#as you can see i don’t know how armour works

[sheimpfriedrice]

—The Great Sage, Equal to Heaven

—————————————————————————

[thelikesoffinn]

„Astarion ending as the Vampire Ascendant is the correct ending for him, because it is what he wants.”

That is a claim I’ve been seeing pop up more and more often these days. And I think it’s both a very bold and a very odd claim to make.

But first things first: Hello, I’m a licensed social worker! So far, I’ve worked with children, refugees and youths with behavioural issues stemming from bullying and or abuse.

Please be aware that I will be mentioning different kinds of abuse, coping mechanisms, and victim/abuser relationships. If any of this is difficult for you, don’t force yourself through it. My jabbering about a traumatised vampire is not worth your wellbeing, not ever.

I will, however try to stick to Astarion and not use other examples. If, in any case, I do use a non-Astarion example, I’ll add a warning beforehand so that you can skip the part. And I’ll make it clear what will be discussed in the next bit, so that you have a chance to skip it entirely.

This is an effort to make this as accessible as possible for everyone that wants to indulge on a mad woman’s rambling – and I know there’s a few people that like this sort of stuff!

And, uh, there's obviously spoilers for all three acts. Serious spoilers, even.

Before I can get into the whole ‘why Astarion didn’t really want to ascend,’ we need to understand him a little more. And to understand this pretty boy’s brain, we first need to understand the gist of what we’re talking about when we throw around the word ‘abuse.’

“Abuse” is when someone is treated with cruelty, violence, or neglect – often to bad effect – on a regular basis. Repetitively. Check’s out for Astarion, I’d say, but we all knew that already. I mean, if one thing was obvious, it was this.

1. Astarions Abuse

Next we need to look at what kind of abuse Astarion faced over his long years of torment, seeing as different types of abuse will have different effects on the victim.

Not that that is anything we have to worry about with him – Astarion won the abuse lottery, to put it bluntly. In a horrible game of fate, he got everything. He himself indirectly mentions all the types of abuse he faced, albeit never using the correct terms.

The first we properly notice – fitting, seeing as it is often the most obvious form of abuse – is the physical abuse. Astarions scars are probably the biggest tell Larian could shove down our throats, only underlined by Astarion’s tale about the night itself. About how Cazador ‘misspelled something’ every time he flinched or screamed and had to do ‘many corrections. On top of this, Cazador locked Astarion up for months on end and tortured him – or had him tortured – on a regular basis both as a rite and as a punishment.

Next up, we have the fact that Astarion was forced to basically prostitute himself repeatedly. This is what we call sexual exploitation.

“I spent two hundred years using my body to lure pretty things back for my Master.” – Act 2

Two hundred years is a long time, filled with great many people. Now, we don’t know how many of those people actually tapped into the sexual exploitation and how many he could just lure back with other means, but the fact that it happened a lot is undeniable.

Next we have a form of abuse that we often disregard in adults: Neglect. It sounds odd, I know, saying that a fully grown adult was neglected. They can care for themselves, can they not?

Well. Yes and no.

Adult neglect is proceeded by the condition that one adult has to lean on another adult to fulfil their needs for whatever reason. This could be anything, from disability to income-based issues.  

Seeing as Astarion had absolutely nothing, while Cazador had everything, we can assume this was the case. Cazador had the house, the money, the power. Astarion owns but one pair of clothes, assumedly, that he has fixes over and over again. Fair to say, that’s pretty neglectful. (And it’s one more reason to shower the guy in pretty armour and camp clothes. Go ham, people.)

Last we have the form of abuse we actually get to witness later in the game – emotional abuse.

Once again, it’s undeniable that this happened. Especially since we’re all seeing it in the flesh upon meeting Cazador in his crypt.

“Have you no respect for yourself?”

“I strove for perfection in all things. Even those as imperfect as you.”

“A pity you amounted to so little, despite my efforts.”

“A pathetic little boy who never amounted to anything.”

All Act 3, Crypt

Here we have just a few examples of things Cazador throws in his face. It’s like reading a textbook on emotional abuse, this one (and it’s definitely a reason to throw hands).

Blaming the victim, keeping their sense of self and their self-worth as tiny as possible to make them cower and flee. A true classic.

This pretty much shows that Astarion suffered all forms of abuse we commonly see and it is implied – once again by Astarion himself – that at least a few of those instances were ritualistic.

Now, what does that mean exactly? Well, I fear I need to use a real example here, so please skip the next paragraph.

Ritualistic doesn’t refer to a proper ritual – it can, but that’s mostly a thing for those in a cult. So, we’re not necessarily talking about a ‘Vampire Ascendent Ritual’. A husband, beating his wife every evening after his third bottle of beer is also called ritual abuse. It happens regularly. It is part of a routine. Both parties know what will happen.

I can’t find the exact quote, so I’m working of my memory here, but at one point he said that when Cazador invited him to eat and he said yes, he would be served a putrid rat. If he said no, he’d be beaten.

The way it was phrased made it clear that it happened more than once and that Astarion clearly knew what would happen. So, this can be classified as ritualistic abuse.

2. A Note on Conditioning and Compliance

By default, abuse victims are conditioned to behave a certain way or in a certain fashion. This is a natural response to avoid further abuse.

In Astarion, the thing we see most often is his inherent need to please. Not literally, he doesn’t mind being an arsehole. But he initially feels the need to follow Tav’s orders, even if they go against his own wishes.

This can be clearly seen in the conversation with Araj Oblodra. Astarion very clearly doesn’t want to bite her. He doesn’t. But he will do so, if Tav tells him to. This behaviour is not conscious – he doesn’t know why he does it, he just does – and it is to be expected. This is how he kept himself save for two centuries, so of course he will fall back into his usual pattern when the pressure is high.

This goes hand in hand with the fact that most abuse victims don’t fight. Maybe initially, but not after long term abuse. Especially not after two fucking centuries.

This is true in Astarion – offered by his ‘siblings’ during act 3 and unhappily acquiesced by the man himself. Astarion stopped fighting and, once again implied, cowered, and did as he was told in order to survive.

3. The Astarion we know and love

Obviously, all that abuse does have an impact on our vampire boyfriend. He shows various common signs of abuse and just like with the forms of abuse, Astarion raked every coping mechanism he could find. (Not really, but it feels like it.) It’s also important to note that nearly all of the following things happen inwardly. Astarion is not one of the victims, that tries to rationalise and minimise the actions of his abuser. Quite the opposite, actually.

I’ll note from the beginning, that rationalisation will not be covered in this bit, as most examples will be important later on. But he definitely does it.

One of his biggest skills is to hide every ounce of fear or hurt behind sarcasm and snarky theatrics. He doesn’t seem to hide his anger much, though, so that’s something! Our boy is cool with anger, not so much with being afraid.

“Ahahaha, now that you mention it….I might have done…that.” – Act 3, regarding the Gur children

“The thing that will decide my fate forever more? Yeees, it’s been on my miiiind. Why?” – Act 2, regarding the Ritual

And there’s many more instances that prove this. Honestly, half his dialogue is sarcasm, so it would really be too long to get into and we all know what I mean, right? We have alltalked to the guy before. It’s obvious that he’s sarcastic to a fault.

This goes hand in hand with his penchant for defensiveness. I would personally state that he’s simply not really good with guilt. When talking about fear, he usually just opts for sarcasm or avoids the topic completely, but guilt especially has his defences going up. This is also when he’s most likely to shove all the blame off to Cazador.

“Don’t look at me like that. Cazadors orders.” – Act 3, Crypt

“I just did what I had to!” – Act 3, Crypt

And don’t get me wrong, he does that anyway. And with good reason. Astarion didn’t have a choice for the most part, but he’s still easy to shove things off.

This kind of connects to his penchant for denial.

Astarion doesn’t really like to talk about most things. He firmly believes he is an ‘action’ sort of person that just does instead of plans, which invertedly just means he’s great at pushing the thinking stuff away. He also likes to get rid of stuff, so that he doesn’t need to face it ever again.

“I never want to see these little scraps of misery again. The world doesn’t need to know my shame.” – Act 3, about the children

And yes, this partly rings true. He’s probably ashamed and doesn’t want anyone to know what he’s done. But it’s also very clear that he himself simply doesn’t want to face his own actions, something that is just  underlined by his extreme willingness to red rid of the other spawn.

As mentioned by Astarion himself, he’s big on manipulation. I mean, I don’t think there is much explaining necessary. The guy is willing to do a whole lot in order to get what he desires – which mostly revolves around safety and survival, to be honest – and he’s not really shy about it either. And that’s despite the fact that he doesn’t really like intimacy – especially in form of sex.

It’s not a secret that Astarion is not big on sex and anything surrounding it. This goes far enough for people to consider him either ace or ace coded.

A claim that, personally, I’m not super in line with.

Now, it’s not entirely wrong and if this is your head cannon I’m surely not going to stand in your way – but on a larger spectrum, I think he’s more traumatised than ace. And while those go hand in hand sometimes, it’s a bit difficult for the ace community if you attach traumatised characters to them because it can fuel a whole lot of stigma that is honestly neither needed nor wanted. But I digress!

If it comes to his own behaviour, he’s great at minimising his mistakes. Honestly, he’s a master of minimisation. A very obvious and famous example would be:

“’Killed’ feels like a…strong word. Not many corpses have your vigour.” – Act 1, after killing Tav

Astarion. You literally sucked poor Tav dry and left them flopping around, cold, and dead. Killed is exactly the right word and we all know it.

“Quite the deviation from my usual routine. Capture, not lure. I didn’t bring them in with sweet rolls or anything.” – Act 3, Gur Children

This is another attempt at minimising what he did, if a bit less obvious because at this point there isn’t much he can say. But at least he didn’t sexualise the gur children, right? They’re still spawn but whoo, at least that didn’t happen.  

The next point would be dissociation, which is extremely common in abuse victims – of all forms of abuse.

Astarion himself mentioned certain moments that could be classified as dissociation over course of the story, which is probably the coping mechanism I personally expected the most.

The pale elf has a penchant for violence, but he’s not entirely shameless or abhorrently vile, which gets clearer the more the story progresses. So, two hundred years of forced prostitution, torture and doing whatever other horrible things? Yeah, I’d be more surprised if he didn’t dissociate.

Examples of that would be:

“A moment of disgust to push myself through and then I could’ve carried on, just like before.” – Act 2, after Araj

“I felt nothing the moment I handed them over.” – Act 3, Gur Children

“Did you enjoy it? It felt like you weren’t fully there.” – Act 1, Tav after Sex

The latter is generally more of an assumption than actual prove, but with context it does make sense.

The last common sign of abuse we find in our boyfriend would be his low self-worth. It’s a consistent trait that stays over the course of all three acts, noticeable in many different conversations.

We can see it in his reaction to wanting to break up before finishing his story. We can see it in his genuine surprise when Tav picks him over any of the other characters. We see it in his insecurity whenever Tav asks to sleep with another character. He’s fine with it, but he still worries their decision to sleep with someone else is based on something he did.

It eases up ever so slightly after Cazador is dead, but even then he’s still struggling which is once again perfectly illustrated if you try to break up with him.

“Oh shit. I- Did I do something wrong?”

That is the first thing he asks and I think it speaks for itself. He genuinely doesn’t believe he has much to offer and for Astarion, it’s likely that Astarion will always be the problem.

4. "Oh, I tried them all none of them answered.”

Another big thing that’s important to note, is that Astarion was never saved. No one came to save him from Cazador. There was no darling boy on a white steed riding into that castle to rescue him and princess carry him away. Not even the gods answered his desperate calls.

So, he never received any kindness or luck. To him, the world seems as cruel and horrid as before because he didn’t have the chance to experience goodness in two centuries.

But worse than that, he didn’t even get to save himself. Astarion didn’t stand up to Cazador, he didn’t run out of his own might.

He was beaten to near death and ‘saved’ by Cazador, who would become his abuser.

He tried to save someone and, in turn, was locked up and starved for an entire year.

He was abducted by mind flayers, i.e., saved from Cazador, only to end up tadpoled and on the cusp of getting a fancy, squiddy beard.

Anything that’s good, any kindness, any selfless action…it all came with a ginormous price tag.

5. Over the Course of the Story

Astarions behaviour changes a whole lot over the course of three acts – which is important once we talk about his quests climax – so let’s review what we’re working with!

Act 1 Astarion is guarded as fuck. The man has walls around him that are so high, even the gods can touch them.

A lot of his behaviour in act 1 revolves around staying save and staying liked. He lies, manipulates, and flutters his lashes in order to get what he wants and needs. Instead of asking, like Wyll, Karlach and Gale do, Astarion uses all he has to offer to get by. He is still very much in survival mode and tries to weasel his way through an unfamiliar situation with familiar methods.

On top of that, and most notably, he’s absolutely not fond of kindness or selflessness.

#I saved a child and now my boyfriend is mad

Here, we are most likely to gain disapproval for doing the decent thing – unless you sent him outside for a minute whenever you’re being a good person.

And I’d assume that this is because of two things.

First: The very traditional ‘Why not me?’

As I mentioned before, Astarion wasn’t saved. He hasn’t experienced kindness in a very long time so seeing that the world is literally filled with kind people is hurtful. Why didn’t anyone save him? Why was he left to his own devices for so long? Why should he care about others when it’s so clear that no one ever cared about him? No, dead to all of them. If he didn’t get it, neither will they.

“And what am I owed? What about the injustices I suffered? Am I not entitled to anything?” – Act 3, Crypt

“I was in the prime of my life when I was turned. Everything was taken from me too.” – Act 3, Crypt

And secondly is the fact that, as I mentioned, goodness always has a price. And it’s one most people won’t be willing to pay. That’s how his life has been, so why would theirs be different?

This is precisely why Astarion may disapprove of kind actions, but he mostly neither approves nor disapproves if Tav asks for payment. That’s just how the world works.

Once you venture out into act 2, after getting to know him a whole lot more, he starts to mellow a bit – if only towards Tav.

“He’s afraid, so afraid, of everyone but you, who she should fear the most.” – Sceleritas about Astarion

His approval is a lot easier to gain – or at least keep! – and he tends to approve of some more proper actions. He doesn’t throw a fit if you promise to find Mol, he approves of Tav being kind to His Majesty, of saving Aylin and he even approves of Durge apologising to Isobel after threatening to rip her to pieces.

He's slowly starting to open up, allowing Tav to see some parts of him he previously kept hidden. He accepts their offer to help, if hesitantly and, by god, the man starts experimenting with boundaries.

The social worker in me is shedding tears at this. It’s my favourite thing to see in my clients and it’s no different here. Yay to saying no!

Of course, it’s still a bit hit or miss. If Tav urges him to bite Araj, for example, he will only to later notice that he didn’t fucking have to. He recognises this on his own and he calls Tav out on it. Just like he calls them out on not helping him with his Orthon quest.

Good job, chap. Good fucking job.

And the growth-train won’t stop going even as we reach act 3.

In act 3, there’s not many things he disapproves as of right now – those he does, mostly have to do with how Tav treats him and not with anyone else. In fact, he’s more likely to approve good behaviour now, like giving Yenna food or money.

And yes, we need to consider that this could simply be because he gets used to Tav’s behaviour and just learns to roll with it. But it’s also highly likely that he notices that there’s truly good people around. At least one person. And that person is not only good, no, they’re in the process of helping him break free once and for all.

They’re helping him save himself.

By act 3, he has learned that he can absolutely say his piece where Tav is concerned and he’s more likely to disagree with them on certain things. It’s seen during a lot of small dialogue that he’s no longer terribly afraid to be honest with them, willing to listen and talk and he’ll ask for help if he needs it.

“I can do this. But I need your help.” – Act 3, Crypt

Something that can be viewed both positively and negatively is that he’s definitely loyal to a fault. He will stick by Tav’s side, no matter what.

“I really hoped we could avoid being pawns for a dark god, but here we are, I suppose. I’m with you, my dear, wherever this might lead.” – Act 3, After Jaheira confronts durge

As I said, this can be both positive and negative. On one count, it’s a recipe for disaster, seeing as he could be waltzing into a really bad situation for Tav alone.

But on the other side…this is a man who only cared about himself because that is the only person he could afford to care about. He needed to survive. He now has enough room to breathe and the capacity to care for someone else and I’d be inclined to count that as a good thing.

6. The Crypt

All the progress he made in act 2 and 3 is nearly tossed into the wind as soon as the crew enters Cazadors castle.

It’s not an immediate thing, of course.

At first, Astarion tries to stay light and simple and he hides behind flippant tones and relaxed faces. The way he recounts this is almost comically disinterested and the façade is actually quite good.

It’s start’s cracking after we meet Godie, one of the people who tortured him on more than one account, but he mostly manages to remain as upbeat as one can honestly expect for the first half of the journey.

All that, however, is done for the very moment we meet Sebastian. His mask not only slips, no, it full on shatters and there’s none of his apparent lightness left.

Which, of course it does.

The man is suddenly faced with years and years and years of victims. Innocent, unlucky people he lured back to his master over two centuries. People he liked, people he pitied.

“It’s sickening, seeing them again.”

It’s basically a room filled with guilt, exclusively for Astarion. And, as we mentioned before…Astarion is not great with guilt.

The guilt, however, is not where it ends.

No, he’s also faced with reflections of his own past. The spawn pose as reminders of what he did, sure, but also as reminders of what he was.

Weak, desperate, hungry.

There’s an abundance of images of his worst moments, reflected back at him in the thousands. It’s probably like staring into a funhouse mirror, but instead of seeing yourself in a funky way he just sees everything he so desperately doesn’t want to be.

“It should be [who I am]! I don’t want to be like them. They’re pathetic, horrible…”

He’s forcefully made aware of how darn weak he can be, which claws at all the wounds he’s barely had time to close. Something, he of course won’t admit if asked.

“THEY DO NOT [remind me of myself]. That weakness in me is dead, IT’S DEAD. I have a higher purpose.”

The high pressure of the moment brings out all of his act 1 traits in but a few moments. You can pretty much watch how he starts to shut down mid conversation, one of his old walls snapping back into place to remove himself from the situation.

Thing is though, walls usually become a bit brittle after disuse. Especially when talking to a person you don’t usually want to wall out.

Or, in his case, when talking to Tav.

After meeting Sebastian, Astarion shows extreme reactions to Tav nudging any of his weak spots. His reaction varies on whatever choice you make, but it ranges from aggression to defensiveness, to denial and even to downright begging Tav.

“Don’t hate me. I just did what I had to. I swear I did what I had to.”

This probably the most shocking out of all of them, since that is not something we got to witness before. The begging is likely a mixture of intense fear of losing Tav, his low self-esteem and pre-Tav behaviour, since we can assume that Cazador made him beg more than once.

Another old coat he puts back on would also be the least surprising of them all.

Manipulation.

He falls right back into it, using Tav’s affection to get what he want if we trigger the right action.

“If they die and I ascend, I won't have to rely on the parasite to walk in the sun. I'll be free. Truly completely free. Isn't that what you want?”

This, to me, was probably the biggest tell that Astarion was back in survival mode. He’s panicking, for fucks sake, and who can blame the guy? He’s back. He’s about to face down his abuser.

Of course he’s fucking panicking.

Panic leads to an increased craving for safety and, in his case, power. This is why he clings to Tav, why he begs them to love him still. And this is why he jumps head first into the rationalisation pool.

“I will need to sacrifice them all if I want to perform the ritual. - [You can save them.] – What’s the point? They're as good as dead! I thought they were dead. If they are unleashed, they will cause incredible carnage. […] They must die. Better they serve a purpose.”

Another textbook example.

They must die anyway. They’re basically dead. No need to save them now. They’re dangerous, I’m doing the right thing by sacrificing them. I already thought they were dead, so it’s not changing anything for me. They’re a lost cause and I deserve  all this power. I deserve it, because I suffered and nothing will change if they die.

So, seeing as we already spoke about his usual behaviour in act 3 – behaviour he showed after we allowed him to breathe and be himself for a while – I think we can fairly easily conclude he’s not thinking straight.

Astarion is right back in survival mode, where all that matters is he himself. If it weren’t for the seven thousand spawns, he might have moved through this more gracefully, but seeing those tipped the scales and Astarion is absolutely losing it.

Remember that for the last section, per favore.

7. The Ascension

“Astarion wants to ascend and Tav manipulates him into doing what they want.”

That is basically the essence of what people often claim and I can’t help but shake my head at such a blatant disregard of everything he has become. This is completely ignoring the change and growth he has gone through over the course of their journey.

Astarion wants to be free. He wants to be safe. That does not mean he wants to ascend.

And the claim that Tav manipulates him into doing anything is even more baffling. We are all aware that Tav is not manipulative by nature, yes? That is entirely on you. You decide who your Tav is.

And then let’s remember: Astarion is panicked. He’s afraid and he’s not thinking straight. His abuser is on his knees before him and he still feels so weak. And there’s seven thousand spawns that need handling.

Astarion is very much not okay right now.

In fact, reading his thoughts just proves this theory.

“You can see the fear in his eyes but also the hunger. The thick smell of blood in the air and the promise of power being so close is intoxicating to him. All he can see is the power of the ritual and the freedom that power brings. The freedom to do anything. To be anything.”

Tav, however, has none of those problems. They can actually see beyond the current situation and they are fully aware what the consequences are. Astarion is not. As we previously established, Astarion is a doer. Not a thinker. He didn’t think this through, not at all.

The only thing Tav is doing – the persuasion roll – is reminding him of the very real consequences he is facing. The consequences he hasn’t thought about before.

"I know you think this will set you free, but it won't. This power will trap you, just like it trapped Cazador."

And that is the kindest thing Tav could do in this situation. They’re not bodily dragging him away from Cazador. They’re not even telling him to not do it. They’re just offering him the truth. He can do with that information whatever he desires.

“Astarion cries when he doesn’t ascend, that just shows that it was the wrong choice.”

A hare-brained point that I thankfully have only seen once so far.

That crying? That is healthy crying.

That is him, crumbling under the stress that suddenly dissipates. That is him mourning two hundred years of torment. That’s him letting out feelings he hasn’t been able to for centuries.

And, for the love of god, try to put yourself in his shoes.

Two hundred years of torment, ended in but a moment.

Astarion was abused and tortured for so long, afraid for so long only to see his tormentor die just like that.

Cazador died within a moment and all Astarion needed was a darn blade. Of course he fucking cries.

Seeing how pathetic a being the very core of your life’s misery actually is hurts. It hurts like hell because not only are you finally free – free! – no, you’re faced with the fact that this pile of nothing, the thing that’s bleeding out right in front of you…this was what tortured for so long.

This thing hurt you so much. That guy took everything from you, everything you once were, and broke it again and again and again over years.

You were so scared of this thing.

And yet he has the gall and the gumption to die just like that.

It was so easy.

And yet you suffered for so long.

8. Evil Playthrough?

An evil playthrough is really a different setting altogether.

All of this, as you can probably tell, is really only applicable on a good playthrough. Realistically speaking. I’m not sure how the game mechanics handle it.

On an evil path, Astarion never really gets to experience kindness and goodness. Evil Tav will just prove him right in his believe that the world is a vile and cold place, meaning that he realistically would be more inclined to actually want to ascend.

9. Final Conclusion

I think all of this should be enough to make it clear that no, ascended Astarion is not the best ending for the guy. In fact, it is probably the worst. Because it’s just him, running away. He’s running into a lonely and cold state of being, where cruelty and power lord over everything else and he’s running because he’s terrified of being hurt again. He’s running despite desperately wanting to stop running.

“I'll spend the rest of my life running watching the shadows, never feeling safe…no, this has to happen. Here and now.”

And, the worst part is: Nothing about Astarion is left after he ascends. Even his tone of speaking gradually changes, his theatrics fading. He’s slowly losing himself, until there’s nothing but an evil caricature left.

So, in the end, ascension will have proven him right.

That version of him is dead.

[earthtooz]

x : THE JOKER AND THE QUEEN :*+ﾟ

in which: you are the best thing to ever to childe, but what will happen when you find out the truth about his profession?

warnings: 4k wc, fluff to angst, ambiguous ending huehue, childe is a whipped loser in love, set in canon, reader has undescribed trauma with fatui (ooo), reader is not referred to with pronouns or a gender but there is a mention of 'queen' (it's up to you how you see it), mentions of violence, childe being referred to as 'ajax', argument, both reader and childe cry, aether and paimon appearance!

a/n: this one might hurt. apologies. (girl u know i want ur love...)

The sun is radiant gold when Childe walks down his peaceful, routine path, away from the bustling commerce centre and towards a peculiar place that he’s called home in Liyue. There are still a million tasks yet to be completed, but for now, his feet take him to the solitude that waits for him at the end of day. 

When Childe arrives at the manor that is his residence in this foreign city, there’s a lifeless kind of calm, the rustling of leaves and flowing stream are the only things to welcome him, but he knows better. Doesn’t need to confirm it when his feet naturally take him upstairs, winding through corridors and towards the balcony that overlooks the horizon. 

The view is very picturesque, overlooking the grandiose Liyue mountains that are decorated with incomparable flora and fauna, but you are there, and he can’t bring himself to look anywhere else. 

You are the best reprieve for his tiring days, and although he will be returning to the Northland Bank to try and solve some of his troubles, the majority of them can be quelled by your presence alone. 

“My darling,” the words slip past his lips without any trouble, and the relief he feels when you turn around and smile at him is insurmountable. Suddenly his hardships dissipate, his lungs are cleared, and his limbs don’t feel as heavy anymore (he can’t think of many people who grin up at him like you do. He hopes you never stop smiling at him like that).

Still, he walks to stand in front of you, and collapses to the floor, resting on his knees by your feet like a faithful jester to his queen. His armour drops and Childe becomes nothing but a man in love before you because there is nothing more human than loving someone more than yourself. 

“Why so exhausted, Ajax?” You ask. 

“The days are bothersome, my love,” he murmurs quietly, slightly muffled, but he then turns his head to look up at you, arms now hugging your calves. “But coming home to you make them infinitely better.” 

“Any good home will bring you comfort,” you deflect, but your words reminds him of a distant, golden memory back in Snezhnaya. The unforgiving, snowy plains had always been his home, the frost that clung to dead tree branches, and the footsteps that he and his siblings left behind in the blankets would were memories of easier times, but here, sitting by you with a chin on your knees, is a memoir of his favourite home. 

The sensation of your hand running through his orange locks take him out of his daydreams, and he melts right into your touch, blood-stained hands completely and wholly attached to you. He commits you to memory, savours the feeling of your warmth against his so he can feel it even whilst he’s away from you. 

Can a home be a person?

He dares to close his eyes. Here, he is safe. Here, he can rest peacefully.

“How was your day?” Asks Childe, stimulating pointless conversation so that he could talk to you and hear your voice that will power him through the tedious night to come.

You begin to talk about the things you had to do today, about the customers you had to deal with, about the errands you still need to run, and all the pressing orders you needed to attend to- hearing it all places an aching weight on his chest. If Childe could have things his way, you wouldn’t need to work at all. You would live life peacefully by his side, without a day of stress as you roam around Liyue Harbour or anywhere else you would want to go, with him holding your arm (would you return to Snezhnaya with him?). 

Alas, life is not so easy nor carefree, but you make it significantly better.

“How pretty is the sunset,” you comment. “Look.” 

He almost doesn’t want to, doesn’t want to put any space between the two of you because looking at the sunset means turning around to face the rays that warm his back, but it’s you who asked him, so Childe turns around and observes the gorgeous blend of colours. He then decides that it’s nothing compared to your beauty.

“Yes, yes, splendid,” the orange-haired agrees, promptly turning back around to look up at you, with a sickening amount of love evident in his eyes. 

“You didn’t even look properly.”

“I’m looking at something much more important right now.”

You shy away at your lover’s blatancy, pushing his face to the side to break his gaze. “Such unabashed flattery, do you have no shame?”

“None! None at all!”

You sigh, a smile creeping at the corners of your lips, timidity teasing Childe as he aches to see more. Reaching for your hands, he intertwines his around them, feeling light as he basks in the softness of your touch that starkly contrast the roughness of his hardened palms. 

His gentle action causes your bracelets to jingle, pure gold and the finest gems of Liyue tinkering quietly against each other. They are gifts from him, he knows because he only buys the best for you. 

“Will you be staying tonight?” You ask. 

His gaze sadly falls to the ground as a regretful, ‘no, I won’t be’ slips past his lips. Tonight, instead of being in your company and resting beside you under the gentle beams of the moonlight, his dedicated Fatui subordinates will be with him instead. The blood on his hands will accumulate and pool by his feet as outstanding debts and scores will be settled, signed with fear and horror as the silence of Liyue sees an unspeakable monster. 

Then, the monster will come crawling to you, fatigued and dirtied with an unrestrained desire to be by your side for as long as time will allow. 

“That’s a shame,” you mutter and Childe winces at the disappointment in your tone. “You work too hard, you know?” 

“It’s just what I need to do,” murmurs the orange-haired, “wish I could spend more time with you, though.”

“It’s alright, as long as I get to see you, I’m happy.” 

He rests his cheek on your knee once more, eyes drooping close. Frighteningly quick, the fatigue he feels from all of his laborious duties catch up to him, latching onto him like a parasite. A nap wouldn’t hurt, 

Nothing can take you away from him, not without a fight. He will bear his teeth, slash his swords until the blades dull, until his bow snaps in half, and until all that’s left of him is a pulp that lies helplessly on the floor, the love pouring from his wounds. Childe only hopes that his last moments are spent in your embrace.

But what will become of this warrior when you’re his opponent? What if you are the one he fights against- what then?

When you wake up one, unassuming morning, you wake up alone. No Ajax to accompany you, the only indication that he was here being the breakfast he had prepared for you that sat atop the counter top. The warmth of the meal lingers, meaning that he must not have left that long ago, and you have to wonder how he knows you so well to guarantee that breakfast is still warm by the time you come down. 

Retrieving a book from the main entrance’s bookshelf, you catch a glimpse of a large box sitting on the entrance table. There is a note beside it, addressed to ‘Traveller’ and signed with ‘Childe’- the name Ajax has supposedly taken up whilst here in Liyue; a merchant name of sorts, he claims. 

You mentally note to listen extra carefully for any knocks at the door, but for now, the promise of a day of relaxation and no work relieves you. Being swamped up in all of your duties meant that you kept forgetting to tell Ajax that you were free for the day, but perhaps you’ll surprise him with a filling and hearty dinner. Work didn’t seem to be all that easy for him either, so you’re sure he’d appreciate the gesture. 

What you weren’t prepared for, however, was discovering a secret that your lover had been hiding from you all this time- in the form of two travellers. 

The anticipated knock on the door came near noon, and two voices from the other side are muffled by the heavy material of the entrance. “Childe said no one would be home, why would you knock?” A high-pitched voice berates.

“Because manners, Paimon!” A male voice retaliates, “even if no one was home, it’s nice to make sure. We shouldn’t barge in without warning.”

“Can you unlock the door yet? Paimon’s dying to know what inside looks like! This property looks so expensive, can you even how much Mora this place is worth! I bet the inside is even-”

The conversation is cut short when you open the door with a soft click, pulling it open slightly. What you’re greeted by, however, is a blond boy with a floating companion, who both wear similar expressions of shock.

“Uh, hello!” You greet with a small smile, feeling slightly awkward.

“Hello, is this Childe’s residence?” The floating one- who you assume is Paimon, asks. 

“You’re at the right place.”

“But he told us no one would be home today!”

“He would be right normally, but I have the day off work. Are you two travellers?”

“Yeah, we are! And who are you?” 

“My name’s Y/n, I’m Childe’s significant other.”

“Childe has a lover?” Paimon’s eyes widen even more if that was even possible. To be honest, this whole scenario was incredibly entertaining. “Since when!”

“We’ve been together for a while. Has he never mentioned me?”

“No! I didn’t even think he could have one with his line of work-”

“-Uhm, we’re kind of in a hurry, I apologise for cutting the conversation,” the blond boy apologises, giving his companion a look before glancing back at you, friendly smile and shining eyes to match his innocent demeanour. “We’re here to pick up something.”

“Ah yes, I did see it. It is rather big, though, could I trouble the two of you to help me bring it out?” You ask, feeling rather embarrassed to bother your guests, but you don’t feel confident to carry the package alone. 

“No trouble at all,” he reassures.

“We can come in, right?” Paimon asks, voice lilting up an octave as mirth shines in her eyes.

“Yes, yes, no need to take off your shoes.” You open the door wider for the two, the floating one flying in first, immediately marvelling at the interior, admiration tangible whilst the blond is a little more reserved, thanking you first before coming in.

What an intriguing pair.

“My name is Aether, and that’s Paimon. I just realised we hadn’t introduced ourselves.” 

“It’s lovely to meet the two of you. Do you do business with Childe often?” Your tongue almost strains at the mention of his business name, but if your boyfriend had appearances to keep, then you needed to try to uphold it too.

Paimon flies over to Aether, joining the conversation. “You could say that. Sometimes he causes more trouble than it’s worth!” 

“That sounds like him,” you huff, an affectionate smile appearing on your face. “The package is right here, but like I said, it seems quite heavy.”

“Allow me,” Aether volunteers, stepping forward to carry the box by himself. He stumbles a little due to the weight, and you hold your hands out just in case.

“Are you sure you don’t need any help?”

The blond merely huffs before shifting the box to one arm. “No need, we’re troubling you enough already.”

“I see. I apologise, if I had known what time you were coming I would have brewed some tea for you two, Liyue has a very fine selection,” you say, fiddling with your thumbs. 

“Aww! Paimon would have loved to try some!”

“Thank you for the offer, I would have liked to try some too, but we are short for time,” Aether explains.

“Then just wait here, I’ll fetch a bag for you to keep on your travels.”

You leave the entrance room before either of them have the chance to reject your offer, and you’re back almost immediately. A new batch you ordered just came in yesterday, so it did not take long for you to try and figure out which one you would like to gift Childe’s… ‘client’. 

“Here,” you hand it to Paimon, who hugs the bag closely to her body. “Travellers need to be at their top shape, right? Hopefully this is something that will rejuvenate you on your journey.”

“This is too kind,” Aether begins, “thank you. We’ll make sure to great care of it.”

“It’s fine! Anyone that is associated with Childe are welcomed here, so long as they’re a nice person that is,” you laugh.

“You can bet we’re the nicest of the bunch!” Paimon exclaims. “I doubt he meets many nice people being a Fatui Harbinger and all!”

A… what? 

Sensing the sudden shift in your mood, Aether’s eyes widen and he tugs at the leg of his companion. “Uh, it was nice meeting you Y/n! Paimon and I will be off now, thank you for the package and tea!” The last statement is nothing but a blend of words toppled over each other as the two practically hurry out of the estate, door slamming behind them in their rush. 

Their abrupt leave didn’t impact you much though, because what did Paimon mean when she said ‘Fatui Harbinger’? Was… Ajax hiding something from you? Or is he Childe? What is the use for a merchant name, anyways? Businessmen don’t usually have identities to keep, but how dire could it be in his industry? After all, second names are only used when wanting to protect yourself from harm, to keep people from knowing who they truly were… a code name for… an organisation like the Fatui to identify them by.

You feel sick, and your hand weakly snakes up to cover your mouth, the other gripping the edge of the table for some sense of stability in your crumbling world. 

Memories come flooding back like a tidal wave, drowning you in the heaviness of the thoughts that clasp around your ankle like anchors. It’s hard to push them away, to ease your mind from the nauseating images that still haunt you to this day: the desperation of your family, the cries, the helpless feeling of being a mere pawn in the game of the Fatui. 

(It hurts to think that you never escaped. After finally surviving through years of hardship, you’ve returned right into the hands of those who caused it, and the thought reminds you of how defeatable you always will be. 

Ajax- Childe, has likely caused devastation similar to the one that wrecked your village years ago. He has blood on his hands, the same ones that have held you tightly against him and stroked your hair. You have kissed his lips- ones that command horrendous acts for others to see through. You love his heart, the same one that probably froze over in Snezhnaya years ago.

You are with someone who has inflicted pain and suffering onto others, and will continue to do so for years to come. But worst of all, you are with a liar, who now makes you question what is and isn’t true.)

Childe returns home at sunset, the rattling of his keys against wood causing fear to crawl down your spine. 

“I’m home!” His cheery voice calls from the front door, and to his surprise, you are sitting on one of the more uncomfortable couches that is merely for decor rather than functionality. “My love, why are you sitting there? There are far more comfortable seats for you-”

“Welcome home, Childe.” 

He pauses in his steps and feels the world stop momentarily. “Darling? What’s with the name?” The Harbinger tries to laugh, but really, you’re scaring him. Very much so. “Come on, you know you don’t need to call me that. Here, I brought back some food that I thought you would enjoy from-” 

“When were you going to tell me?” You’re standing now, slowly stepping towards him as your clothes flow with your every movement. Childe has no time to admire though, not when you and this swirling premonition in his gut is frightening him. 

“Tell you what?” The pit in his stomach already knows.

“Must you act a fool?”

“To what?” He continues because it’s his first instinct to lie. “Darling, please tell me what is troubling you.”

“Please don’t play dumb, I just need the truth, especially now out of all times, are you really a…” you plead, voice trailing off as you hold yourself back from shattering. “You’re not who I think you are, are you?”

“Why do you sound so sad? What happened?” He whispers, beginning to feel the back of his eyes burn as tears invade his eyes.

“A-are you really with the Fatui? A Harbinger, too?” The words fall from your mouth like anvils and suddenly the title that brought him pride and honour through the years dulls. His eyes widen, and the gulp of his throat is all you need to know. 

“I love you,” large, blistered hands desperately reach for you, aching to hold you still because he’s terrified. What if you slip through his fingers and run? What if you go somewhere he can’t follow? “I love you-”

“Just give me the truth, Ajax. I practically know, I just need to hear it from you,” you choke. The call of his name causes him to cave, a hesitant ‘yes’ slipping past his lips, crushing you with the weight of the truth. You cry first and like dominoes, his tears follow.

“Don’t cry,” he hiccups through his own sobs, hands locking around your wrists like bracelets. “I hate it when you cry.”

“Childe-”

“It’s Ajax to you,” the Harbinger pleads, grip tightening in desperation.

“I don’t know what you are to me anymore!” You retaliate, “this whole time, you’ve been lying to me when you know about what happened. I’ve told you everything, and you still decide to keep this from me!” You stumble away from him with more force than necessary, bumping into a table nearby and causing the vase that adorns it to drop. A shrill crack echoes through the room, and instantaneously, he rushes to your aid, asking if you’re hurt as pieces of fina china lay on the floor, water pooling around his feet. 

Mixed in the puddle, are the anxieties and worries that come fumbling out of his mouth. He then pretends like it doesn’t break his heart when you scramble away from him. 

“Why didn’t you tell me earlier?” You ask, voice strained and quiet. 

“If I had told you, would you have stayed, or would you have ran away?”

Your silence chokes him, filling up his airways with lead as he nervously awaits your answer. “I don’t know, but I wouldn’t have stayed.”

Childe’s expression glistens with sadness, so crystal clear that it makes his eyes gleam like diamonds deep from the Chasm. “I see.”

“-But I would have appreciated it hearing from you than someone else.”

“Then how did you found out?” He demands, forcing his tone to be soft. 

“If I tell you you’ll go and hurt them,” you murmur. “I don’t want that to happen.” 

With one look at you, it’s clear that you think Childe will hurt you too with the way you cower from him, as if he could ever lay a finger on you or even point a blade in your direction, but the vision hanging on his hip feels heavier than ever. It’s a haunting reminder of who he is, and what he is capable of. 

You feel miles away, how on Teyvat is he going to pull you back?

“Who are you really?”

“I’m yours-”

“-I’m not in the mood for your flirtatious quips,” you snap, hugging yourself. 

“But it’s true, I love you, Y/n, don’t you know?”

“No, no I don’t. I don’t know what else you’re lying about.”

“Oh come on,” he exasperatedly exclaims, “we’ve been together for so long, the day we met you met the real me, as Ajax, not Childe of the 11th Fatui Harbingers. What’s the big deal? Just because I follow the Tsaritsa doesn’t mean I’m not the same Ajax you know, Y/n, please.”

“It’s not only that you’re apart of the Fatui, Ajax- the world is grey, there are things I will never understand. I’m upset because you lied. Like you said, we’ve been together for so long, yet I’m only finding out about this now, so what else don’t I know?” Your voice breaks.

He takes a step forward, but you only take one back, maintaining the distance even though the Snezhnaya native wants nothing more than to just hold you, to secure his place by your side because what can he do without you? 

“What else are you keeping from me? What can I trust about you anymore? You say your real name is Ajax, but how can I know that?” 

Seeing you so upset, so glum, so devoid of the light that makes you you causes his heart to cease, his throat to dry, and sheer terror to flood through him. 

Childe’s seen the face of death, multiple times before, yet he’s never been this scared in his whole life. He’s losing you, he can feel it, but what can he do about it? What can he say that could possibly bring you back? (What good is a jester without the throne he was sworn to entertain? You can’t desert him, he will perform a thousand tricks if it enamours you into staying, will sacrifice more of himself to you if it means you will remain here, safe and sound in his arms.)

You are the reason he returns home everyday, to make sure that you are healthy, happy, and most importantly, that you haven’t left him without a word. If he had to, he would have killed for you, fought anyone and everyone until all that remained of him was the warrior heart that beat for you. But he could have never preempted this, nothing could have ever prepared for him to be the reason that you were leaving.

“I need some space,” you murmur, “to think this all through. Give me some time.”

“What? No,” murmurs the orange-haired. “No, no, no, we can talk about this, right?” 

“Talking won’t do anything, I need time alone.”

The idea of being away from you causes Childe to almost sink to his knees and succumb to the bones in his body that ache to beg at your feet to stay. The cry of your name is weak, but so very desperate as he looks at you through a blurry vision.  

You’re walking towards the front door, each step you take is another one away from him, away from the paradise that he’s been gifted. There are many ways he can stop you right now, his options are far from limited and although they are physical, they are all very effective, but he surrenders instead. Drops his weapons as he lets you go.

“How long?” Is all that Childe asks.

“I don’t know,” you murmur, hand reaching for the door knob. 

“No more than two weeks, please.” Childe doesn’t know if he can handle being away from you for even a day, let alone fourteen. 

“I’ll try.” 

“I’ll search all of Teyvat if that’s what it takes to bring you home,” he affirms, clearing through sobs just to get the words out. He doesn’t back down without a fight, that’s just who he is, so his next words are etched with certainty and clarity, hoping to pierce your defences with arrows of undying devotion. “That’s a promise.”

“I know.” 

You shut the door behind you.

© EARTHTOOZ 2023, do not steal, translate, repost my fics and do not recommend my fics onto any other site.

apologies if there is incorrect lore + if anyone is mischaracterised LOL i have only been playing genshin for like a month.

@fallenssun for u :>

[cupidseok]

Hello! Can I request about how riize acts differently when with you? I'm not too sure how to phrase it but something like a part of them only you can see? Sorry, I hope this makes sense to you. Thank you :)

the different sides of riize that they only show when with you

WARNINGS slight mentions of insecurity

AUTHOR'S NOTE hope this is what you meant anon 😭 thank you for requesting !

☀️ — SHOTARO

his serious side. sunshine taro is always smiling and laughing at just about anything ! whether he's feeling awkward or uncomfortable, he'll just giggle and hope the moment passes by quickly. he doesn't like it when the mood gets heavy and no one is smiling. however, when you attempt to bring up a serious issue and shotaro just laughs it off, it makes you upset :( he immediately notices how your eyes start to tear up and he embraces you in his arms. hushed apologies continuously fall from his lips as he rubbed your back, softly reassuring you that he’ll listen to whatever you have to say. that night, the both of you talk about the things that has been bothering you both. shotaro then understands the need to be serious in relationships in order for it progress further and he really hopes to never hurt you again.

🪨 — EUNSEOK

his cute side. our seemingly emotionless and unbothered stone ! eunseok almost always has a blank expression plastered on his face, it’s just in his nature to do so. although he’s someone who’s independent and stable, he still needs love ( even if he doesn’t say so verbally because he’s embarrassed to admit it ). so when you don’t give him enough affection and attention, he gets sulky. “what do you want,” you questioned eunseok, your eyes still glued onto your phone screen intently. he’s tugging on the sleeve of your shirt, “look at me please,” he nearly whines. when you finally divert your eyes away from your phone screen, you’re met with large boba eyes begging for your love and affection <3 he would rather die than let the other members of riize find out that the cool and collected song eunseok has to act cute to get his girlfriend’s attention.

👿 — SUNGCHAN

his jealous side. sungchan is someone who is confident in himself, he is clear of his own strengths and weaknesses and he tries his very best to make up for his weaknesses. he’s aware he looks good and he’s also proud of his body ! however, when he sees you laughing so happily while catching up with your childhood sweetheart, he suddenly doesn’t feel very confident anymore. he feels jealous; he thinks that if you both had met eariler, he’d be your childhood sweetheart instead. when sungchan sees the man lean one more centimeter closer to you, he can’t contain his overflowing jealously anymore and speed walks towards the both of you. “hi babe,” his arms wrap around your waist tightly, “i was waiting for you. who’s this ? aren’t you going to introduce him to your boyfriend ?”

🔐 — WONBIN

his protective side. wonbin who loves you so much, wonbin who cannot stand being away from you for more than 3 working hours, wonbin who is so protective of you ! he just cares for you so much, he can’t stand the thought of you possibly getting hurt, so he needs to be by your side 24/7 to ensure you’re safe and sound ( which you always are when with wonbin ). he gets slightly anxious when you aren’t around him, because what if a zombie apocalypse occurs suddenly and he isn’t there to be your knight in shining armour !! “wonbin i think in a zombie apocalypse i’d be more likely to protect you. also, i’m just going to a party with my friends. please let go of me,” you try your best to pry wonbin’s hands off you but all of your attempts were futile. “but what if the zombies get to you before i do ?”

💝 — SEUNGHAN

his insecure side. hong seunghan is and always will be your #1 hype boy ! he’s your admirer, your fan, your enthusiast, your supporter and much much more. this boy never shut ups about you and sohee thinks that he knows you better than yourself at this point ( sohee gets the brunt of seunghan’s talks about you unfortunately or fortunately ). seunghan could write an entire trilogy ( each with more than 10000 pages ) about how much he loves you if he wanted to. but !! when you reciprocate his energy and compliment him back, he gets so shy and his face turns an adorable shade of red. “you look so handsome here !” you look up from scrolling though seunghan’s selfie album and he just shyly shakes his head. “no, you always look so much better, my love,” seunghan buries his face in the crook of your neck to hide his flustered state. “what are you talking about ? my boyfriend always looks so handsome, he’s the prettiest boy i know.”

🗝️ — SOHEE

his authentic side. sohee is not someone who reveals his true personality easily to others. one may think that they know sohee well until they delve deeper and realise that they actually don’t know much of him. he’s just good at concealing the parts of himself that he deems vulnerable and sensitive. with you, however, sohee always feels at ease, as he doesn’t feel like he has to put up a facade. with you, sohee knows that you’ll love and cherish every part of him, even the parts that he himself dislikes, you’ll love all the same. he finds solace and warmth in your nurturing nature and seeks for your love and understanding of the true sohee !

💭 — ANTON

his attentive side. anton can sometimes be random and voices out his weird thoughts for you both to ponder over, you often wonder what goes on in his head but you usually just leave him to it. he’s also someone who is rather soft-spoken, so at times, it’s hard to figure out what he’s feeling or thinking. however, anton often greets you with pleasant surprises in the form of gifts, little things that you’ve mentioned in passing like how you’ve lost one side of your earrings or how you’ve run out of milk. you’re also often shocked when he tells you about your habits that you’ve never noticed yourself. “huh ? i do that frequently ? really ?” confusion evident in your voice. “yep, i’ve seen you do that more than a thousand times.”

© cupidseok — do not copy / repost / translate my works

[loveinhawkins]

Eddie is writing new song lyrics. Dustin discovers them on a random Saturday when they’re having pizza at Steve’s; Eddie asks Dustin to get one of his old campaign notes, and Dustin reaches for the wrong journal.

“Oh, not that one,” Eddie says with a shrug, but his eyes go a little thoughtful at the sight of it in Dustin’s hands. For some reason he pauses, and then he says, “You can still read it if you want, man.”

And Dustin stares at him, certain it’s a trick, because Eddie is notorious for ensuring that any potential Hellfire spoilers are kept under lock and key. But then he opens the book and reads.

And he gets it.

The lyrics are clever, because they hide under metaphor, apocalyptic imagery and all that stuff, but it clicks when Dustin gets to a verse about a tune echoing through a mall, ‘and it’s a song you know, you’ve known it all your life,’ and he’s suddenly thrown back to when he explained how Steve worked out the location of the Russian code, and Eddie was taking it all in, eyes as round as pennies.

Dustin sets down the notebook and says, “It’s about us.” It’s not a question.

Eddie nods. “Yeah.”

“You make it sound a lot more poetic than it actually was,” Dustin says.

But Eddie doesn’t tease back, just gives a contemplative little smile and says, “Really? I don’t think so.”

And that’s as far as they get in talking about it, because Eddie suddenly glances away, and his smile changes ever so slightly, gets softer around the edges. He turns back to Dustin and mouths, Look.

Dustin does. Steve has fallen asleep, curled up in the corner of the couch. His head is just barely resting in his hand, nodding forwards precariously every so often.

Dustin hears Eddie give an almost silent tsk, which is funny; he must have picked it up from Steve. He quietly goes over and moves Steve with a gentle touch until Steve’s head is resting comfortably against the cushions.

Steve murmurs wordlessly, eyes closed, then settles back into sleep.

Eddie catches Dustin’s eye; he mimes, Shh with a wink.

And something in the back of Dustin’s mind falls into place. …Huh.

There are days when Eddie has the journal and days when he doesn’t—he cycles through notebooks constantly, most of them having been started with a specific purpose before devolving into chaotic scribbles for anything and everything.

But this one stays consistent.

And whenever he does have the journal, he lets Dustin open it to any random page and read for as long as he likes.

It doesn’t exactly take Sherlock Holmes to figure out that a verse waxing lyrical about a protective soldier finally laying down his armour and resting is about… someone in particular.

And that makes Dustin wonder whether ‘and it’s a song you know, you’ve known it all your life’ isn’t just about a mechanical horse playing Daisy, Daisy. In fact, maybe it’s not about that at all.

He doesn’t mention anything, just says that Eddie’s writing is good when he hands the journal back over. It’s hardly a major compliment, except every time, Eddie says, “Thanks,” in an almost uncertain tone Dustin’s never heard before, like just hearing that’s really touched him.

And then one day Eddie loses the journal. Dustin doesn’t realise what’s wrong at first, just knows that Eddie is agitated, rooting around in the back of the van when Dustin sidles in for a ride home after school.

Dustin sees movement outside, and he looks up to see one of the substitute teachers who’s always got a stick up her ass standing at the school entrance. She’s holding Eddie’s journal.

“Uh, Eddie?”

“What?” Eddie snaps. Then he follows where Dustin is looking. “Oh Jesus fucking Christ.”

But he doesn’t let any of his irritation show when he hops out of the van and heads for the teacher.

Dustin knows Eddie talks a good game when it comes to sticking it to authority, all I’ll flip him the bird and so on, but there’s none of that arrogance now. Dustin can’t hear what they’re saying, but he can read the body language, the teacher’s tight-lipped smile, the way Eddie has crossed an arm over his chest self-defensively; he looks suddenly very young and unsure of himself.

The confrontation ends with the teacher handing Eddie the journal—more shoving it at him, really. Eddie gives her a curt nod before he heads back to the van, slamming the door shut as he gets inside.

He throws the journal in the back, and Dustin, who has carelessly destroyed countless textbooks, somehow finds himself saying, “Watch it, dude! You’ll rip it.”

Eddie doesn’t reply. He reverses out the parking lot and makes a turning for Dustin’s house, grinding his teeth.

The silence goes on until it’s unbearable, and Dustin tentatively asks, “What did she want?”

Eddie laughs, a nasty, thoroughly unconvincing sound. “Oh, ya know. Just returning lost property. Good fucking Samaritan.”

When he gets home, Dustin finds a note from his mom, that she’s over at his aunt’s and there’s some leftover pasta in the fridge. Dustin checks, and there’s easily enough for two.

He runs outside thankfully before Eddie has gone.

“You can’t expect me to be left in the kitchen unsupervised,” Dustin says. “I might burn it down.”

Eddie snorts. “From sticking pasta in the microwave?” Then he seems to hear himself and adds, “Yeah, somehow wouldn’t put it past you, Henderson.”

So they end up eating lasagne straight out of the dish together, playfully battling for the last slice like their forks are swords.

“What did she really want?” Dustin asks eventually. He can’t help but notice that Eddie had brought the journal in with him, keeps tapping his finger on the cover uneasily.

Eddie sighs, rubs a hand down his face. He nods down at the journal. “I’d left it in a classroom that some middle schoolers use for Drama Club. Apparently there’s some concerns about the appropriateness of—”

“That’s bullshit!” Dustin says. “Why would she even—”

“Dustin,” Eddie says very quietly. He closes his eyes. “You know why.”

And Dustin does. That’s why he’s so damn angry.

Because some of the lyrics (not all, but some), are love songs. And a good number of those are unambiguously from the point of view of a boy, speaking to another boy.

Eddie sighs again, presses a thumb into the inner corner of one eye. It looks like he’s warding off a headache. Dustin knows that he isn’t.

He could say I don’t care that you’re gay, but that doesn’t sound quite right; it isn’t about not caring, it’s about…

“You know I like you, right?” Dustin says.

Eddie gives a choked little laugh. He drops his hand, opens his eyes and says, with a faint smile, “No shit? I guessed you wouldn’t share lasagne with your mortal enemy.”

“True,” Dustin concedes. He presses on. “But I meant, like…” He bats Eddie’s hand away from the journal so he can tap it instead. “Like this. It’s all a part of you, and you’re really cool, so that means—like, it’s all cool. It makes you, you. You know?”

For a long moment, Eddie just stares at him. “You said you so many times, I don’t think it’s a word anymore,” he says, but he’s blinking a lot, and Dustin sees his lips quiver. “Um. Thanks.”

He still sounds sad which absolutely will not stand. Dustin gives him a few seconds of reprieve, before he launches at him with a karate style chopping motion.

Eddie chuckles. “You little shit!”

And they tussle until, breathlessly laughing, they’re both stretched out on the couch on their backs, side-by-side.

“You should let Steve read some,” Dustin suggests.

Eddie’s laughter trails off. “Mm,” he says, non-committal.

“I mean it!” Dustin recalls a verse he’d read only a couple of days ago, one that wasn’t dressed up in symbolism.

And you want to tell him you’re enough just like this darling, you always have been

“I don’t know,” Eddie says. “So far that stuff’s had an audience of one, and I think he might be a bit,” Eddie gestures with his thumb and forefinger, “biased. Being family and all.”

Dustin smiles, feels a proud little glow in his chest. “I don’t know how to tell you this, but I’ve seen Steve hiding love poetry books. Like he underlines that shit. It’s embarrassing.”

Eddie cackles. “Well. Some of my shit’s embarrassing so…”

Dustin claps his shoulder gravely. “I mean, I wasn’t gonna be the one to say it.”

Eddie pushes him nearly right off the couch; he pulls him back before he can fall. “Oh, fuck you.”

They’re quiet for a bit, and then Dustin suggests a movie, and when he’s putting the VHS in, he catches Eddie watching him with shiny eyes.

“Hey,” Eddie says. He smiles. “I love you.”

And God, it’s so much better hearing those words like this, with Eddie in front of him, safe and whole.

And Dustin doesn’t need to rush his reply this time. He picks up the journal and passes it to Eddie, careful of the binding.

“I love you, too,” he says, and the proud glow in his chest feels even stronger. “Now get writing, Shakespeare.”

[undiscovered-horizon]

"Four Crow Investigation II: Lovebirds' Outfox" - Kaz Brekker x Reader

[Four Crow Investigation]

☽ REQUESTS ARE OPEN ☾

Enjoying my work? You can leave me a tip on Ko-Fi

SUMMARY: Nina and the rest of "crow-vestigators" are not as inconspicuous as they think. Being a little too spiteful for your own good, Kaz and you string them along. What the amateur detectives consider "evidence" of an affair is actually a well-thought-out scenario.

WORDCOUNT: ~ 2.1k

>>Grishaverse-inspired playlist&lt;<

You stare with amusement as Wylan, Jesper, Inej and Nina are sitting around the table in a hardly inconspicuous manner. They’re leaning so close to each other, their bodies are covering their faces but you don’t need to read their lips or expressions to know exactly what they’re talking about. Meaningful glances, small nudges, animated whispering - none of that escaped your attention.

Then, you feel Kaz squeezing your hand in an attempt to shift your focus from the gossiping friends back to him. His eyebrows are slightly raised in a silent question.

"Do you think they know that we know that they know?" you ask, cringing at the word salad filled with repetitions.

"No," Kaz answers without hesitation. "Considering how long it took them to notice something so obvious, their observation skills are more underwhelming than I had originally thought."

The two of you glance towards your friends once more, left to only guess what tall tales they were making up. Observation skills, Kaz’s voice resounds in your head. Yes, they are good at noticing things they are desperately looking for, so, maybe, if they are looking for crumbs…

"Actually, I have an idea,” you begin in a hushed tone.  Kaz turns to look at you, his expression hardens the moment he notices your mischievous grin. “Up for a bit of roleplay?"

It’s been a wild week for the four Crows. They sat down at a corner table, across the club from you and Kaz talking about something by the bar counter. Absorbed by the conversation, you’re pouring a drink in a record-long time. Your hand hovers above the rum bottle as you’re closely listening to Kaz saying something. Then, to the surprise of the gossip club, you erupt in laughter.

Jesper frowns. “I’m telling you, there’s two of them. She gets the nice Kaz, we get the mean one.”

“No, the mean Kaz is still inside,” Inej refutes. “The nice one is making an effort to bury him but he’s definitely in there. Saw it myself.”

He turns back towards the group. Jesper puts his finger up in a warning gesture and speaks slowly: “Do not tell me Kaz Brekker is a knight in shining armour because there is no way I’m treating that as anything but a bad joke. I’m barely believing the stuff I’ve seen with my own two eyes.”

“N-no, there is some truth to that,” Wylan interjects. “I didn’t see him get angry,” he quickly adds, ”just… strangely protective.”

“So we can agree,” Nina says with expected giddiness, “there is passion in the perpetually grim Kaz Brekker.”

Jesper squints his eyes with suspicion. “I hate the fact that you used passion and Kaz in the same sentence but at the same time I’m curious why.”

“Oh, you’re going to love it!” She taps the table excitedly. “I’ll go first.”

╚ Nina’s Evidence ╝

You’re pacing around the office, jumping from one leg to another, shaking and fidgeting as much as you can without making much noise. While preparing to fool the Heartrender’s power, you’re ensuring that you look the part:

“Is this obscene enough?” you ask unbuttoning your shirt further. Tugging at your clothing, you’re making yourself look even more disheveled. Even the smallest sound outside the office door makes you jump as you’re impatiently waiting for a certain creek of one of the steps.

Kaz doesn’t answer. His watchful eyes are following your movements as he’s focusing on keeping his attention on the task at hand. That bright mind of his, however, fights relentlessly to memorize your unkempt look instead.

Not hearing him respond to your question, you turn around to look at Kaz. Leaning against the desk, he’s just staring at you with a quite inexplicable intensity. His unspoken passion is only making the voice in the back of your head louder: what if it was Him undoing my shirt?

But you stifle this thought. It’s not the time for this. Searching for distraction, you look at Kaz’s collar - the first two buttons are undone but they make him appear more sleepy rather than caught red handed at a moment of weakness.

“May I?” you ask, gesturing towards his garment.

“Go ahead,” he quietly answers. There’s a lot of trust in his lack of movement and calmness about your closeness.

Carefully, you grab the hem of his collar and open his shirt further, while making sure your fingers do not even graze the bare skin underneath, despite the urge sitting deep inside your abdomen. Then, you take a step back, examining his general state and whether it sets a believable scene. A proud smile creeps onto your face.

“You’re really enjoying this,” Kaz states.

“Actually,” you say as you lean against the table, fairly unaware that because of your disheveled clothing your cleavage is significantly more visible, “I’d be enjoying this little scheme a lot more if we were in fact being scandalous.”

Whether that was your objective or not, Kaz’s heartbeat picks up noticeably, his rogue mind flashing explicit images before his eyes.

A creek of stairs.

You and Kaz give each other a meaningful glance and you push the paperweight off the desk, knowing that Nina can hear it. The door swings open and you’re immediately in character, looking away with the most embarrassed expression you could muster.

Kaz clears his throat. “Is there a reason why you’re barging in?”

Nina looks a bit lost, still piecing together what she might have just interrupted. “I… uhm… I talked with Lizzie Hardy. She’s in, we can count on her.”

“Understood,” he says in a low, firm voice. “Now go. And learn to knock.”

A half-grin enters her face as she gets rid of any doubts as to what the two of you had been presumably occupied with before she entered. With a skip to her step, Nina throws a “You bet I will!” before leaving the office. She’s quite sure no one will have a better gossip than her.

╚ Wylan’s Evidence ╝

Wylan is startled by your yelp of pain, almost dropping the delicate vial in his hands. His focus immediately shifts to you, who is now frowning with your hand raised slightly above your head. A string of curses leaves your mouth as you check the wound again - yes, still there and still bleeding.

Right, bleeding.

“Are you okay?” he asks in a worried tone. Part of you feels guilty for fooling Wylan because of the sheepiness he wears most of the time but, on the other hand, he is part of the gossip girl club. This little scheme is just a consequence of his choice.

“Yeah, no problem. I’m a big girl, I’ll just wrap this and I’ll be fine,” you answer casually.

Pretending to look for something that can work as a bandage, you’re praying that Wylan can’t smell the cranberry preserve slowly dripping down your forearm. There’s an urge deep inside you to lick the jam, almost tasting the sweet and sour fruit in your imagination.

Kaz, who was waiting for the well-played-out yelp, rushes into the room with a grim expression. The moment he’s supposed to notice your injury, he makes a show of dropping his shoulders. He’s not saying anything, only giving short sighs and annoyed grunts as he reaches for a random rag laying around. 

“I’d advise against cutting off your fingers,” he says loud enough for Wylan to hear as he’s tightening the wrapped rag around your palm. "You need to be more ca-" Kaz cuts himself off, suddenly realizing he was about to use an off-limits word. "You need to pay attention to what you're doing."

Looking over Kaz’s shoulder, you see Wylan nervously glancing at the two of you out of the corner of his eyes. Jesper is going to hear world-shattering news in the next hour - on that you can safely bet any number of limbs.

╚ Jesper’s Evidence ╝

Too busy retelling what he had learned while following Lizzie Hardy, Jesper doesn’t notice the tiny signal you give Kaz while the three of you are walking through the streets of Ketterdam.

Air, cobblestone, a lost dog - it doesn’t matter. You stumble over something but ever watchful Kaz manages to grab you by the waist, preventing you from falling. To be honest, until this moment you weren’t completely sure this is going to work out because you never practiced this with Kaz. Well, you did, once, but the two of you got significantly distracted early on. So the plan to outfox Nosy Jesper was a leap of faith - literally and figuratively.

Jesper, the man in question, halted his story as he’s watching the unbelievable occurrence of Kaz having a caring reflex. For a moment he considers whether this wasn’t some kind of miraculous coincidence but on the other hand, the movement looked so natural and purposeful that it simply had to be deliberate.

Standing on your own, you look towards Jesper, who’s still staring at you and Kaz with furrowed eyebrows and his mouth slightly agape. “You were saying?” you coax him to continue as though nothing happened.

“Yes, right, the thing,” he stutters out as he’s trying to remember what he was talking about before seeing something so strange he’s questioning his own sanity.

╚ Inej’s Evidence ╝

Due to the late hour, or rather an hour so late it can be considered early, the club is deserted except for you and Kaz sitting by the bar. He’s silently watching your profile as you’re applying another layer of theatrical paint and makeup.

“Does it look realistic?” you ask for the hundredth time while examining the bruise in a small hand-held mirror.

“It’s good enough.”

You set down the mirror and look at him. To a degree, you know he won’t agree to your proposition but you try anyway, just to make sure:

“Maybe you could hit me?” you suggest. His expression grows colder. “Just for good measure. To really sell this,” you add in your own defense, as though there is a possibility of him retaliating for such a ridiculous proposition. Even when furious beyond imagination, you’ve heard him yell exactly once out of anger.

He leans closer towards you. Paradoxically, it’s you who is uncomfortable with the sudden intimacy but maybe the uneasiness is not due to the proximity but the chilling tension that has sprouted between the two of you. Kaz studies your expression for a moment, his jaw relaxes and clenches over and over again as he’s clearly pondering the earthiest way he can put his thoughts into words.

“I will never raise my hand against you,” his voice is quiet and wavering with emotions, “even if my life depends on it. So don’t ask again. Ever.”

Suddenly, you feel strangely small next to him as though Kaz is but a shadow that quickly grows larger as candlelight dims. “Right, sorry,” you answer awkwardly.

The door to the club opens with a creek and the nervous conversation has to be cut short. You cover your face with hands, having rubbed some chili seeds into your palms earlier. As the capsaicin reaches your nostrils and eyes, forcing yourself to cry is easier than ever. Pretending to be agonizing over something, you keep reminding yourself not to actually touch your eyes or nose.

You can’t see her face but you’re sure Inej is wearing a worried or confused expression and you’re quite correct in your guess - she walks towards you and Kaz with apprehension as though she’s still wondering whether she wants to intrude. Inej momentarily grows anxious, noticing the vibrant bruise on the side of your face.

Then, in a truly dramatic fashion, Kaz gets up from the bar stool and storms out of the club as you had agreed beforehand. While he’s passing Inej, she calls out to him:

“Kaz-”

But he’s quick to cut her off in a harsh voice:

“Not now, Inej.”

The door closes behind him with a slam and considering the state of the two of you, she prefers not to ask questions. It will be easier to sleep at night.

“They’re staring,” you inform Kaz while pouring him a drink.

“As far as I know, they have a reason to,” he answers, taking a sip of the beverage. His eyes are boring into you like his trying to look past your skin and bones, into your mind if not your very soul.

A wide smile brightens your face. You lean on the counter, face close to Kaz’s. Although it’s been some time, it still makes your heart flutter that he doesn’t move away. Perhaps it’s just his unreadable expression or maybe he really is unbothered by the proximity.

“To be honest, I enjoyed our little theatrics.” Smiling at him, your teeth glisten in the dim light inside the club.

“You make an impressive con artist, I have to admit.”

“Ah, forget the con part,” you wave your hand in dismissal. “It was entertaining, alright, but the best part was just spending time with you.”

Kaz almost chokes on his drink.

____ @moonstruckpoet @shara-ne @queenkalico

[xxblairexxss]

Who are you p.3

Pairing : Charles Leclerc x reader

Theme : Fluff

Word count : 2.2k

Part 1 Part 2

Is the country’s gem boy turning into your knight in shining armour? Was it a coincidence or on purpose?

I wasn’t really sure about this one but at least it’s something for the Charles’s girls after what happened last night. Anyway, CarLando healed my broken heart! 🥹🥰

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"What do you want?!" 

"I accidentally called you." Charles laughed, propping his chin on hand with the good angle of you rushing to get your makeup. "Wait, don’t end the call. I would like to see."

"There’s nothing interesting to see here." The pointy finger that was a second away from the end call button was drawn back as the phone was propped against your dressing mirror while you went back to your makeup to not argue any longer because you only had 40 minutes left to get ready.

"I would like to see if you would make it on time to work." He gave a smile when you glared while your hands went to clip your hair back. "You look pretty, though."

"I haven’t done my makeup yet." Your gaze went back to the camera when he didn’t say anything, only to find him staring—more like gawking at you with a silly-looking smile.

"Still pretty. I like how you do your hair." 

The morning was silence; no podcast from Linda regarding her ex-boyfriend because you didn’t know how, but the gem boy is staying on the video call with you, not so discreetly staring at you like a creep.

"Do you.." His voice came, halting the silence contest.

"Do you always get ready in silence? Like completely mute? You always had something to say. Even when I accidentally hit you, your mouth was still moving  nonstop." He saw you scowl and shrug before continuing his words. "Gotta keep on reminding you I didn’t hit you on purpose."

"Do you always drive fast? Because, you know, you drive fast cars for a living." You asked the question you had been wanting to ask ever since you knew he was a Formula 1 driver, thinking this could be the perfect time to ask the question since he didn’t look like he had anything to say other than looking at you. The foundation brush was pulled back a little so you could look at him.

"Not really. Sometimes, yeah, but I know my limit. Why?"

"I have this one colleague who loves to—sorry." The sparkle in your eyes was gone when you saw him looking away, seemingly distracted or unbothered with your attempt to talk.

"No, sorry. I always have trouble ripping this off. Finish the story. What happened to your colleague?" The newly opened protein bar in his hand was half gone as he took a bite.

"My colleague, he—" The coral blush in your hand made a soft thud sound against the dressing table as you burst out laughing.

"Yeah, that’s funny." His sarcastic laugh pulled you back to your senses as you went back to the blush, no longer in the mood to talk.

"Okay, okay! I’m sorry. But let me join you laugh! What happened to your colleague?" Another chunk of the protein bar was bitten off as he fixed his way of sitting, eyes still on you.

Though it was early in the morning and he had no obligation to wake up this early, he was listening to every story of yours, laughing whenever you laughed and smiling when he found you got carried away with your emotions. It was adorable to him.

"Are you going somewhere?" You asked, and the cap of the MAC lipstick was closed back as you pressed your lips together.

"Me? Nah, I’m going back to sleep after this." Charles replied, his eyes going back to the second protein bar.

"Am I keeping you up? I’m almost done." You stood up, getting your files, bag, and phone still in hand as you headed out of the house. "You can go back to sleep!"

"Do you have any plans tonight?" His voice came again through your phone speaker while you put on your heels.

"Yeah! I’m going out." The key pass was slipped into the bag as you headed to the elevator.

"With who?"

"My colleagues! They asked me to join them for a night out. It’s my first night out with them." After months of moving here, you would have thought you would get at least one friend from being born loquacious, but the language barrier set a limit to your friendliness.

"Where?" Charles asked.

It felt like being interrogated by your parents. The questions sounded like they were subtly wrapped in worry, but you were pretty sure he asked because he wasn’t expecting you to have friends. "Tch, it’s not your problem."

"Y/N, where?"  His stern voice cut you off from your bantering mood.

"Jimmy’z! Got to go. Bye!"

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"Y/N! How will you go home?" You turned back, a little lightheaded from going over your limit today.

"Me? I’m going to walk! It’s not that far." You giggled, having been fully influenced by the alcohol.

"See you next week!"

"Bye!" You had your hand cave around your lips as you shouted back before waving to your colleagues before a soft thud from your back pulled your eyes away. "Oh, my bag." You mumbled, bending down to get your handbag that slipped off your arm, and let out another giggle.

There wasn’t anyone else in the street. The light barely shined bright enough to light your way. The time on your phone stated it was 15 minutes past midnight. It was a little scary for you to still be out here in a foreign country with a language you could barely speak at this hour, but at least you wouldn’t bump into strangers on your way home.

"Hey!"

"Hey!"

You stopped, frowning, but still kept your gaze straight.

"You! The girl in the dark blue dress!"

The black-coloured sedan stopped by the side of the ride, moving a little as it copied your pace. "Me? Oh, hello!"

"Where are you going?" The window was rolled down as he peered from inside the car.

"I’m going home!"

"Do you want me to send you home?" The car was still left on, but he had hopped off and strode all the way to approach you.

"Oh, it’s okay! I can go home myself." His grip on your arm stunned you a little, but you were too drunk to fight back.

"I live nearby. It’s okay. Let me send you home."

"Oh, you live nearby?" He nodded to the question, which made you squeal in delight. "Okay, sure!"

The guy wasted no time and helped you get into the car while you kept on swaying, leaning against his body. You excitedly got in the car, thinking you were so lucky to not have to walk all the way home, when you realised your bag had fallen off, left at the side of the road where you were standing earlier.

"Wait, my bag." Groaning, you pushed the body that was hugging you earlier just so you could pick it up, but someone snatched it quicker than you. "Oh? It’s my bag! Give it back! Give it back, asshole!"

"I know! I know, it’s your bag, Y/N! Geez." Charles winced, and his free hand went to grab your wrist to stop you from hitting his chest.

"Charles Leclerc? Wait, you knew her?" 

Charles switched his gaze from you in his arms to the guy who was standing at the car earlier. The guy who made him run like a crazy guy. Long gone was the smug on the face that he saw earlier, the guy be looking surprised to see him there.

"She actually came with me, so I’m taking her home." He replied, remaining calm with a smile while you leaned on him, mumbling whatever words he could barely hear.

"I thought she came alone; I was going to send her home. I’ll get going then." Charles saw it in the way he clenched his fist as he walked back into the car. Frustrated, probably, but he was too stressed to say anything because at least you were safe. No cut, no scratch.

"You scared me to death, Y/N." He heaved a sigh, eyes shut, while he tightened his grip on you. You had stopped punching, hitting him as he gave the handbag away, so he knew you might be falling asleep, more positive from your calm wave of breathing. His heart was still beating like crazy, too scared to imagine what would happen if he didn’t choose to go with his gut feelings tonight.

"I’m sleepy.." You whined, mustering every strength to push yourself away from the embrace so you could make your way home.

"I know. I know, Y/N. Let’s get you home." He spared no chance and picked you up as you leaned your head on his shoulder. It was a good thing there weren’t many cars or people on the road at this hour. Not that he didn’t want to be seen with you. In fact, he was actually happy to see candid pictures of you and him taken by the fans being uploaded on the Internet, but if it were at this hour, it would have caused everything but something beneficial, knowing very well you were here for an internship. He didn’t want to ruin anything involving your career or reputation.

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He jumped back when you sat up as soon as he put you on the bed. It was a good thing he managed to find your access card in the bag, or else he would have no other option than to bring you back to his apartment, and he was pretty sure if he did that, he might wake up the next morning barely alive because he wasn’t sure if you would remember what happened, and if you didn’t, he didn’t think he would have enough time to explain before your fist landed on his eye.

"Y/N, where are you going?" He grabbed your arm as you stood up, your head still too heavy for you to walk straight.

"My makeup!" You stumbled your way to the bathroom while the driver followed behind. His grip on your arm still stayed, though it went loose once you leaned your body against the sink.

He laughed, flipping open the packaging where it stored your makeup removed pad after seeing you struggling with it, and leaned against the sink, his arms folded as he looked at you in the eyes.

"Stop looking at me!"

"I have eyes. What am I supposed to do with it other than staring and judging  people?" The driver leaned closer, now with a smirk plastered on his face as he saw you getting flustered.

"Okay, but I don’t need you to judge me right now."

"You are red." You took a step back when he moved his face even closer.

"I always get hot when I’m drunk." The cotton pad in hand was thrown into the small bin as you pushed him aside so you could wash your face.

"No. I don’t think so. I think you are red because you like me." He shrugged, and before you could walk out of the bathroom, he pulled you back by your waist, making you crash back into his body.

"Let me go! And I don’t like you. Maybe a little, but not much." The smirking face that was staring at you intensely with his arms around your waist made your knees weak. You would have dropped down on your knees here on the cold floor if he hadn’t held you up.

"Don’t do me like that anymore, Y/N. I’m serious." 

You were going to step away from his embrace, but his words and his shift of tone snatched your full attention. "Do you what, driver?"

"Don’t scare me like that." The truth was, he didn’t have any other plans tonight. He was supposed to be in his apartment, playing truck simulator with George, but something in his heart kept on whispering, forcing him to head to Jimmy'z, and when he got there, he saw a guy tugging on your shoulders with a smug face that told him he had no other intention than to take advantage of your state. He nearly tripped; his face nearly fell straight on the path as he saw you getting in the car without any second thoughts, with a freaking smile on your pretty face, but thank God, your handbag slipped off your arm the last second before the car door closed. He didn’t know what he would do or how far he would go if he had to chase after you in the stranger’s car.

"Did I scare you?" You blinked, unable to grasp what he was trying to say.

"A lot. I kept on thinking about what would happen if I was a second late." His gaze on the bathroom floor was brought up to yours, and he ended up smiling after seeing your clueless expression.

"Would a hug help?" You were a little lost, actually, because you were so sure you didn’t do anything. Except for being blessed meeting someone who offered to send you home for free, but he looked fully disturbed by that, so you extended your arms, offering a hug.

"Yeah. A hug from you would help a lot." He brought his body closer, engulfing you in his arms, where he finally let his wall down. Charles brought one hand on the back of your hair, stroking it while he dipped his face on your neck, smiling when he felt the soft pat on his back from your hand.

"Thank you for taking me home." You mumbled against his shirt before breaking the hug.

"I’ll call you tomorrow. Get enough rest. I would like to hear your annoying little chatter about your first night out with your colleagues." He sent a reminder before taking his jacket back and heading out of the apartment. You were expecting a smirk and a cocky look on his face from earlier, but as he turned back, looking at you, you saw a smile. A genuine one that tugged at the strings of your heart.

✧.* tag list for p.3 @styles-sunflower @needtokeepfeelingsincheck @lexiecamposv @formulas-bitch

If your usernames were crossed, meaning I can’t tag you! Let me know if you would like to be removed or to be added to the tag list! Or if I missed anyone!

[jaded-jezz]

Don’t Trip

Another Jack one-shot obvs

Please do not repost, reblogs are appreciated.

Jack Champion x F!Reader

☁︎Fluff

summary: Just Jack being a gentleman without realising.

I’ve been super excited to go to Jack’s movie premier ever since he auditioned. It wouldn’t be our first event as a couple but this time it seems as if the entire world knows about it as it’s no longer our secret.

When we posted our anniversary photo dump on Instagram and some sickeningly cute TikToks, our followers have risen dramatically and the response has luckily been way more positive than we expected. We didn’t realise that our fan base overlapped so of course they were all ecstatic when finding out their suspicions were correct.

Jack and I were in our taxi queueing for our joint entrance onto the carpet. Both our palms were sweating yet Jack gripped mine tighter when I tried to move to wipe it.

“Are you nervous Champion?” I jest

“Me? Pfff no way” he replied before widening his eyes to show he was lying, “I’m petrified”

We look into each others eyes and before we know it we are being told to leave and expose our long kept secret and safe privacy to the flashes of cameras.

He doesn’t let go of my hand once, in fear that he may lose me to the crowds of interviews trying to get the first interview of the new hot couple. It makes me smile to myself as although I’ve done many premiers before, he still keeps an eye on me.

We move to the line of photographers and I check for the marks on the floor directing each celebrity to the correct angle and lighting for their photos. Jack goes in first and I follow once he moves up the marks.

I have to pick up my dress due to the weight of the detailed beading, lace and tulle as I walk confidently to the first space. The awkwardness hits me as I try to kick around my dress to stop the train from bunching up so much as I want the cameras to pick up on my teams hard work.

Suddenly an angel from heaven, my knight in shining armour comes to the rescue.

I barely hear Jack’s voice over the shouts, flashes and the swelling of stress in my ears but it’s loud enough to start to bring me back to earth and to a calmer state.

I look down to see he has crouched to start to straighten out the long floral train. He glances up at me and gives me a wink as he feels me look over my shoulder at him.

“Don’t worry, I got you!” He laughs as he try’s to check my face for any signs of continuing worry.

I offer my hand and pull him round next to me so that we can have photos together. The paparazzi go even crazier, as if Jack’s previous action didn’t have a loud enough reaction.

We laugh at the eruption and a strong wave of serenity washes over me as I lean in closer to my boyfriend.

“You look so stunning that I had to help you, I hope you don’t mind,” Jack leant into the side of my head. “You are a saving grace Jack, and thank you” I whisper back.

I want to thank everyone who like/reblogged my first post, it means a lot. I did not expect any interaction at all so thank you!

My best friend helped me to check over this so if its bad, blame it on her plz and thx!

Requests are open, so send them no matter how big or small you idea is.

Please do not repost this, reblogs are appreciated.

[arc-misadventures]

NNN : D

Hana: Hahahaaaaa~! I manage to make my blond himbo lose his stupid NNN challenge!

Angela: Blond himbo? Hana dear, you better not be speaking of my husband. Because if so, I will kill you, reserect you, and then kill you again, over, and over again until I am satisfied… understood?

Hana: Ha! Good joke, Angela.

Angela: …

Hana: G-Good joke…?

Angela: …

Hana: Okay, hold on, you’re married?!

Angela: Yes, yes I am.

Hana: …

Hana: For how long?!

Angela: Lets see… I got married when I was nineteen… So my husband, and I have been married for twenty years now~!

Hana: Twenty years?!

Angela: Yes. Our wedding anniversary was a few months ago, just after our daughter’s nineteenth birthday.

Hana: You have kids?!

Angela: Yes, eight wonderful children~!

Hana: E-Eight kids?!

Angela: Mostly Twins, and triplets. Seven girls, and one son if you’re curious.

Hana: Eight kids…?

Hana: …

Hana: Honestly, you don’t look like you’ve even had one kid…

Angela: I shall take that as a compliment.

Hana: W-Well, I’m not going after your husband. I didn’t even know you were married! A-And, he’s a year younger than me, not some guy in his forties!

Angela: Very well. So tell me… how did you make your ‘blond bimbo’ loose this, NNN challenge thingy?

Hana: Uhhh… M-Mostly by accident…

Angela: By accident; what kind of accident?

Hana: …

Hana: I got stuck in, Tokki…

Angela: What do you mean by ‘stuck?’

~~~

Hana: Oh no…

Hana: I’m stuck…

Hana: Grrrr! Come on! I just gotta wiggle myself out of hereeeeeeee…!

Hana: …

Hana: Shit…

Hana: Tokki! Open up! Let me gooooo!

Hana: …

Hana: HELLLLLP! Someone one, anyone! HELP!

: Hana? Hana, did you call for…? The hell?

Hana: Oh thank gods you’re here! Can you get me out?

: How did this happen?

Hana: I didn’t get out fast enough, and it closed on me. Can you help me?

: Isn’t there an emergency release button you can press?

Hana: Yes, but my arms are pinned, and I can’t reach it! There’s another one on the outside, can you hit the button for me?

: That depends…

Hana: On what?

: Can I… Can I tap that ass first…?

Hana: …

: …

Hana: Yes.

: Awesome!

(RIPPPP!)

: Let’s begin~!

~~~

Angela: I see… Well, it looks like everything work out in the end.

Hana: Oh it worked out; It really worked out~!

Angela: Well, I’m glad for you. But, I didn’t know you were dating anyone, who is he?

Hana: He’s a, Huntsmen-in-training. His name is, Jaune Arc.

Angela: Jaune… Arc…?

Hana: Yeah, Jaune Arc. Short, sweet, rolls of the tongue, ladies love it~!

Angela: Tell me… Does he have blue eyes, is about six foot five with white armour, and uses a longsword…?

Hana: Yeah, he does… How did you know?

Angela: He’s… He’s my son…

Hana: …

Hana: Oh fuck…

///

I don’t know why, I just find this pairing interesting.

[nc-vb]

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐙𝐞𝐧𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐔𝐧𝐭𝐨 𝐀𝐧𝐢𝐦𝐮𝐬, oo. 𝐮𝐧𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐳𝐞𝐩𝐡𝐲𝐫

Time is not prejudiced. It gives and takes as the ordinance of life sees fit. Time begets loss and fear, but it also spawns warmth. After centuries worth of time having passed for you, you learn that time also sires impatience, and does not wait for a lost soul to find their way. Time carries on, and flows likes the current of a river. Ironically, so, too, does blood.

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 • jing yuan x reader, blade x reader, dan heng & reader (no pronouns used this chapter)

𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 • 18+ (mdni), no explicit smut but suggestive & insinuative; partially beta'ed.

𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬 • can be read as a gn!stand-alone fic! • extended lifespan reader; reader is the records’ master for the Seat of Divine Foresight; allusions to ptsd. • this chapter is introductory and is meant to be vague toward the true plot... the real story begins in the official first chapter. • this originally had a different title, "it ain't the heat, it's the humility" before being reformatted for the series.

𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 • seat of divine foresight npcs, yanqing

𝐰𝐜 3.1k

zephyr -> a soft, gentle breeze.

𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 • 𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬' 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 • 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐨𝐧𝐞

It didn’t matter where you’d tried taking refuge. Your apartment, or your friends’; the streets of the Luofu, or the various fountains littering them; the Exalting Sanctum’s new little dessert parlour with the delicious ice treats, or the sparse number of trees along the way to it. Shelter is far and few, you’d been quick to learn, and none of them with enough of the protection you’d been hoping to find since two days ago when the heatwave began.

It’s hot. Too hot. Too hot for your thoughts to thread themselves into proper sentences whilst on auto-pilot. No, it takes your entire conscious focus for you to even complain about the heat, and even that works up a sweat. It’s disgusting. I’m disgusting, you remind yourself as another thick bead of sweat rolls down your neck and into your shirt. So gross. No matter how many cool showers you’d taken that only had your water bill racking up in dues, no matter how popsicles you’d indulged in, or how many times you’d stared at one of the public fountains in longing and wished it could be a public pool, instead, there’d still been no means to an end when it’d came to such brutal weather.

In your many decades of life, you don’t recall it ever being this hot aboard the Xianzhou Luofu. Perhaps the Sky-Faring Commission might have a little historical insight on record temperatures, but putting your curiosity aside, looking into something like that to try and distract yourself from the current temperature? The thought exhausts you.

This only leaves you with one other option, one you’ve left as your absolute last resort, one you know will free you from the pain and suffering plaguing the Luofu and instead, tethering you to another kind of pain— returning to your post within the walls of the Seat of Divine Foresight, where the cooling system had shut down due to overheating. When it did, you conveniently disappeared without a word. Now that it’s fixed, really, you have no excuse to not return to your post.

It’s just unfortunate that it’d dawned on you two days later, the fact that you never told anyone there, including the Arbiter-General you worked directly alongside. You didn’t tell him, either, that you’d abruptly chosen to go absent without any official leave taken on account of the weather.

How does he do it? Those thick, tight clothes, that heavy armour, his thick, heavy hair— in this heat? He must have been suffering, too, you realize much too late. And I left my post and all of my work for him to… Crap.

Your pace quickens, your agility proving surprisingly capable today as you weave in and out and around the crowds littering the Exalting Sanctum until you’re finally able to break into a run. Why is it so busy today?! Why are they all out in the sun?! Are they insane?! Have they all collectively been struck by mara?! Go find shade or shelter! Maniacs! Get out of my way!!

“Chiyan!” you shout from the other end of the dock, not only startling the messenger of the Divine Foresight, but the patrons passing behind you.

Chiyan huffs, shaking his helmeted head at you as you approach.

“And here I thought you’d quit,” he dares to muse during your heat-inspired bad mood.

Nearly gasping now, you tug at the neck of your shirt to puff air down it. “I do not have the energy to tell you off right now, so move it.”

“Yeah, I bet I can guess why. You look…” He just shakes his head again. “Anyway. You’ve got great timing.”

“T-The cooling system is working again, right? That was true?”

“Should’ve placed money on that bet,” he grumbles. “That’s right. The Seat of Divine Foresight is back to its former, air-conditioned glory.” He steps aside. “Please, after you. Go on— go enjoy working in comfort, and out of this heat.”

You nod once, extremely curt with the gesture, and without guilt when you speak your farewell.

“Yeah. I will. See ya.”

For decades, you’ve said this, sworn this, but after the hell you’d gone through over the past fourty-eight hours, you now promise to never complain about the colder seasons, nor take for granted the refreshing chill they brought aboard the Luofu. You can simply throw more layers on then, but in the summer? Not like I can peel off my skin to cool down.

The noise of relief you make upon the doors of the Seat of Divine Foresight shutting behind you is loud, borderline obnoxious, and, if your coworkers were any kind of honest about it, downright pornographic. They quickly avert their eyes and return to their work and their conversations before you can catch their stares.

The difference between the temperature of this room versus even the hallway leading to it is painfully staggering. It seems like they’ve chosen to completely divert the path of the cooling system to the main chamber, you note, glancing up and around you. It’s probably only until they can fix the entire system, but it looks like even the employees of the smaller offices are working here today.

To your disappointment, so is the General. And it’s your bad fortune that it isn’t his usual hologram self.

Despite being on the complete other end of the room, he notices you right away, and the two of you lock gazes. His conversation with Qingzu ends with an abrupt raise of his hand and a brief apology— she bows away, descending the staircase to join Yong Hai and Yong Nian.

I suppose it’s time to play it on thick, you think, before clearing your throat with a harsh cough.

“General,” you call out in exasperation, voice echoing across the hall as you exaggeratedly stagger past the guards with a wave of greeting. “Generaaaaal.” They bow in return, a little too low to be considered a normal sign of respect for someone in your modest position, until you hear a snicker slip out from under one of their helmets and realize they’d been trying to hold in and hide their laughter. You pause, lips parting as if to speak, but you keep in character.

“General Jing Yuaaaaaan.”

From his spot atop the helm, Jing Yuan smiles small and sweet at your dramatic, child-like display put on just for him— the fact that the rest of the chamber gets to experience it for themselves today makes them lucky, as there are only two instances where you, the Divine Foresight’s - normally - dutiful records’ master would display yourself like this. The first instance is just this— you’ve done something wrong and at the very least, you know what it is and are now hoping that sucking up to the boss will help you work it out. The second instance? The circumstances aren’t so different. But it takes place in the privacy of your shared abode, instead of his office.

Your trudging across the floor of the massive strategy-slash-starchess board is squeaky, the soles of your shoes catching on the smooth tiling until you reach the General.

“General Jing Yuan,” you whine, still bothering to salute to him. “It’s hot.”

He chuckles, tucking his arms behind his back as he moves to descend the staircase closest to you to reach you.

“I figured that could be the only explanation behind your sudden disappearing act,” he says, still smiling. “Two whole days you were gone! Imagine my surprise when it’d been Qingzu to tell me of your absence and not you.”

You, you easily infer of him, My partner. Not just my subordinate.

You’ve heard from other outworlders and their testimonies that relationships between mortals in comparison to relationships between those with extended lifespans greatly differ. The flow of time is easily the heaviest hitter— average mortal lifespans range between eighty to one-hundred years old. As life expectancy goes for most those aboard the Xianzhou Luofu, each calendar days’ time differs, too— mortals, Foxians, and those native Xianzhou all have different clocks that tick within them.

Being on the "older" side of the spectrum of age immortality, you tend to fall into dissimilar habits, as opposed to the ones your aging friends do, such as forgetting to send a message back to someone, or informing them of an absence?

Unfortunately, this is why the Arbiter-General still smiles at you, why his response had been just barely teetering on passive aggressive. You know you haven’t heard anything bad from him yet, that the only reason you’ve yet to be chastised as a repeat offender is because the room remains full of other Divine Foresight employees. To the General, you aren’t just one of his most trusted allies. You’re also his lover. And to not know where and not hear from his lover even once within fourty-eight hours after existing together for so many years, you realize that you’d be agonizing over it, too.

Immediately, the act drops, your eyes widening down at your feet.

Oh, god. That’s definitely so much worse than me not saying anything as his subordinate.

“Jing Yuan.” Lip pinched between your teeth, you look to him and muster as much of an apologetic look as you can. “I’m sorry.”

A dark eyebrow raises at you inquisitively. “For?”

You bite back a huff—you already know what for. So, you decide to list everything but what he wants to hear.

“For disappearing without a word to anyone. For not requesting time off first. For not finishing my duties before leaving. For abandoning my post for two days.” To hide the smirk that’d begun to twitch onto your face at the sight of his expression growing more and more stolid, you bow your head, similar to the guards at the entrance to the chamber. “I’m sorry, General.”

He hums, and not thoughtfully. Strangely, you no longer feel his eyes on the back of your head, and by the time you raise it to find out why, you see him stalking back up to the helm.

His timing couldn’t be more perfect when a loud, mechanical groan suddenly sounds throughout the room.

“Ah!” Jing Yuan exclaims, seemingly agreeing with your wordless sentiment— he peers down at you where you stand steeping in your petulance. “The second stage of the cooling system must have kicked in. Friends,” he calls across the hall. “I do believe you should be able to return to your original chambers now; no need to linger and loiter around here any longer. In fact, how about you all take an extra break today? Starting now. A gift, on account of this weather, of course.”

Thanks and bows of appreciation are quick to be thrown to the helm where the Arbiter-General stands; unfortunately for you, your coworkers have never been ones to stare a gift horse in the mouth, and flee out the doors as quickly as they’d earlier arrived. Maybe you had no trouble playing with the General, but they’d wanted no part whatsoever in it— the look Qingzu throws over her should at you as the last person to leave confirms this.

Ah. Maybe I shouldn’t have been so petty, after all.

The sound finally settles into a dull hum, barely noticeable over the doors to the chamber slamming shut.

“Those were a lot of apologies,” Jing Yuan points out. Looking to the helm, you find him wearing a perfect poker face. “Are you sure you didn’t miss a couple?”

You sigh at him, hands on your hips now.

“You already know that I did, and you know that I did it on purpose, too.”

He matches your attitude with the crossing of his arms.

“And?”

“… and I’m sorry if I made you worry by not telling you where I’d gone,” you mumble.

“What was that, dear?”

Your cheeks burn. “I’m sorry if I made you worry. I didn’t mean to not tell you. I know that with this whole… Stellaron thing, you might’ve been busy. I didn’t want to distract you by telling you I wasn’t feeling well.”

“______. I’d want to know if you got even a paper cut.”

You can’t help yourself when a laugh bubbles up and out of your throat.

“We both agreed that we wouldn’t let things like this affect how we perform our duties, right? This is a perfect instance of that agreement; I asked you to set these boundaries with me for a reason.”

“Reporting on our well-being is much different than perhaps sending the other a picture of what we ate for lunch.” He scratches at his chin. “Although, I did want to send you what I had for mine today. I would have liked to have shared it with you.”

“Jing Yuan…” Quickly, you clamber up the steps to stand before him. “I love you with every fibre of my being. I promise not to do something so thoughtless like this again, but please… I need you to properly honour our agreement. I don’t want to have to afford anymore missteps in this lifetime. Not after… no… I-I can’t. Never again.”

To either side of your face, the General’s hands rise, claiming them in his cool palms. You sigh, your own coming up to hold them to you.

“You were on the front lines for a long time, ______,” Jing Yuan reminds you. “Even before the incident. And when we live as long as we do, the memories won’t simply fade away with time.

“I understand how you feel, exactly how you feel. And when I say to you what I am about to say, please know that I don’t wish to diminish or dismiss those feelings, either.” He thumbs your cheeks, pulling you closer into him, lips ghosting the crease between your brows and smoothing it down with his affection. “Even when I don’t hear from you, you are always on my mind. And for as long as we’ve been together, that has never changed. If you ever find yourself burdened by those feelings, I wish to share the load with you. Paper cuts and all.”

“Even over something as silly as my impromptu two day vacation…?”

“Fu Xuan did mention there’d been a nice breeze over at the Divination Commission, last I spoke to her. If only my love didn’t forget about me in their search for some shade… Surely, I could have invented some reason to send you over there…”

“Ah, so a guilt trip and not a work trip, then, huh?”

“No, not at all.” You shoot a playfully disapproving glance to the man. For a moment, he simply stares back, his one unshielded eye sparkling with obvious mischief. Little warning is given when he steps toward you again, hands reclaiming their rightful place at your waist. Fingers curl into the loops securing your belt and tug your hips to meet his.

Your cheeks instantly heat at the contact, at the knowing glance he dares to send you at such close range.

“You know,” he says, breath fanning your face. “We could always try building up a different kind of sweat— you know. To take your mind off the heat.”

Jing Yuan doesn’t give you a chance to answer, instead sliding his one hand from your side to curl beneath your right ass cheek and hoist you up into the air. Instinctively, you’d raised your legs to curl around his middle as he’d turned to carry you toward his seat. If this is my punishment, I accept it gratefully and gracefully, you think, almost dizzyingly.

“That break you sent the others on was more for you than it was for them, wasn’t it?” you ask him, hand curled around his neck as he lowers you onto the cushion. Without missing a beat and with a single hand, Jing Yuan’s fingers are deft to remove your belt and unbutton your trousers.

“Naturally, they assume their “dozing general” merely wants to take another nap…” He taps your thigh, encouraging the lift of your bottom. You shift your weight into your palms and rise, and he removes your pants to rest around your ankles. “… or that I’ll be reprimanding you.”

“I suppose it’s a relief that they’re aware you don’t pick favourites around here. Well, the exception being Yanqing. He’s everyone’s favourite, after all.”

“Not yours, I’d hope?”

“Definitely mine.”

“And why not me?” Still hovering above you, he bends over to nose at your throat— you shudder, unable to stop yourself. “Considering how I have you… and how I’m about to have you. Tell me that I’m not your favourite?”

You scoff lightly at him, even when he presses kisses deep into your throat, strong against your jawline, and gently against your lips.

“W-With how long you insist on teasing me like this…? W-Who likes a hot dinner served cold—” you’re cut off by his tongue prodding against your lips; you part them, eagerly, hungrily, the joke about eating somehow making the craving to have him have you even stronger, more obnoxious the more he makes you wait.

He is barely gentle now, showing little restraint in how his tongue plunders the inside of your mouth. Jing Yuan is a giver and a taker, of pleasure and of oxygen— your gasps are sharp, not being given a chance to breathe, a chance to win whatever battle he’d entered with you. “Jing Yu—” the butterflies that swim in the pit of your stomach are traitorous in his repetition; they know how good he makes you feel, strictly in the way he takes your breath away with each kiss, each suckle and swirl of his tongue around yours, each stroke of his calloused hands sliding to grip the fat of your thighs, and they make you weaker and weaker with each ministration.

With a final swipe of his wet muscle across your spit-soaked and kiss-numbed lips, he draws away, eyes lidded and panting.

“G-General Jing Yuan,” you rasp almost chidingly. Your hand is quick to brace him away from you; he chuckles at your weak attempt, instead returning it to where it once kept you entirely upright. You huff, every inch of your skin flaming and dewy with a thin layer of sweat. I just finally cooled down, too…

“You’re going to need that there,” he tells you, rising to his full height. He tugs on his own trousers to give them a generous amount of slack before kneeling down before you, nestled between your already shaking thighs. “We still have twenty minutes, after all. You’d better get comfortable.”

© nc-vb 2023 please don’t repost! reblogs & comments are always appreciated.

[horrorhot-line]

rame

(adj). something that is both chaotic and joyful at the same time

➵ pairing: saiki kusuo/female! reader

➵ word count: 5k

➵ genre: fluff? 

➵ warnings: none

➵ summary: you come over for new years eve and plan to spend the day with saiki and his parents, only to be ambushed by teruhashi and kusuke,- the latter acting as if he knows something you don’t. saiki’s not happy, for more reasons than one. 

➵ masterlist  (requests are open)

➵ previous part - all hallows eve

I DO NOT CONSENT TO MY WORK BEING POSTED BY ANYONE ELSE ON ANY PLATFORM

before you read: ‘saiki telepathically communicating with reader’ ‘reader thinking or interacting with saiki through thoughts.’ “saiki talking without moving his mouth.” “saiki talking using his mouth.”

notes: this post was requested by someone but i can’t for the life of me find the request anywhere ;-; i know a lot of you were looking forward to saiki having his protective moments so i hope you enjoy!

➵ ➵ ➵ ➵ ➵ ➵       ➵ ➵ ➵ ➵ ➵ ➵

Before you even had the chance to ring the Saiki household's bell, the door abruptly opened. Of course, it was expected that a psychic like Saiki would have seen you coming. You couldn't help the grin that took over your features, making the corners of your eyes crinkle at the sight of the object of your affection Saiki.

You took a moment to take in Saiki's outfit- he wore a white turtleneck with a dark cyan sweater layered on top. How the psychic in question manage to pull it off so well with his pink hair? You had no idea. "You're here." Your eyebrows jumped at Saiki's statement. You half expected him to tell you to go home, but knowing him, he wouldn't have the heart to do that to you. Your grin widened.

Still smiling from ear to ear, you held up the bag in your hand filled with homemade coffee jelly. "I made you these for New Year's Eve. Aren't you going to invite me in?" You tilted your head to the side. There was still the main gate to the Saiki's residence that separated the two of you.

Saiki looked from the bag to you and then again. You only watched him, knowing he was going through a dilemma. You were sure he wasn't planning on letting you in because his parents would only bombard you with questions like they always did.

Mrs Saiki would only tease her son here and there, where as Mr Saiki would gush over how his youngest son had managed to find such a nice girlfriend despite the psychic insistently telling his dad that the two of you weren't in a relationship. On the other hand, he wanted the treats you had made for him.

You held the bag up and shook it lightly, 'I know you want it.' You thought at him smugly. Saiki only stared off to the side, and you could see he was struggling with the temptation. After a long mental battle, Saiki stepped outside his house, walking up to you. You only smiled, knowing he had given in to you.

"Fine. You can come in."

You let your arm relax, lowering the bag to your side as you watched him reach out his pale hand to open the gate for you.

➵ ➵ ➵ ➵ ➵ ➵       ➵ ➵ ➵ ➵ ➵ ➵

When Saiki had walked into the living room with you right behind him, and he moved to the side so you came into view- you didn't even get a chance to greet his parents before they jumped out of their seats on the couch to rush over to you. "Happy new ye- Ooof!" You weren't happy about the fact that you had ended the sentence with a Roblox dying effect.

"Happy New Year Y/n!" The both of them exclaimed as they drowned you in hugs, and your heart swelled. Saiki's parents were so sweet, and it was at moments like this that you remembered how much you loved his family, and him. 

Saiki would never admit it but he felt like you fit right in, and he found he was okay with the fact that they loved you.

That only lasted so long, and after a few minutes of being suffocated by them, you peeked through the tangle of limbs to look at their son, sending a pleading look to Saiki. And like the knight in shining armour he was, he came to your rescue. The psychic didn’t mind if it was you asking for help.

"Alright, that's enough." The pink-haired boy stated before pulling his dad off of you by the collar of his shirt. You exhaled in relief, finally able to breathe. Damn, his old man had an iron grip.

"Good grief." You could almost hear the exasperation in Saiki's voice as he hauled his dad away, and all the while, Mr Saiki complained. "Is this how you treat your dear old dad?! This isn't fair, Kusuo! I just wanted to give my daughter-in-law some love!" You tried not to pay attention to the last comment.

With your hands no longer trapped by your side, you brought them up to wrap them around Mrs Saiki, and she squealed over how cute you were. You smiled sweetly at the woman's words, accepting the compliments regardless of whether you believed them or not. Mrs Saiki was the epitome of a ball of sunshine, and you loved her for it.

"She's not your daughter-in-law." Saiki said sternly, and Mr Saiki paled as he let out an "Eep!" at the psychic's darkened expression. Mrs Saiki broke away from you, her hands still on your shoulders as she turned to the boy in question, telling him to let his father go- and like the good son he was, he did.

Mr Saiki crumpled to the floor almost comically before shooting back up as if nothing had happened in the first place, telling his son off for treating him so roughly. His remarks fell on deaf ears.

The next hour went by faster than you would've liked.

After you gave Saiki the treats you had made him, he indulged himself in them with a blush and a smile on his face, one he got rid of the moment he saw you looking. Mr Saiki whisked you away and made you sit down on the couch, putting on a tv show he cackled at, and Mrs Saiki made you hot chocolate, insisting you try it because of the cold weather.

"You'll get sick, sweetie." She had said, shoving the warm mug into your hands and looking at you expectantly. You took a sip after blowing on the hot beverage, and though it had burnt your tongue slightly, the marshmallows melted in your mouth, and you felt like you had tasted heaven.

All was well in the world, until it wasn't.

➵ ➵ ➵ ➵ ➵ ➵       ➵ ➵ ➵ ➵ ➵ ➵

When Saiki tensed, letting his arm lower from being crossed across his chest, and his back straightened, no longer leaning on the wall next to the window as he watched you and his family get along- you raised your eyebrow at him.

'What's wrong?' You asked, not sure why he was suddenly on edge. 'She's here.' Saiki replied, his eyes snapping to meet yours. He didn't have to elaborate- you already knew. Of all the people in the world, there was only one person who would show up unannounced to the Saiki household that day. Teruhashi Kokomi.

People say all good things come to an end eventually, and you believed it. If spending time with the Saikis was bliss, Teruhashi was the reckoning. 

You had to hand it to her- she was determined. Instead of spending New Year's Eve with her family, she was here, no doubt trying to catch Saiki's attention. Then again, did you even have any legs to stand on, considering you were technically doing the same thing? You guessed your high ground would be that Saiki didn’t mind having you around. 

Teruhashi was here and that was an issue. There was no reason for her to ambush the poor psychic on New Years Eve other than to get him to say, 'Oh, wow!', of course.

You stood up from your seat in between Mr and Mrs Saiki, grateful that they were too busy laughing at the tv to pay attention. You came to a stop next to the window where Saiki was, peering out of it.

Lo and behold, there she was, shining like always. You watched on as she put her index fingers to her head and spoke to herself. Was that her imitation of Saiki's hairpins? You nearly laughed, stopping yourself before you could by covering it with a cough. You didn't want to offend the psychic in question. Whom already knew what you were thinking, and was offended.

You tried not to think about how close he was to you or how you could feel the body warmth radiating off of him as he leaned to look out the window. You were sure when he let out a sigh, and his breath fanned the side of your neck, your soul had left your body. The hairs on the back of your neck stood on end.

This man had too much power and it was unfair!

You turned to look up at him, and he briefly met your gaze, you wanted to kiss him right then and there, before his expression turned from soft to shocked. When you looked out the window again, you noticed someone with blonde hair next to Teruhashi. 'Surely not... It couldn't be.'

Saiki confirmed your suspicions, 'It is.' Saiki Kusuke had come to visit. 'What a disaster.' Saiki rushed to the door, and you followed. When the psychic slammed the door open, you watched as Teruhashi's expression changed rapidly. Her eyes lit up the moment she saw Saiki, and when her stare trailed to you, who was directly behind him, her smile fell.

'I knew it.'

'Rue, when did this happen?'

'Stop quoting Euphoria, now is not the time!'

'I shan't.'

Before Teruhashi had a chance to question why you were with Saiki, Kusuke spoke up. "There he is." When his eyes landed on you, he gave you a smirk, "Long time no see, Y/n." You grimaced, not liking the calculative look he gave you as he walked towards you, ignoring Saiki. "How have you been?" He asked, his tone sweet.

From the moment you had met him months ago, he had shown an interest in you and you couldn’t for the life of you understand why. Because his younger brother fond of you.

You noted how his smile didn't quite reach his eyes. When you gave the man silence, his smile grew. You didn't realise the expression on Saiki's face resembled frustration, but Kusuke did. He offered another side glance to Saiki before he turned to Teruhashi and told her to come in.

'These are the last two people I wanted to see on New Year's Day.'

'Agreed.'

➵ ➵ ➵ ➵ ➵ ➵       ➵ ➵ ➵ ➵ ➵ ➵

"Kusuke! You're home." Mr Saiki exclaimed when he saw his son. The man in question paid no mind to his dad, turning to Mrs Saiki instead. "Mom, it's been a while." You observed the scene, stood next to Saiki, who had his arms crossed again. He didn't look the least bit happy.

"Happy new year." Teruhashi greeted Saiki's parents bowing respectfully at them, and you covered your eyes with your arms to shield you from the light she gave off. Pretty girl energy was no joke! You were nearly blinded!

‘Good grief, stop being dramatic.’

‘I am not.’

Mrs Saiki exclaimed at the sight of Teruhashi, "Kokomi! Happy new year!" You felt somewhat glad that the same level of excitement Saiki's mom had when you first came wasn't there, and Teruhashi had gotten a watered-down reaction to what you received.

'They like you more, that's why.'

'You think so?'

'I know so.'

"Wait, you two know each other?" Mr Saiki questioned, looking to and from Kusuke and Teruhashi. Kusuke cleared the situation up by telling him he saw her ringing the doorbell and decided to let her in. Mr and Mrs Saiki apologised for not hearing the girl in question, who seemed to look at Kusuke as if she were in a daze.

You could see why, he was handsome after all, you could admit that much, but his personalit- 

You didn't get a chance to finish your thought as a nearby potted plant trembled before bursting into pieces. Exclaims from Saiki's parents and Teruhashi filled the room. The unexpected loud noise threw you off guard, and you nearly launched yourself into Saiki.

Luckily the psychic had fast reflexes, his hand wrapped around your back and found its way onto your hip, steadying you. You ignored the butterflies that reappeared inside your stomach and the jump of your heart at Saiki's. When you found your balance your eyes met Kusuke's from across the room, who smiled at you as if he knew something you didn't.

His baby brother was jealous.

'Was that you, Kusuo?'

'Why would you think that?'

Saiki answered your question with one of his own, he was being evasive. That only ever happened when he wanted to deny something. You guessed right, it was! What you couldn't quite understand was why? Saiki had a good hold on his powers and they only fluctuated when he was angry, but nothing had happened to incur his rage. You had thought his brother was handsome.

When Teruhashi questioned what made the pot smash, Kusuke jumped in to tell her it was a ghost. She accepted it, remembering the time something similar happened when she came to join in on you and Saiki babysitting Yuta months ago.

You sighed in relief, giving Kusuke a nod as to say, nice save! He only shot a close-eyed smile back at you and you swore you saw another pot tremble in your peripherals.

"Isn't Kuriko here today?" Saiki's mouth fell open in shock, 'Oh right. The other day I dressed up as a girl and pretended to be my sister.' He thought, and you heard him. 'I know, I was there.'

'I have to let them know.' You weren't sure how Saiki planned on doing that- his dad was already questioning Teruhashi. "Kuriko? Oh, right, Kuriko!" Saiki visibly relaxed, and you only shook your head at him. 'Dad, you're perceptive.' Saiki complimented, and you looked at the psychic in mild disapproval.

His dad hadn't caught on at all, there was no way. You wondered how Saiki could possibly think he could rely on him when Mr Saiki was so incredibly aloof. 'He's not.' You thought back at him. The man in question handed food on a plate with chopsticks to Teruhashi, "Here is Kuriko for you!"

You were right- as always, Mr Saiki hadn't realised the situation. 'That's Kuri Chestnut paste.' Saiki looked on incredulously, finally understanding what you meant earlier. Teruhashi gave a confused smile, staring down at the food. "No, I meant Saiki's sister." She stated, and you felt sweat bead on your forehead. You were still there wondering how Saiki's dad had managed to pull food out of thin air.

"What? A sister..." Mr Saiki trailed off, confused as ever. 'This is bad!' You would have to jump in and save Saiki, yet again. "Oh, of course! Our sister, Kuriko." Kusuke jumped in before you could, shoving the Kuri Chestnut paste into his dad's mouth to stop him from speaking. Mr Saiki's muffled groans didn't stop the genius from talking, "She's abroad right now. You know her?"

"Oh really?" It looked as though Teruhashi believed the fib. Kusuke to the rescue! Guess there was no need for you to step in today- Saiki's older brother looked like he had everything under control. Saiki's expression turned from dismay to slight frustration, his brows furrowed.

You watched as Mr Saiki's expression turned to that of clarity, 'Good grief, he finally got it.' Teruhashi's smile returned, "Which country did she go to?" You knew for a fact from previous experiences that Saiki's dad was horrible when it came to answering on the spot, and you were correct. "Paraguay," Was what he had supplied, a strained smile on his face. You almost cringed into the next year.

What a terrible liar he was. Teruhashi was surprised at the answer, repeating the name of the country. 'Just shut up.' You nearly snorted, stopping yourself so the attention in the room wouldn't shift to you. You choked on your spit instead, lightly coughing into your hand so you wouldn't be too loud. Your throat burned from the action. You succeeded but at what cost?

"Kusuo, I have a present for you!" Kusuke jumped in, saving the day yet again with a clap of his hands. 'Nice, in more ways than one.' Saiki commented.

Saiki's older brother held out an envelope for Teruhashi, "You can have one too." He declared, but Teruhashi already had her hands up to refuse. "What? No, I can't accept that." Why say no to free money? You couldn't for the life of you understand. Ah... the perfect girl persona.

"Don't be shy, I have like, 80 million in the bank."

'She doesn't believe him.'

You were too shocked to pay attention to what Saiki thought. Your eyes nearly bulged out of their sockets. Come again? Pardon? 80 million?! You knew he was rich but not that rich! As if sensing your inner turmoil, Kusuke walked up to you and handed you an envelope as well.

The only difference this time was that he took hold of your hands and brought them up to enclose them around the money. "Here's yours, Y/n. Don't worry, I didn't forget about you.' This one was twice as big as Teruhashi's and all you could do was dumbfoundedly stare from the envelope to Kusuke and then to where he was still holding your hand with a smile on his face.

You didn’t notice Saiki tensing beside you.

Was he trying to buy you with money? That wasn't the important question in this situation. The dilemma was, was it working? Maybe...

Another pot smashed in the kitchen, and you whipped your head to look at Saiki. His expression had darkened, and you couldn't for the life of you understand why. Maybe, just maybe, it was because Kusuke was holding your hand. 

“Stop it.” Saiki glared at Kusuke, who shot a grin back at him before turning to Mr Saiki.

"You too, dad." That was sweet of Kusuke, giving money out left, right and centre- even to his father. "You didn't have to..." Mr Saiki trailed off, looking away bashfully and rubbing the bottom of his nose. "What?" Kusuke asked, and you retracted your previous statement. "My present, please."

Kusuke put his hand out in front of his dad, and you choked back laughter yet again. "You have 80 million!" His father exclaimed. While the two of them argued back and forth, Saiki poked your shoulder to get your attention. 'Good grief, what a bother. Let's go Y/n.'

You looked at him in surprise, before raising your eyebrow. 'What about Teruhashi?' He couldn't possibly leave her here with his demon of a brother, could he? The man would find a way to make the psychic's life miserable, and you would bet the money Kusuke gave you that he'd use Teruhashi to do it.

'She'll follow us.'

With that, you left the kitchen with Saiki and sure enough, Teruhashi followed the two of you. "Where are you both going?" Though she didn't say it, Teruhashi was an open book and you didn't need telepathy to know she was thinking- where are you off to? Alone? With Saiki?

‘Told you she’d tag along.’

‘No one likes a show off, Kusuo.’

Saiki wordlessly knelt down to put on his shoes, and you did the same, standing up. "To the temple- that was the plan before Kusuke showed up." You said bluntly, not giving her a second glance as you joined Saiki by the door.

"You can come if you want to." You stated, knowing full well she wanted nothing more than to crash the 'date' and third wheel in order to stop you from getting close to Saiki.

'If I didn't know any better, I'd say you're a psychic too. That's exactly what she's thinking.'

'But you do know better. I'm just good at reading people.'

➵ ➵ ➵ ➵ ➵ ➵       ➵ ➵ ➵ ➵ ➵ ➵

Despite it being January, the weather had yet to warm up. Winter still had its hold over Japan, the grey clouds and cold air were a clear sign of that. The seasons had yet to catch up, spring had yet to settle in and let the blossom trees bloom. Your coat and scarf provided little help against the chill that blanketed the streets.

You rubbed your hands together and blew hot air into them to try and get feeling back into your fingers. When you were about to let out another exhale, you nearly jumped out of your skin when Saiki's hand came into contact with yours.

The butterflies erupted in your stomach as if on command, and you cursed at them. Your ears burned, and suddenly you didn't feel so cold anymore. Saiki had been watching you shiver for the past five minutes and had taken matters into his own hands, quite literally.

'It'll help them warm up quicker. That's the only reason I'm holding them.' He clarified.

The sharp contrast of how warm he was, compared to the weather, caught you off guard. Your fingers had gone numb, but you could still feel the heat from his hands transferring onto you. You were grateful that Teruhashi and Kusuke's brother were walking ahead of you up the stairs to the temple. "Wow, there's a lot of people here," Kusuke commented.

'This is the worst-case scenario. It's all his fault.' Saiki lamented, and you sighed. Kusuke had managed to catch up to the three of you when you were about to leave and asked to join. He didn't wait for an answer, assuming the yes and he started to walk with you.

'Wanna try losing him in the crowd?' You suggested, only to realise it would be difficult since the guy was a genius and no doubt would gain access to hidden cameras to spot all of you. 'I have to take you and get out of here.' Saiki thought at you, and you agreed. What about Teruhashi, though?  Saiki could care less at this point, anything to stop the masochist from trying to interact with you- Teruhashi be damned.

Kusuke turned his head slightly, looking off to the side. "By the way, are you two dating?" His eyes were completely devoid of emotion, and you grimaced. Sometimes, the man made you uncomfortable.

You stayed quiet, assuming that he was asking Teruhashi. Great, even Kusuke thought they were a couple. You ignored the fact that the idea of it all made you upset, denying the pang of pain you felt in your heart as some sort of allergy. Like that made any sense.

You expected Teruhashi to deny it half-heartedly like the perfect girl she was, but you saw the opposite unfold. Her cheeks were bright red as she shook her hand in front of her, eyes unfocused. "What? You're- You're totally mistaken! We're just friends!" She stuttered. You were surprised to see her lose her cool- it didn't happen often. Not unless Saiki was involved anyway.

Kusuke only shot her a fake smile, "I wasn't asking you." You watched as confusion took hold of Teruhashi. You snorted quietly into the palm of your hand, the other one occupied with still holding onto Saiki. "I was talking to you, Y/n." You stopped laughing when your brain caught up with the question.

'Good grief.' 

Your mind was too busy reeling to notice Teruhashi's face scrunch in embarrassment and humiliation as she flushed red, or her shoulders droop. "Wh-What?!" You exclaimed, taken aback, it was your turn to blush. "No- no, we're not dating." You denied it, even though you wanted Kusuke's guess to be true. What you wouldn’t do to date the psychic.

"You two seemed close, so I got the wrong idea. Not to mention, you're holding hands." Kusuke elaborated, and you ignored the flush you were sure was covering you from head to toe. 'He knew, but he asked, anyway.'

You would have let go of Saiki's hand if it weren't for his strong grip. 'Stop holding my hand, Kusuo.' You thought at the psychic. 'Why?' He retorted, still observing his brother. 'I don't want Teruhashi putting a target on my back.' You stated matter of factly, already aware that if you incurred said girl's jealousy her minions would no doubt come after you.

The Teruhashi fan club was a force to be reckoned with and you had no intention of getting mixed up with them. 'Too late, she saw already. If I let go now, it'll make it worse.' You gave up on trying to get away from Saiki, there was no saving yourself, now.

"If you don't like my brother, how about dating me instead?" By the time you noticed how close Kusuke had gotten to you, he was a mere centimetres away from your face. You leaned the top half of your body back, flustered yet again as you refused to meet Kusuke's stare. 

You didn't get a chance to refuse his offer. "Back off." Saiki had pulled you behind him, his hand still intertwined with yours as he stood between you and his older brother. Kusuke only smirked tauntingly at the psychic, his eyes closed. "Oh? Why do I have to do that? Can't I make conversation with a friend of mine-" You cut off Kusuke, "We aren't friends, though?"

You barely knew the guy, and from what Saiki told you, the only impression you had of him was that he was a crazed genius who got off to losing to his younger brother. "Don't be like that, Y/n-" Kusuke tried to step around Saiki and get close to you, but the pink-haired boy wasn't having any of it. "I'm warning you."

Kusuke put his hands up in mock defeat, "Okay, okay. No need to be so on edge, little brother." You didn't notice Teruhashi until she spoke up, distracting the three of you. "Why did you ask her and not me?!" She sure was bold, you guessed the humiliation finally got to her head, making her throw away her perfect girl persona.

Kusuke deadpanned at Teruhashi as he continued. "What? You thought you could fool me? Well, that's to be expected. You probably have been pampered your whole life because of your looks, but Kusuo is on a different level." You expected Saiki to stop Kusuke, but he didn't do a thing, only watched.

Teruhashi no doubt had finally realised Kusuke's true nature. Apart from children, Hairo, Saiki and you, everyone in the world was affected by Teruhashi's beauty. Now, Kusuke was added to that list. Truth be told, you were surprised she hadn't noticed that the genius had yet to gasp at her.

"Oh, wow." Kusuke gasped, but you knew it wasn't at her. It was obvious, his expression was completely neutral, devoid of emotion, and it was like he was far away, not quite there when he said it. You were sure Teruhashi picked up on that as well. How had things come to this? You agonised, wondering why Saiki had to be so unlucky all the time.

'I can still hear you.'

'I'm not wrong am I?'

The four of you continued walking when you realised you were holding up the crowd of people trying to get to the temple. Kusuke half-heartedly apologised for his behaviour, saying he couldn’t really judge- inadvertently calling Teruhashi a monkey as well as the rest of the masses. How condescending.

'He shouldn't take Teruhashi too lightly.'

'She gives even the most powerful psychic in the world trouble, your brother should've been more careful.'

That’s when Teruhashi started crying. 

‘Oh no...’

"Sorry. I know you're a talented actress too." Kusuke stated, but that did nothing to placate the crowd of people stalking toward him. Kusuke failed to realise that the show Teruhashi put on wasn't for him, it was for the strangers around her that would flock to her rescue.

Kusuke looked from left to right at the marching crowd, confused as to why they were surrounding the four of you. Except they weren't, they were surrounding him. Teruhashi had used the ultimate weapon, her angel tears. You saw the smirk she tried to hide behind the hands covering her face. "Are all these her boyfriends? Huh, Kusuo? Y/n?" 

The genius tried to seek help from you and Saiki, to no avail. You had no intention of getting involved with the angry mob. They tried to attack Kusuke, but he managed to summon a helicopter to flee. Where did it even come from?

'Even he was no match for Teruhashi.' You could only silently agree with Saiki's sentiment, gazing up at the retreating aircraft.

'Only in Ohio.' You thought solemnly.

'I don't appreciate your tik tok references.' Saiki thought back, a scowl on his face.

‘Shush, you love them really.’ 

He did.

'I don't care if you do or not anyways, they're for my sanity.' You surmised.

You sighed for the hundredth time that day, feeling drained despite it being early in the morning. The only thing left to do now was to find a way to ditch Teruhashi.

➵ ➵ ➵ ➵ ➵ ➵       ➵ ➵ ➵ ➵ ➵ ➵

bonus:

It was easier than expected, losing Teruhashi that is. You had the news reports of a beautiful girl crying at the temple plastered on social media to thank for that. When Makoto, Teruhashi's older brother had called her up to check on her, threatening that he'd come to see her- she had no choice but to go home.

She apologised quickly, bowed to the both of you and left in a hurry.

"Good job, Y/n." It was rare for Saiki to compliment you, but when he did, you only felt one type of way. It's worth it getting dragged into Saiki's disastrous life, time and time again. Curse you for being whipped for this man.

"Why?" You questioned, curious as to where the praise came from. "I saw you take that picture and post it online." Saiki regarded you as he gave you a side glance. It was true, you had pulled your phone out to snap a picture of Teruhashi amidst the chaos when she was crying, for the purpose of it getting enough attention that it would reach her brother.

You were surprised it had worked, but it was expected- her brother was her number 1 fan and number 1 stalker. "I knew you wanted to get rid of her, so I just did my part." You missed the way the corners of Saiki's mouth twitched, too busy focusing on the fact that he was still holding your hand.

You half expected him to have dropped his hold on you like a hot potato, knowing how he hated getting attention. Your heart threatened to leap into your throat when he gave your hand a light squeeze, your ears burning yet again.

When you looked up at Saiki, the smallest of smiles that had been there seconds earlier was now gone, replaced by his stoic expression. You rubbed your thumb on the back of his hand absentmindedly and shot him a grin. You shoved down the thoughts of how soft his hands were.

You had made up your mind, you were going to spend the rest of New Year's Eve with him, with no interruptions this time. When you pulled him in the opposite direction of the temple and felt no resistance as he followed your lead, your smile widened.

"Let's go to a cafe, Kusuo."

“Okay.”

Saiki decided yet again that he didn't mind being bothered, not by you anyways. Regardless of whether you dragged him to a cafe or anywhere else.

➵ ➵ ➵ ➵ ➵ ➵       ➵ ➵ ➵ ➵ ➵ ➵

next part -  eunoia

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if you want to be tagged, let me know!

[wayfayrr]

The first of the raffle winners! these are @glowyskull's headcanon's for Time with a reader who likes to lightly kiss his scars!! I hope that you like these head canons!

also I'm sorry about there being a bit of a delay, over the weekend I was very busy then when I got back I got sick and couldn't do much at all, so I couldn't really write! I'm hoping to have the headcanons for the raffle out before next Monday though!! then I'll write the longer works

[masterlist]

✦ after getting close to him he’d be secretive about his scars, not because he hates them. He’s fairly neutral to them if anything, but it messes a little with his self-worth when he looks at you and then his copious scars. Questioning how 

✦ But! There's an easy thing to be done to help him feel less ashamed of himself when he’s gotten to the point where it’s noticeable. 

✦ he would fall much faster than otherwise if you sat him down, gently took off his gauntlets and pressed even a single kiss to one of his scars 

✦ he melts at any gentle touch, especially his scars but his favourite place to be kissed is the scars coating his hands because they’re the ones he’s the most insecure about due to the fact that they’re the one’s he can see and compare to you the fastest when he holds yours

✦ the fierce deity marks on his face are also incredibly sensitive, but they’re the only ones that he doesn’t like being peppered with kisses. If you were to dig, you’d find out that he gets jealous when you do. 

✦ if you allowed him, he'd take you into his arms, holding you close to him as you grace him with more delicate touches. Helping you to remove his armour so that you can stay with him more comfortably. 

✦ After a while of reassuring him that you really don’t see him as less due to his scars, he becomes a lot more comfortable with public displays of affection than before. 

✦ If you have any scars at all whether you’re insecure about them or not, just know that he’ll be as reverent of yours as you are of his. No matter what caused yours he doesn’t mock them in the slightest 

✦ When his feelings slide more into yandere territory he craves your touch on his scars, that reaffirmation that you still care about him, that you’ll still treat him so. It encourages him.

✦ he’ll be far braver about holding you close, holding you now even when walking during the day. You want to walk for yourself? But the scar on his shoulder has been itching and you’re the only thing that works to soothe it, he’ll carry you so that no one falls behind though so don’t worry. 

✦ Just let him have this, he’s been through so much and you’re the only balm that can consider healing his beaten and broken soul.

[postitforward]

Mental Health Spotlight: Jasmine Marie, Founder of black girls breathing®

Jasmine Marie is a speaker, breathwork practitioner, and the founder of black girls breathing®. Her work is innovating the wellness, healthcare, and research industry by making mental health services accessible to Black women while filling in the gaps of data and research available on this underserved and underrepresented demographic. Marie plans to impact one million Black women and girls with her work by 2025. She is a serial founder with a past life in global haircare brand marketing and an alum of NYU Stern. The impact and range of her work to date is expansive—ranging from underserved minority communities to stressed-out college students and executives. She’s brought her expertise to elite colleges such as Harvard Business School, Columbia University, and Cornell University, and her client list includes corporations such as Estée Lauder Companies, Under Armour, Capital One, Ford Motor Company, Facebook, and Twitter. Marie has been featured in Oprah Magazine, Good Morning America, VOGUE, Forbes, Harper’s Baazar, Marie Claire, Glamour, Nylon Mag, Wall Street Journal, and Black Enterprise, to name a few.

What is black girls breathing®? And why was it created? black girls breathing® is a safe space for Black women to manage their mental and emotional health and heal trauma in their bodies with breathwork and community.

I created black girls breathing® after finishing my breathwork training and seeing so few facilitators that looked like me yet knowing how much chronic stress and trauma (generational, societal, etc.) and decided to create it. I used my background in business to help me develop a model where we could provide this work accessibly.

Do you have any secret hobbies, skills, or interests?

I don’t think I have any secret hobbies but for a while, I would always feel embarrassed whenever anyone asked that question, as a lot of my hobbies can maybe seem boring to others lol. But I love to read. Reading is one of my favorite hobbies. I love having quiet time…any activity that allows me to feel refreshed, sit with my own thoughts and enjoy my solitude. I think because I deal with so many people’s energy that in my spare time, I just like to spend time with self. I love to cook though…it’s a very meditative activity for me that allows me to unwind from my day.

How did you get started in this work? And why is it important to you?

As mentioned above, after my breathwork training, I realized there were so few Black breathworkers. But before that, I found breathwork while being stressed out after graduating from business school at NYU and working in beauty in NYC. My nervous system was so fried I began having physical symptoms…rashes and an inability to sleep. The doctor would see me and always say, “This is stress. How can you reduce your stress?” Fast forward to me finding my first breathwork class and falling in love with the way it allowed me to just feel more space in my mind and body.

WOW — ONE MILLION Black women and girls breathing by 2025 what an ambitious goal! What impact do you see this having?

It is an ambitious goal, but in 2020, we fundraised $55k to make our work accessible for one year. After the year was done, it was so clear that we couldn’t stop there. So many Black women needed this work, and we would hear that over and over again. So I decided if I was going to do this work, I was only interested in creating real impact and a goal that would signify that. Imagining 1 Million Black women using breathwork as a tool to regulate their nervous systems, heal from compounded trauma and reduce the effect that chronic stress has in our community (health challenges linked to chronic stress: heart disease, high blood pressure, breast cancer, ovarian cancer, fertility issues, and the list goes on) will not only affect them but our community as a whole. Ending the passing down of generational trauma and normalizing healing.

What would you suggest to people who feel like they cannot find the time to breathe or practice mindfulness?

I would first affirm that it’s okay they feel that way. Western society has done a great job of making us feel that anything outside of productivity is not only a waste of time but the least important thing we should make space for. Making time for yourself for any mindful activity can be eased into and it can start with being more aware of the present moment and practicing that action on a daily. Maybe you create a routine where every morning for 3 minutes right when you get up, you take a moment to be still, notice your breathing pattern and focus on each and every inhale and exhale.

Why is Black representation important in this industry?

The wellness industry isn’t unlike other industries where Black representation is lacking. I think it’s important to see other Black women caring for themselves because, historically, we’ve been taught to do the opposite for oh so long.

Where do you find joy?

I find joy with my family and my loved ones, in intimate moments with friends, in good food and conversation, and in being able to create something and see it grow, shift, and evolve.

Want to learn more about black girls @blackgirlsbreathing?

Check out their website!

Breathe with us on March 27th @12pm EDT during their Mindful Monday Breathwork for Anxiety session on Tumblr Live

Ask black girls breathing all the questions on your mind for IssueTime on Navigating Anxiety in an increasingly digital, lonely world

Take the pledge with black girls breathing®

[lttl3babybug]

Could i request Lucifer cg headcanons?😙

Course!!!! I’m gonna use this as Luci with a toddler/Kid regressor cause I’ve got a Cg!Lucifer and Baby!Reader in the works too :3

Cg!Lucifer Morningstar Headcanons!

🍎Being an actual dad Lucifer is pretty experienced with kids! So he’s defo a great cg!

🍎He’s very hands on with you, loves getting messy while playing

🍎Finger painting, colouring, drawing, playing in the mud, jumping in puddles. He’s down to do it all with you. The messier the better

🍎That just means bath time afterwards!

🍎Very respectful during bath time, will leave you to do it yourself if you want but if you’d like his help he’ll happily do it

🍎Puts a few rubber duckies in the bath for you to play with while he cleans the mud/paint off you

🍎Cuddles! Especially if it’s getting chilly, loves wrapping you up in a nice warm blankie and snuggling you

🍎He’s so caring, kisses all your owies and makes sure you’re all bandaged up

🍎Loves playing pretend with you

🍎He’ll be your knight in shining armour, the damsel in distress, the big bad dragon, whatever you need he can do it!

🍎Loves picking out outfits for you

🍎Showers you in gifs and compliments, you’re his perfect little one, his pretty princess, handsome little prince

🍎You have more stuffies than you know what to do with, they’re piled up in your play room

🍎Oh yeah. PLAY ROOM.

🍎It’s filled with toys, nap corner, books, fidget toys, changing table, whatever your little heart desires it’s in there

🍎Gives you a duck he made especially for little you, it’s got a little paci in and everything :(

🍎He loves you so so much and sometimes worries that you don’t know just how much he adores you

🍎You are his everything

🍎While cuddling if you’re cold he’ll wrap his wings around you, letting you stroke the feathers

🍎Loved seeing you in his hat, he thinks it’s adorable

🍎If you’ve got long hair he will absolutely sit and put it in braids and tie little bows with ribbons at the end of them

🍎Or he’ll leave it down and put little hair clips in to keep it from falling in your face

🍎You’re his little duckling, peppering kisses all over your face every time you cry and letting you know just how much he loves you

🍎Going to the park and feeding ducks together or playing on the swings

🍎He’ll do anything to see you smile

[slashmagpie]

Shhhh.

It’s silliness, really, that makes Tango creep through the hollows in Decked Out’s walls to his mess of shulkers full of in-game items. He keeps his footsteps light, his breathing shallow, picturing himself a ghost as he slinks through the shadows and stone. It’s silly, but he can’t help but think that maybe, if he’s quiet enough, he might be able to—

Steal from the dungeon.

His fingers touch the shulker he needs, and the stone around him groans, deep and resonating through his bones. Tango grits his teeth, freezing. Busted. He’d known, really, but it’s still—

“It’s fine,” he says to the air, tail lashing, not quite opening the box just yet. “It’s a starter deck. If I was a normal player, I’d have had a Moment of Clarity in my deck from the get-go.”

Another grumble of discontent. Tango shivers. He can feel the disapproval crawling beneath his skin, and it takes all his willpower not to drop the shulker like a hot coal. 

“I know,” he says. “I thought I explained this! It’s an experiment, right? I’m seeing—seeing how dungeon knowledge makes up for a, uh, relative lack of skill.” The dungeon’s unhappiness remains where it is, but does not increase, and Tango lets out a shaking breath as he cracks open the lid of the shulker and peers inside just enough to spot and snag one of the cards he needs. He turns it between his fingers, glittering cardboard, the golden foil glittering in the torchlight. 

“I know I’m not a regular player,” Tango reassures the dungeon once again. “We talked about this, didn’t we? I’m not gonna submit Victory Tomes. And I’m starting behind everyone else. I won’t even run as much! I’m just—gonna try it. Think of it like the test runs again, yeah?” 

The discontent surges—then wanes, like a wave rushing back out to sea, and Tango feels like he can breathe again, the pressure on his lungs lessening. He hadn’t realised just how uncomfortable the weight had been until it was gone. Feeling ten tons lighter, Tango grins at the air.

“See? And, hey, if I run the dungeon, you’ll probably get to eat me loads more. You like that, don’t you?” A wry smirk. “I’m basically your favourite meal.”

The dungeon—doesn’t quite laugh, but the groan is quieter, softer, and tickles more than it prickles or aches. It’s not quite approval, and it’s not happy, but—it’s letting him. It’s letting him run, Moment of Clarity and all.

Tango tucks the additional card away inside his inventory and makes to leave the small, cramped storage room that isn’t a storage room and that Pearl would definitely murder him for. He hurries through his actual storage room and up to the water elevator. He should get his runs done before the dungeon changes its mind again. Honestly, sometimes Decked Out is more of a pain than the Ravagers are. 

…He is glad that it had fallen for his excuses, for the experiment and beta testing explanations, because he’s not sure the dungeon would appreciate his actual reasons for running quite as much. It’s quite particular about the place of its Dungeon Master, and what is and isn’t appropriate for Tango to do. It's why Tango spends hours and hours of his day watching people run the dungeon instead of working on all those repairs he’s got mounting on a list in the back of his mind. And why he has to give a mountain of excuses to play the game he’d helped make. Because really, in actuality—

Tango just wants to have a little fun.

Is that too much to ask?

He places a shard in the barrel and watches the doors open. He can feel the dungeon’s eyes on him already, and it’s weird to not be looking through them himself as he takes off his armour and stores his stuff in the chest. He takes a deep breath, tucks the stolen Moment of Clarity into his deck, and makes his way through the iron door.

Decked Out curls beneath his skin, curious and hungry, and as Tango places his deck into the slot, he feels the dungeon purr. 

[lieutnt]

KINKTOBER - #8

mirror sex & praise kink w/ din djarin x top!male reader kinktober masterlist

He shivers as you kiss down his spine, leaving a hot trail that has him turning his head to try and look at but you’re quick to stop, eyes flickering up towards him. “Eyes on the mirror, Din.”

Din wordlessly turns, attempting to look anywhere but the reflection of his warming face. His cock throbs embarrassingly hard between his thighs, dripping pre like a leaky faucet despite the fact that you haven’t even fucked him yet - all you’ve done is kiss him a few places, run your fingers across his body and stretch him open, leaving his nerves to jump every time you touch him.

You press a kiss dangerously low at the bottom of his spine and he has to remind himself to breathe when you murmur “So pretty for me.” Din never thought much about his appearance, always hidden beneath his beskar, and he certainly never considered himself pretty, body marred by scars from years of hard work without proper armour. But then you came along and stripped him of that armour piece by piece, until all that was between you was his helmet and even then you never pushed, always respecting his creed until he’d taken it off and your breath had been stolen from your lungs.

His eyes were so warm, dark liquid pools that you could drown in. Facial hair that every time you kissed you could feel brush against your face, and it was during one of these moments that you pulled away and looked at him as if he were a galaxy and first called him pretty. Din was used to the regular praise that came with his work - a ‘good job’ or a ‘nice shot’, but he found himself blushing like he never had before when he was stripped beneath you as you murmured compliments into his skin.

Goosebumps ricochet down his body when you work your way up to press your chest against his back and hook your chin over his shoulder, eyes meeting in the mirror. Your hands travel down his stomach, reverently caressing until one wraps around his cock, causing him to release a sharp exhale. His hips twitch forward minutely before he steels himself, tilting his head as you kiss at his throat. “Always good for me Din. So perfect.”

Warmth floods through his veins, a barely concealed whine bubbling in his throat as you pull away just long enough to fist yourself briefly, lining yourself up with his hole, gaze locked on the way it stretches for you as you push in. He keens, a hand reaching back to secure itself on your hip as you lean back over, lips connected to his skin as you mouth at his shoulder.

A slow, low breath forces its way out as you inch inside, hands caressing the skin of his hips until your pelvis is flush with his ass where you pause, letting Din adjust to the feeling. His head falls, chin tucked against his chest while he waits for the last of the sting to leave his body. You let him, giving him the brief respite before he looks up again to see you already watching him, an enamoured look in your eyes.

It makes his stomach flutter, and when pleasure washes over your face as you grind your hips forward he can see why you had made him face the mirror. You retreat back on your heels, an arm laying across Din’s chest to pull him back with you, your cock sinking impossibly deeper. “Fuck, just look at you,” you airly breathe out, leaving Din no choice but to face his reflection.

His skin is shining with a light sheen of sweat, dark curls sticking to his forehead and when you jerk your hips up his vision blacks out, eyes uncontrollably shutting. “Ah ah,” you say, stopping your movements and his eyes open again. “That it’s, keep them open.”

He nods, instead focusing on watching you as you start a languid pace, drawing out each inch of pleasure. “Do you know how good you feel? Like you were made perfectly for me, I could sit here and stare at you for hours.”

Din shakes his head, face burning with arousal and a hint of embarrassment at being held open so easily. You don’t like that answer, a hand tightening on his hip while the other cups his jaw, forcing him to stare forward. “No? Look at you,” your hips grind forward slowly, sinking in as deep as you can with a satisfied groan. “This is what you do to me, feel it?” A quiet moan pours from his mouth as you nudge against his prostate, purposefully grinding against it as his thighs quiver. “If you don’t believe me,” you nip against his ear, a shiver rumbling through his body, “I’ll just have to keep going until you do.”