leading hobie to a far booth, assuming that the further away from the door, the less likely someone would recognise the two of you. hobie sits down, looking around. “not bad here.” he comments, you hum. “i just hope the food’s good.” your words make hobie nod. “yeah, me too. i’ve got a good vibe from this place though.”

the waitress, who’s name tag read ‘jessie’, from before walks over, setting down two menus. “can i get you two anything to drink?” she asks, smiling politely. “i’ll take a coffee, black with two sugars.” hobie responds, adding on a quick ‘please’ as you nudge him under the table. she seems rather caught off guard by the strong request, yet nods, writing it down. “anything for you, darling?” she turns to you, pen ready. “i’ll have a vanilla milkshake, please.” you smile, watching her nod. “of course. i’ll be right back.” jessie turns, walking back to the counter. “she’s nice.” you quip, smiling at hobie. “mhm. almost creepy though. no one should be that happy.” he jokes, you snort softly. “c’mon, there’s nothing wrong with being that happy. it’s nice to see.”

the waitress soon comes back, accidentally interrupting your conversation about the english teacher both you and hobie shared. “thank you..!” you chirp as hobie nods. “no problem. decided on anything to eat?” she asks, glancing between you both. “i’ll have the waffles, please.” you smile, looking at hobie. “i’ll have to ask for the same- please.” he replies, sharing a small smile with you. “of course. i’ll be back in a jiff!” she leaves once more, you nudge hobie’s boot with your sneaker. “see, you can be nice.” you tease. “i am nice! to you anyway…” he responds, a joking frown on his face. you roll your eyes, sipping your milkshake. “you gonna share?” he jokes, drinking some of his coffee. “if i had two straws, yeah. besides, you have your coffee!” you laugh.

the door opening makes you both glance over. “oh fuck..!” hobie hides his face, turning to look out the window. you hide your own face behind a menu, hoping that the person wouldn’t recognise the two of you. that person being someone that also shared most of the classes that you two shared, benny. “fuck- fuck. what is he doing here?!” hobie whisper yells. “i don’t know..!” you respond, voice harsh yet low. footsteps trail over, you take a deep breath. “hobie- y/n, is that you?” he asks, voice snarky. the two of you stay silent, hoping he’d go away. “it is- i’d recognise that shitty jacket anywhere.” he quips towards your best friend, who turns, scowling. “what do you want, benny?” he asks, leaning back against the booth. you put the menu down after having your cover blown.

“nothing from you two. do you even have the money to pay for the stuff here?” he quips. hobie furrows his brows. “yes. unlike you, i work for my money, i don’t get dirty money from my daddy’s trust fund.” he sneers. “bart…” you sigh, pressing your foot against his ankle under the table to try and soothe him. “whatever, at least i don’t dress like a tramp-“ the harsh clacking of heels against the floor makes you all stop. jessie comes over. “is this guy bothering you honey?” she asks, mainly to you. “yeah, a little. it’s okay though-“ you try to console her, yet she turns to benny. “i won’t take any hassling of my patrons, thank you very much. i’ll have to ask you to leave.” she crosses her arms, clearly not intimidated by him. “what?” benny scoffs.

“you heard me, go one- get! consider yourself banned from maude’s diner!” she shoos benny out, who utters something about his father ‘doing something’ about the situation. hobie let’s out a laugh. “damn. seems like this will be our go to spot now.” he jokes, grinning at you. “seems like it.” you smile. jessie comes back a soft smile on her lips. “everything okay, sugar?” she asks, hands clasped together politely. “yes, thank you jessie.” you reply. “i’m glad. to make up for the altercation, your food’s on the house- courtesy of my wife, maude.” she smiles, hand pressing to her chest honestly. “oh- you don’t have to! we’re happy to pay.”

hobie pipes up. “y’mean i will be happy to pay.” he corrects, a teasing smile on his lips. you roll your eyes. jessie laughs softly at his words. “we insist, you two have been a delight. it’s been nice to hear laughter in our diner. gives the place some liveliness that we can’t recreate from our last diner in maude’s hometown- kansas was such a beautiful place.” she halts her chatter. “sorry about that- i’ll be right back with your food.” jessie smiles, turning around and leaving you two be. “she’s so sweet.” you beam, hobie nods. “yeah, like a nice aunt at a family gathering.” he agrees, yet less enthusiastically. you continue sipping your milkshake, happily talking to hobie.

jessie comes back, two plates of steaming waffles in her hands. “here you go. enjoy..! i’ll be over there if you need anything.” she coos, leaving you both be. “these look good.” hobie smiles, stomach audibly rumbling. you chuckle. “don’t start drooling.” you tease, kicking his foot. hobie kicks back, yet more gently to avoid hurting you as his boots had steel-toe caps. the two of you dig in, making conversation over your breakfast. you felt great; as always when you spent time with hobie. you wouldn’t have him any other way.

[helloboystimetooruntoo221b]

Thinking about Yandere!Sumeru Boys and the sweet, lovely bartender who's become the talk of Sumeru recently.

After receiving the news of the Sage's downfall and Lesser Lord Kusanali's rescue, you, who'd been out venturing Teyvat to learn about its global gastronomy and arts, decide to return to your homeland and help your father's busy Tavern. The knowledge you've gained from your travels prove to be fruitful as Lambad's Tavern reaches a new peak of popularity. Though, not everyone's point of interest is the menu — no no, in fact, many have become frequent patrons simply to get a glimpse of the new face behind the counter.

You and Kaveh click almost immediately. Your shared views on arts and beauty is one thing checked off, but the way your actually understand him? Unlike most people when they hear his story, you're not quick to put a lable on him ; instead, you make him feel heard and normal for the very first time. Listen patiently and don't throw factual advice on how to fix his life. No wonder he poured out his entire life story to you, all on his first conversation. He's left wondering where you've been all his life as you share a portion of your own struggles, views on life and snippets of your adventures. To this day, Kaveh recalls the conversation along with your benign smile and feels his heart thump as if he's become a teenager again.

Every ensuing visit to the Tavern has his belief strengthen as well : you two must be soulmates. He's even started (half) jokingly calling you one as well, which never seems to move you the way he wants though as, all you do is adorably giggle and ask him to pay for his order. Oh well, he supposes that's an indication that you do not pity him solely because of his financial status. Kaveh's life had gotten a lot better with your presence ; he no longer drinks himself to oblivion, sleeps better than before and doesn't even pay heed to his roommate's sharp comments that'd otherwise end in a massive argument, thoughts preoccupied with what kind of trinket he could bring to impress you. For a brief period, Kaveh had felt like he'd finally found his light, his reason to keep living. He'd only wish he hadn't introduced his friends to you.

You first ‘officially’ meet the dusty-rock-of-a-roommate of Kaveh (his words) when you took the responsibility of dropping him to his place of residence after the architect had passed out from taking a sip of the Sneznayan Fire-Water. You weren't sure what you were expecting from Alhaitham, but a talk over books that spiralled a little too late into the night and ended with him walking you back home certainly wasn't it. You can see where Kaveh came from, The Acting Grand Sage did not have the countenance that invited friendships. You'll have to thank your profound interest in all genres of books and an equal ease to share your opinions to not be at the recipient of that attitude. It takes you a little too much time to notice that since that night, the Scribe has found himself a second home in your radar. You see him at Puspa Cafe, the Grand Bazar, the streets and after a little while, even at your father's Tavern almost frequently. So, much so that calling him something of a friend might not be so far-fetched now.

In Alhaitham's defense, he's simply intrigued, it's not everyday he meets someone who can keep up with him. It took him only a glance at you to realize you're the person who has Kaveh blushing and giggling like a madman at random times. The architect's creepy behavior aside, at least, it seemed as though some of your sense of responsibility had rubbed off on him so, less headache for Alhaitham. You're easy to talk to ; granted, you don't always have agreements but that doesn't pose as an impediment from keeping the conversation flowing. In fact, you treat him no different ; neither his status nor his prolonged disappearances that'd no doubt affect anyone else can change your easygoing persona as he approaches you, the coffee and dishes you make are rather good too and— ah. Alhaitham understands now why Kaveh is so smitten with you.

Lambad's Tavern is a prominent destination for fans of Genius Invocation TCG, you like the game, too. But because of your duty, you can only resign yourself to watching from the counter as some rejoiced in victory and others had their heads in their heads from loss. It's entertaining to a degree, frustrating to another as you have to remain silent while the players make dumb choices. You digress, whatever they do is none of your business. But if you had to pick one group that produced the most entertaining show out of this game ; it'd be the friends Kaveh brought along with him. Most of the times, they'd just be reduced to Kaveh's ranting pillows and really, only one of them—and by that you mean the General Mahamatra who seemed to truly care for the game. You're curious about him, actually. He seemed so different from the rumours that were floating around. And thanks to Kaveh's impulsive announcement that you'd be dueling Cyno one night, you had the opportunity to satiate that curiousity — and flex a win against the master of TCG altogether.

To say Cyno was flabbergasted would be the understatement of the century. He'd repeatedly demanded for a second match that time (all the while Kaveh looked like he could die of pride) but you'd shut it off with the (not really) threat of charging extra for your lost time. Since then, he'd been hot on your tail, too. Trying to coax you into a second match with every strategy he can think of : bribing, bargaining, cracking awful jokes to befriend you — his hard work paid off, but the sight of a win against you still seemed to be far. At one point, those concerns were lost as you both simply found fun in each other's presence. Cyno, in the meantime, had noticed that your amiable personality was both a blessing and a curse. Do you not see the corrupt glints in their eyes? The wanton touches and disgusting saccharine lacing their words? No can do, they do not deserve your courtesy. Do not blame him for taking matters into his own accounts or show any semblance of concern after the personnel mysteriously disappear the next day ; its just a little favor for his TCG buddy.

Out of all of them, Tighnari took you the longest to get to know properly. Given his usually passive personality in the presence of others, no wonder he'd strayed a little from your attention. The forest ranger wasn't behind in knowing you, though. In fact, it seemed as though he had been picking up on clues his other friends were missing. Tighnari had been the first to take notice of your ennui, which he had surmised to be a result of all the people you have to deal with everyday. Turns out even you have your moments. One evening as Kaveh, Cyno and Alhaitham were preoccupied with debating over who-knows-what, Tighnari took the opportunity to approach you about it. He couldn't ignore the darkening circles under your eyes or the brightness in your optics dimming any longer — he's glad he did ; in truth, your life had gotten crazier than it was back when you were traveling, you'd confessed. You no longer felt truly...alone, even in moments that you're sure is securely private. Tighnari listened intently, for once the roles being switched. He sent hand-made remedies to help with your stress, frequently wrote to you to check your well being when he couldn't visit personally, anything within his power.

He felt sympathy for your state, such a precious thing like you doesn't deserve this, you should be treated better, he could treat you better — now if only you're at arms reach to the forest ranger. Alas, for now he'd have to be content with this development. Tighnari has an inkling about who is, or are, responsible for your building misery. Does he intent to do anything with that knowledge though? Yes, coaxing you to his side, preferably.

The innocent, nameless wandering boy you'd taken with you on your return to Sumeru, suddenly returned home with a glowing anemo vision in the span of a few hours one fine afternoon. Nothing really seemed out of the ordinary though, he was still as glued to your person (though nowadays he seemed to venture out more than usual), he was still the harmless boy you'd grown accustomed to. So then, why did it feel like something was amiss? Was it how often he'd find himself at the brink of an angry customer's fist? Or was it because that only occurs when you leave the counter to get something and that same customer just so happened to have been pushing you for a date beforehand? Your suspicions always end up fleeting though, you can never even raise an eyebrow at the boy, not when he looks at you with those glossy puppy eyes. In the end, it's always the other man that's handed over to the guards, it's always the others, in general at the face of your displeasure — not Wanderer, never Wanderer. If only you could see the same grin he directs at the retreating men behind your unassuming back.

You never did regret letting him trail behind your person (except maybe the bombarding allegations from your family of him being your significant other, it took one whole week to convince them otherwise, after all.) ; he was sweet and so.. clueless, as if he were but a newborn child. Your heart couldn't resist the poor thing and that's what brought you to this situation. Wanderer revels in others' jealousy at the sight of you two's closeness (who could guess this same man tried to take over Sumeru). He can do many of the things your other admirers can only dream of ; lean on your shoulder, fall asleep on your lap, play with your hair as you prepare a drink, whisper things in your ear with a purposefully lowered voice and get away with anything. All is well with the lost boy you'd picked up from the last turn of your travels, it's just that, you can't quite shake off the feeling of a strange familiarity everytime you look at his otherwordly eyes.

what do you call this? a love hexagon? 🤔