#but things might get a bit sporadic. more sporadic? from here

[khaotunq]

😶

[sysig]

Some highlights from a tense but still very Winterkov-y scene (Patreon)

[roosterforme]

Yours Truly, Bradley Bradshaw Part 3 | Rooster x Reader

Summary: You rendered Bradley speechless and left him wondering if your students were the ones who wanted to know what he looked like or if it was really you who was curious. He wanted to know everything about you, but the urge to ask for more was mingling with his duty to keep things professional. You and he teetered on the edge... until you didn't.

Warnings: Fluff, language, Bradley looking hot

Length: 3100 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female teacher!Reader

Check out my masterlist for more! Yours Truly, Bradley Bradshaw masterlist

Bradley found himself homesick in a way he never did before. He still had weeks and weeks of this deployment to go, stuck on the aircraft carrier, endlessly curious about someone he barely knew anything about and a classroom full of kids he'd never met. But he felt like he wanted to know more about you and them. 

At least he was too busy now to dwell on the fact that it had been days since the last mail call. He was never one who was lined up, eager to collect something from a loved one. Vanessa and all of his other ex girlfriends never sent him handwritten notes or snacks. He'd gotten sporadic emails in the past, but nothing that made him smile and laugh out loud. Never anything that made him sad when he realized he had reached the end of the note, hoping for more.

He wanted to go back to the lounge and check his email, but he was afraid he'd have nothing new to read. There was really nobody else other than you who would send him anything right now, and he was sure you had something better to do with your time than comment on the photos he'd send of his jet and the engine parts. And even if you had written back, how long could he really keep this conversation with you going? How soon would you run out of interest in his deployment?

Bradley knew he'd be much better at talking to you in person, but how the hell was he supposed to get there? Jesus Christ, you were probably married. You probably already had someone back home wrapped around your fingers, and here he was, still thinking about you. 

"Pitiful," he muttered, making his way to the lounge anyway. He would keep it professional with you. One hundred percent. But he still wanted to know if your students got to see the photos and if they had any questions about them. 

When he logged into his email account, his heart skipped around a bit when he saw that he had something new from you. Then he opened it up and read it, and his lips parted softly in surprise at what you'd sent.

Thank you for the photos. They were very enlightening. We especially liked the ones where you were showing off your cockpit. Or I did, anyway. The kids liked all of them and started on another list of questions for you. Good luck getting rid of us now. 

We were wondering if you could have someone take a picture of you standing in front of your jet. For size comparison purposes. And also because my students would like to know what you look like. Hearing from you makes our day even better.

Bradley read it again. Still surprised, he read it a third time. Were you the one asking for the photo? It seemed like you might be. Or was he just projecting here? Shit. Maybe. He'd been thinking about how he'd respond if you asked him something personal, and this felt like you and he were teetering right on the edge.

You even echoed his own thoughts, but it still made him warm all over to know that you looked forward to hearing from him. That it made your day better when he sent an email. He decided he was going to keep this going as long as he could.

He logged out again and headed to the mess hall for dinner, because there was no point in responding until he had the photo you just asked him for. One where you'd be able to see exactly what every inch of him looked like. As he ate his meatloaf, his thoughts all settled on that one pertinent question: were your students really the ones who were curious about how he looked, or were you? Because it sounded like it could be the latter. He fucking hoped it was. And he fucking hoped you wouldn't be disappointed after tomorrow when he sent you exactly what was asked of him.

----------------------------

You thought you were ready, but you weren't. Not for this. Not for him. Not even close. Thankfully it was still early enough that none of your students were in the classroom with you, because Lieutenant Bradley Bradshaw had responded to your slightly tipsy email from a few nights ago. He sent exactly one photo, and your only response was to softly moan, "Holy hell."

To say he was attractive looking standing there in his flight suit next to the jet with his name on the side of it would have been the understatement of the century. He was hot. Unbelievably hot. Top tier. You shamelessly zoomed in to get an even better look at his face which was complete with a crooked little smile and a fucking mustache.

"Who does he think he is?" you asked the empty room, voice filled with need. "The audacity."

Even his messy, wavy hair looked soft enough for you to want to rub your face and lips against it. Where did that idea come from? You uncrossed and recrossed your legs as the most delightful thoughts filled your mind. You already knew he was sweet, kind, attentive and humble, but now you knew he was easy on the eyes, too. If only you could hear his voice. 

After several minutes of uninterrupted gawking, you realized he'd written a few sentences to you as well, addressing you just as he always had. But this felt more personal. Maybe a little intimate.

For reference, I'm 6'1" and 205 pounds. That should give you and your kiddos a good size comparison, yeah? Also, just a little curious myself here.... are you sure they were the only ones who wanted to know what I look like? Or did you want to know, too?

So he called you out. Your whole body felt too hot and too light. You were floating off of your chair even as your heart pounded. You must be two feet in the air by now. He already knew what you looked like, but now you cared more than ever what he thought about you. Because you had a massive crush on your classroom pen pal.

"How embarrassing. You drunk emailed him! How are you supposed to respond to this?" you whispered as you closed your laptop and pressed your fingers to your lips. It was hard to tell if his tone was playful or not. He was smiling in the photo, which made you think that he was. But perhaps he was trying to put a stop to any topic of conversation that could be considered personal. 

Then it hit you like a bolt of lightning. No way was this man single. He was handsome. That would have been enough on its own. But he also had an impressive career, all of his hair, and he was tall. And that didn't even scrape the surface of his sweet personality! You couldn't embarrass yourself further. You just couldn't. You wanted him to keep writing to your class, because they were already so attached to him. You couldn't ruin this for them. 

When your students came flooding into the room, they led off with the same question they had every morning now. "Did we get anything in the mail from Lieutenant Bradshaw?"

"Not yet," you replied, still trying to decide how to respond to his photo. "But hopefully soon. He did email another picture though."

All of them were immediately headed for your desk, wanting to see what their pen pal looked like. You pressed your lips together, bracing yourself as you opened up that photo again, and then the kids all interjected into your thoughts.

"His jet is so cool!"

"It's huge!"

"He looks exactly how I thought he would!"

"Can he send us more stuff?"

It took you a good, long while to get them all into their seats. Clearly you weren't the only one who was entranced by him. Their questions overflowed, most of which still had to do with the aviation topics you'd been teaching them. Bradley Bradshaw had turned your classroom upside down, in a good way. And the more you thought about it, the more you just wanted to make sure you weren't missing out on something here. This man was better looking than the last three guys you went out with all combined, and he already made you feel tingly inside before you knew that for a fact.

You went home after work and did it again. You drank some wine and logged into your work email account and wrote back to him less than a day after he wrote to you. Part of you recognized that you'd look desperate, but you simply had to know so you could stop thinking about him if necessary. You started typing. 

It was definitely, absolutely my students who wanted to know what you look like. It had nothing to do with me. That's my story, and I'm sticking to it. That being said...nice photo. Very nice.

My kids also wanted me to ask you if your spouse or significant other is in the Navy. And they'd like to know how old your kids are if you have any. Once again, just to be clear, I'm only asking these things on their behalf...

"Send," you whispered, doing it before you could stop yourself. Then you were left with your intrusive thoughts and the rest of the wine, ultimately deciding to just go to bed. He wasn't going to respond right away. He was busy working. You just hoped it didn't take too long. 

But it did. Days passed. You normally tried not to think about your work email account during the weekends, let alone check it. Saturday was miserable as you logged in almost hourly to check and double check if you had something new from Lieutenant Bradshaw. It was so bad, you ended up initiating a movie night with some of your friends, opting to lock your phone in the center console of your car rather than take it into the theater. 

Sunday was no better. You took yourself to the beach for the afternoon to try to read and sunbathe. But there was a group of guys in US NAVY TOP GUN shirts playing football, and you wondered if Bradley ever did this kind of thing with his friends. Or his family. Jesus Christ, why couldn't he just write back and tell you if he had a pretty wife and six adorable kids who loved to play football on the beach with him?

When two of the guys in the TOP GUN shirts purposely threw the football toward your towel and tried to play it off as an accident, you didn't even feel like returning their flirtatious banter. Neither of them had a mustache or soft looking brown hair. Neither of them left you wanting to know more. 

You went home and tried so hard not to check your work email, but you failed miserably. But then you were happy you caved, because he wrote back. Bradley Bradshaw actually responded again. And a few seconds later, you were giggling and trying to control the squeal that escaped your lips.

When the mail arrived on the aircraft carrier yesterday, I was one of the first officers in line, and I wasn't disappointed. I got the second box from your class, and I can't wait to start reading and responding to everyone's notes this week. I'll let you know when you've got more mail coming your way. 

Since your students seem to be showing quite an interest in my personal life, please let them know I actually don't have a spouse or significant other at all. Nor do I have any kids. Their letters (and your emails, too) are the only ones I'm getting this deployment. No one else has been writing to me. Nobody stateside is waiting for me. I hope that answers their questions to your liking.

And now it's your turn to answer a question for me. Is there a guy in your life who is going to try to beat the crap out of me if I tell you that I think you're gorgeous? 

I'll just be waiting impatiently for your response.

Yours Truly,

Lt Bradley Bradshaw

----------------------------

Bradley was so tired. The kind of bone deep exhaustion that only comes after the completion of a dangerous mission when your adrenaline finally wears off. All he could think about was how badly he wanted to be back at home in his bed in San Diego with a soft, warm body next to his and a sweet voice in his ear. But he was picturing your face and your body, already convinced you'd have the sweetest voice he'd ever heard.

Shit. He needed to focus on what the admirals had to say instead of drift into daydreams.

"No need to report to the strategy room in the morning, Lieutenant," his commanding officer said as Bradley unzipped the top of his flight suit. "Take some time to rest."

He saluted the admiral and walked off toward his bunk and a hot shower. But even as the steamy water eased the ache in his muscles, he thought about how he already knew he wouldn't be able to sleep right now. Not when he still had a few messages from your students to respond to. Not when those notes always made him smile.

This time you'd only included a very short note in the box, but it wasn't typed up and printed out. It was written in your pretty penmanship on a sheet of lined paper.

Lt Bradshaw,

I hope this package finds you well. Please prepare yourself for approximately seven hundred more questions. Thanks again for sharing your time with us.

He didn't mind one bit. In all actuality, he was living for this shit, already thinking about how he could maybe visit your classroom someday soon. Several of the kids asked him if he could. They all asked him to take more pictures of life on the aircraft carrier. Then he laughed for a solid minute over the photo that Jayden sent of his Cocker Spaniel named Vanessa. 

But Bradley had purposely been neglecting his email inbox for the last few days. He was too afraid to read your words telling him that you were in fact taken, and that he was stupid for thinking you'd been the one who wanted to know what he looked like. He was rather enjoying the delusion that you might let him tell you how pretty he thought you were over email and maybe someday in person. He decided to respond to the rest of the notes in the box before getting rejected, otherwise it would be too hard to do this.

He finished writing back to Oliver and Cooper and then tucked the box away under his bed before drifting off to sleep while dreaming of his own bed. But the next day, he had literally no work to do. He's been given the entire day off. He hit the gym and avoided the married woman like the plague. Then he ate lunch and contemplated going back to the gym again, but his feet carried him to the lounge instead. At the very least, he promised you that he'd let you know when you had mail on the way so the kids could get excited. He should take the time to tell you he'd be sending more responses to your class by air mail.

Somehow Bradley had convinced himself so thoroughly that you were in a relationship, he almost couldn't fathom anything else. But there was a new message from you in his inbox, and it felt like a gift when he opened and read it.

Lt Bradshaw,

I must say, I was surprised to find out that my emails and the letters from my class are the only ones making their way to you. Not that I'm complaining. Not one bit. I just find it hard to believe that you don't have a lot of interested parties hoping for a chance to be the one you think about when you're deployed and all alone.

My last boyfriend didn't like it when I talked about my fourth graders. He didn't really see any value in what I do for a living. He would have never taken the time to read something they wrote let alone answer their questions individually. So no, there's nobody who would be upset with you for making me feel like there are butterflies permanently living in my belly now. If you want to tell me you think I'm gorgeous, I'm certainly not going to stop you.

Here's my personal, non school affiliated email address. Just in case you feel like using it. If not, you can keep responding here, and I can take the hint that we went far enough.

I hope you're doing well and staying safe.

Frantically, Bradley checked the date and time stamp. "Fuck," he growled, his fingers not quite able to keep up with his brain when he realized you'd sent this to him days ago. More than five days ago! "Shit. Fuck!" He had been keeping you waiting! As soon as he got his hands working at the same speed as his thoughts, he copied and pasted your personal email address and started a new thread like his life depended on it.

----------------------------

You were just curling up with a cup of sleepy time tea after a long day at work, wishing someone would put you out of your misery, when your phone vibrated on the couch cushion next to your leg. You were half tempted to ignore it, reasoning that it was probably time to accept the fact that Bradley Bradshaw already lost interest in you and delete his photos from your downloads folder. You should learn how to stop embarrassing yourself.

Then you glanced down and saw that you had a new email. It was from a now familiar sender. It had been sent to your personal account. You immediately scrambled to unlock your phone and read it.

Hey, Gorgeous,

I'd like to take it further.

Yours Truly,

Bradley Bradshaw

-------------------------------

What the fuck, Bradley, you smooth man! Take it further, take it further, take it further! I love how impatient they get when they want to hear from each other. Now go ahead and get a little more personal. Thanks to @mak-32 and @beyondthesefourwalls and everyone who sent me messages and asks about this fic.

PART 4

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[imfoive]

Little Picasso

Chan x Reader (fem.) Genre: Dad! Chan, Established Relationship, Fluff, Slice-of-life Warnings: none! (mention of word “sh*t”), somewhat proofread WC: 3.8k A/N: I had so much fun writing this! Might make a series of dad!skz. Feedback is always welcome, enjoy! ── MASTERLIST

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He had assured her. 

The night before, the morning of.

   “Don’t worry, we’ll be fine.”

   “Go have fun with your friends. You haven’t seen them in forever.”

It was true. After Mimi was born, Y/N had been so preoccupied with the new chapter of motherhood that her outings had become sporadic, sometimes happening just once a month.

Her husband would urge her, “Babe, please go have some fun with your friends.”

Sure, they had date nights. Chan and she would frequently make time for each other while leaving their daughter in the care of either his parents or hers. Even though her mind would often wander back to thoughts of their toddler, Chan managed to keep her focused on their evening together, allowing them to enjoy each other’s company.

But when it was just her, when she managed to escape to do something she’d always enjoyed, things that didn’t involve errands, lists, or a child on her hip, all Y/N could think about was Mimi.

She wouldn’t say she was a helicopter mom. She wasn’t always trailing behind Mimi. But with their almost four-year-old inheriting her father’s chaotic nature whenever she got a bit too hyper, she couldn’t help but worry. When Mimi got excited, she would spiral out of control, often taking hours to calm down from her sugarless high.

Her husband was different. Bang Chan was always an anchor, level-headed and approaching things in his own orderly but calm fashion, making sure nothing bad would happen at all times. So, while some might think he would handle fatherhood similarly, he was different in that regard. Although he’d always keep a sharp eye out for dangerous situations, he wouldn’t always rush to the rescue as soon as Mimi cried. Instead, he would observe, waiting to see if she was truly hurt or if it was just a reaction to shock. Chan was the type to let Mimi try things that might result in her crashing to the ground or things around her crashing to the ground. 

   “It’s all life lessons. She’ll learn from them and approach things with more caution next time.”

While it was true that Mimi would tackle her failures with a more gentle approach, the worry never left Y/N.

But still, here she was, rethinking her decision about attending a brunch her best friend from college was hosting to kick off her wedding events. She already knew she was going to be included in her friend’s bridal party and would be honored to be a bridesmaid. Yet, on the morning of the event, she stood in front of her closet, staring at the dress she had set out the night before, filled with doubt.

   “Maybe I should tell her I can’t make it?” She questioned, turning to find Chan in the middle of getting dressed.

   “Babe, you can’t flake on her. You promised you’d be there.” He shook his head, reminding her of her best friend’s stern phone call warning that she’d better show up.

She sighed, hands resting on her hips, knowing she wouldn’t be able to actually not show without a guilty conscience. Chan came up behind her, wrapping his arms around her and resting his head on her shoulder.

   “We talked about this. Everything will be okay here in your absence.” 

She turned in his arms, meeting his soft gaze. 

   “I know, but I can’t help but worry. Every time I’m out alone, all I can think about is Mimi. I know she’s safe with you or our parents, but she’s become such a handful lately. I worry sometimes.”

Chan couldn’t disagree. Mimi was becoming a walking disaster, and even he felt anxious from time to time. But he was more concerned that if she continued to overthink, she might become overbearing and overprotective, which wouldn’t be good for either Mimi or herself in the long run.

   “It’s part of growing up. She’ll get hurt, she’ll break things. But, even though she’s a little reckless, she’s such a good girl.” There was a proud glint in his eyes, and both his words and gaze convinced her for now.

   “I should start getting ready then.” She sighed.

   “Can I watch?” Chan mused, stepping back and eyeing her figure.

   “Like you don’t already.” Y/N retorted with a roll of her eyes, earning a chuckle from him as he lounged back on the bed.

It was still early, and Mimi was still asleep in her room. She had well over two hours to prepare before she needed to head out, so there was no rush.

   “She had too many of those snacks last night, so please don’t sneak some onto her plate.” She ordered, applying makeup while glancing at Chan through the dresser mirror.

He chuckled and nodded. “Got it.” He remained lounged back, supporting himself with his palms against the mattress.

   “And the rug. I’m still worried about it… maybe we should put it—”

   “Babe, relax. The rug looks great where it is. It’s been three days, and it’s still pristine.” Chan assured.

Which was true. Y/N had been contemplating for two weeks whether it was a good idea to place it out. She had been hauling it in and out of its spot for the better part of the week before Chan got tired of her indecisiveness. The rug was one of those wedding gifts she had forgotten about until she rediscovered it rolled up in storage. Still wrapped, still new and soft.

She sighed, grabbing her blush compact.

He was right. She was probably overthinking. Mimi understood when she told her to be careful on the rug. She even started tiptoeing on it to avoid ruining it.

Truth be told, Y/N was probably more nervous about seeing her group of college friends she hadn’t seen in forever. Besides her best friend, many of the group were much like herself. Married, with children, busy with their jobs and life. It had become harder for all of them to connect frequently. Her best friend’s celebration was a great excuse to bring everyone back together and have some time for themselves, which they hadn’t had in what felt like forever.

Chan noticed the unconscious smile that spread across her face as she thought about brunch. He was glad. She had been jittery since last night, planning her absence as if she were leaving for a vacation and not just a few hours.

   “Which color?” Y/N asked, turning in her seat to hold up lipsticks for him to choose between.

He pondered for a moment before pointing at the right one, only for her to use the other. It still made him laugh, a cute habit of hers that she had ever since the two of them began dating. He still made a choice every time, knowing 9 out of 10 times she was always going to choose for herself anyways.

   “That one is too pink.” She muttered, smacking her lips together, satisfied with her choice.

The sound of footsteps running across the floorboards growing closer made them both turn to the door, where their daughter made her entrance for the day, bedhead and all. Mimi ran into her father’s awaiting arms, still sleepy-eyed. 

   “Morning miss Mimo.” Chan chuckled at the sight of her, clearly pleased that she had slept well.

   “Mommy looks pretty.” Mimi complimented with a groggy hum, watching her mother through the mirror, just like her dad had.

Y/N smiled, ready and all, standing up to show off her flowy dress.

   “It’a green, your favorite color. Do you like it?” She asked, twirling around to reveal the cute pattern.

Mimi nodded, her eyes lighting up.

   “I wanna wear a green dress too mommy!” She’s excited now.

Both Y/N and Chan laughed, and Chan patted down Mimi’s messy hair.

   “Let’s take a bath and then get into our pretty dress. We do have a pretty green dress, right?” He’s looking at Y/N.

She nodded, and Chan immediately stood with arms outstretched for their three-year-old to jump into.

It isn’t until Mimi was getting into the bath, Y/N popped into the bathroom, fully ready to leave.

   “I’m gonna head out now baby.” She said, her hand gently brushing Mimi’s cheek before she turned to Chan.

   “Call me if anything happens. And remember—“

Chan leaned in and pecked her lips, cutting off the barrage of instructions she had been about to give.

   “We’ll be good.” He said with a reassuring smile, turning to look down at their daughter, who was already distracted by the bubbles in her bath.

   “We’ll be good, right Mimo?” Chan asked, and she responded with an enthusiastic “yes!”

Her loud “bye, Mommy!” echoed several times as she splashed in the water. Y/N walked out, calling back a “bye” before finally heading out the door.

As she stepped outside and the morning sun hit her, Y/N felt a wave of relief wash over her.

────────────────────────

   “Okay Mimo what should we do today?” Chan leaned against the counter, having just cleaned his daughter’s face from the remnants of their breakfast.

   “Snackies!” Mimi wriggled in her seat, pointing towards the cabinet where her mother usually kept the snacks, out of her reach.

The father chuckled, dropping his head. If he stared at her face any longer, he might cave and actually give her the snacks, which he was specifically instructed not to.

   “You just ate baby. Let’s do something else, hmm?” He ignored her slight pout, picking her up under one arm and hauling her into the living room like a purse. Her fit of giggles was immediate, a distraction that worked like a charm.

The first hour of their morning was spent watching one of those random cartoons Mimi had stumbled upon one day and had become obsessed with since. Chan watched intently, trying to make sense of the random storyline and wondering why his three-year-old wasn’t confused by what was going on.

By the second hour, Mimi had moved on to clattering her toy tea set loudly in the living room. Chan glanced up every few minutes from his place at the dining table, busy with some work on his laptop but keeping an eye on his daughter. When the clattering stopped, he looked up to find Mimi staring at the TV, almost hypnotized.

   “Daddy! Paint!” The child shouted, running to him and tugging at his hands to bring him to the television.

He looked at the bright screen, trying to understand what had his daughter so excited. Mimi was jumping at his side, tugging on his hand. Chan placed his phone down on the coffee table and turned his full attention to the television, his brows furrowing as he tried to make sense of what was happening.

A puppet dressed as a painter stood in front of a canvas with “Picasso’s Corner” messily painted on it.

Great.

Chan wondered how he was going to distract her this time. He knew she was even more excited about painting because she had recently been given a paint set from one of his close friends, which she hadn’t had a chance to use yet.

Stupid Hyunjin, Chan thought.

But as he glanced down at Mimi’s pleading puppy eyes, he immediately caved. He couldn’t blame himself. He was already heartbroken from the first time he had ignored her request for snacks. How could he deny her this fun activity that she was so excited about?

So, Chan cleared the dining table, spreading newspaper across it to protect the wood from any potential spills, which were bound to happen, even if the paints were labeled as washable. Mimi was beaming in her seat, wriggling with excitement and holding brushes in both hands. Chan chuckled at her enthusiasm, handing her one of the mini canvases that came with the kit.

   “You excited Little Picasso?” He laughed, tearing away the plastic and packaging from the bottles of paint.

Another nickname added to Chan’s list of endless, adorable things he called his daughter. Even Mimo came from their game of hide-and-seek, which was strictly called “Finding Mimo” in their household.

   “Yes! So excited!” Mimi’s eyes were wide, and her grin was the biggest Chan had seen in a long time, melting his heart with her adorable expression.

True to her new nickname, Little Picasso dove right in, her brush creating blobs and streaks of green, red, and yellow on the blank canvas. Of course, the paint quickly spread to her fingers, the newspaper, and even her face. Chan noticed the splatter on her dress and quickly checked the label on the paint bottle to confirm it was indeed washable. He sighed in relief when he saw that it was.

   “Daddy, blue please!” Mimi handed him an unopened bottle still covered in its film.

As Chan began to unwrap it, twisting open the cap and removing the silver foil inside, his cell phone rang loudly across the room. He strided over to the coffee table, setting the opened paint bottle that he unconsciously brought with him, down and quickly picked up his phone.

It was a call from his friend, and Chan was already distracted, walking away from the table, and the paint bottle, and the white rug underneath it all. His eyes were fixed on the television, which continued to play in the background while he and Mimi had started their painting activity at the dining area.

Mimi’s eyes widened as she watched the blue paint bottle tip over from the wind of Chan’s swift turn, spilling its contents into a bright pool beneath it. The vivid color began to trickle down onto the rug, leaving a streak of blue that spread across the white and seeped into the fur.

The toddler gasped, sitting up in her chair.

   “Daddy!” Mimi’s voice rang out, her paint-smeared fingers covering her mouth in surprise.

Her shout made Chan look at her, his eyes widening as he took in the sight of her paint-splattered face. But quickly masked in confusion, as he followed her gaze and was shocked to see the blue puddle spreading across the rug he swore wouldn’t get ruined anytime soon.

   “I’ll call you back.” He muttered into the phone.  

Chan rushed to the table, grabbing the blue bottle, now slippery with paint. His frantic hands tried to contain the spill that was freely flowing over the edge of the coffee table.

   “Shit.” He grumbled.

   “Shit—Mimo, pass me a paper towel, please!” He shouted over his shoulder, watching as the toddler scrambled to get out of her seat.

But as Mimi climbed out of her seat, the paper plate that Chan had used as a makeshift paint palette fell to the ground with a splat.

   “Oops.” The child muttered, glancing up to look at her father, who bit back.

   “It’s okay baby” Chan said, trying to keep his voice calm despite the growing chaos. “Just bring Daddy the paper towels, please.”

He wasn’t sure what he was trying to salvage at this point. The bottle had already emptied its contents onto the table and the carpet. All he was really doing now was playing in the mess, his hands and forearms smeared with blue paint.

Mimi handed him the paint-stained paper towels, finger-prints from her own messy hands. The toddler eyes filled with curiosity as she watched him dab at the remaining blue pool.

   “Mommy’s carpet is messy.” She stated the obvious, her feet squishing against the blue liquid on the furry rug as she played in it.

   “I’ll clean over there!” She announced, grabbing some paper towels and running toward the mess she had made back there.

   “Mimi wait—”

But of course, she didn’t stop. Her blue footprints marked every step she took. Chan could only watch in dismay as the mess spread and his daughter, now resembling a walking paintbrush, continued her impromptu cleanup.

He inhaled deeply, trying to keep himself calm.

   “I’m freaking screwed.” He muttered to himself.

────────────────────────

She hummed on her way back, feeling light and refreshed after a delightful morning with friends and the emotional moment of being asked to be her best friend’s bridesmaid. Y/N was glad she hadn’t canceled, as it had been a much-needed breath of fresh air. Plus, she had learned a surprising lesson about motherhood that morning.

But when she entered the house, which was eerily quiet except for the distant animated voice from the television, she narrowed her brows in confusion.

   “I’m home!” She announced, trading her shoes for house slippers.

Before she could even make it past the threshold, Chan slid to a stop in front of her, arms extended to block her path. Y/N stared at her husband in surprise. Parts of his face was smeared in blue, his fingers stained with what used to be paint.

   “Please don’t be mad. I’m sorry.” He pleaded, a guilty expression all over his face.

The stunned wife slowly narrowed her gaze, nudging past him. “What happened—”

And she didn’t get to finish her sentence. Her eyes widened as she took in the sight. Blue splashes covered the rug, vibrant against its white fur. There were blue footprints and red and yellow handprints on the dining table, the chairs, and even the tissue roll holder. Streaks of spillage marked the dark floorboards, cleaned haphazardly.

   “It’s my fault. I put the paint on the table and got distracted, Mimo didn’t do anything.”

Mimi, who had been sent to another room and instructed to count to one hundred, decided she had counted enough. Although she struggled to recall numbers beyond thirteen, she had given up trying to continue. After hearing the mention of her name, she stepped into the living room, observing the quiet, tense atmosphere with big eyes.

   “Is daddy in trouble?” She asked, her small voice full of concern, even though most of the mess was unintentionally her doing.

Y/N turned to find her daughter, now more of a mess than when she had left her. It was clear Chan had tried to clean her up, but she was still stained with paint.

Washable my ass. Chan had muttered, once he had realized the paint wasn’t coming off easily.

Chan thinned his lips, attempting a smile at the toddler, but his eyes stayed anxiously fixed on Y/N.

It wasn’t until Y/N laughed, fingers covering her mouth to stifle her loud cackle at the ridiculousness of the situation, that Chan stood there dumbfounded.

He swore she had finally snapped, that her patience had broken. That she had finally lost it.

   “Oh baby, look at you!” Y/N crouched down, arms outstretched for her three-year-old to come into.

Mimi ran into her mother’s arms, mirroring her laughter.

   “Are…you not upset?” Chan questioned, still not fully convinced.

Y/N glanced back at the rug, then back at her husband.

   “Should I be? I mean, it already happened. There’s not much we can do about it now, can we?” She smiled at the child in her arms, lifting Mimi’s jaw to take in her paint-streaked face up close.

And she was laughing again.

Her words echoed Chan’s usual calm demeanor, but coming from her, they made him nervous. He stood silent, unsure of what to make of her reaction.

Sensing his continued worry, Y/N stood and walked over to him, examining him as she had Mimi.

   “You two look like smurfs.” She said, stifling another laugh as she took his stained fingers, drawing his knuckles closer.

He sighed, gripping her hand gently.

   “You’re really not upset? I know you were really worried about that rug.” He seemed disappointed in himself, upset that he couldn’t prevent the mess.

Y/N shook her head, smiling as she looked back at the ruined rug.

   “Not upset, I promise.” 

Chan wondered what had brought this sudden change in her demeanor. He was sure she would have berated him with “I told you so’s” or remained silent until her disappointment simmered down. That she would have regret ever leaving.

   “I learned something at brunch today.” Y/N said as she returned to Mimi’s side, starting to undo the buttons of her dress for a proper cleanup.

   “All my other friends were telling me about their children and the havoc they caused. I was surprised that our Mimi was an angel compared to the tales I heard.” The mother laughed.

   “Then thinking back to the disasters our daughter caused, I realized our Mimi isn’t reckless, she’s just a little clumsy.” She looked up at Chan, who raised an eyebrow.

   “That’s what I’ve been telling you for so long.” Chan said, though he sounded slightly bemused.

Y/N shook her head. “Yeah, I wasn’t fully convinced.”

Chan sighed, crossing his arms over his chest, still smiling.

   “But you better clean all of this up.” She added, her brows furrowing with the stern expression Chan had expected much earlier.

   “Yes ma’am, I’ll leave this place spotless.” Chan nodded.

While the parents talked, the toddler got closer to the painted rug, crouching down to see if the blue had dried, much like the smudges and streaks on her face and her dress. But it hadn’t, and she stared at it on her finger.

   “Shit!” She exclaimed loudly.

Both parents snapped their heads toward Mimi. Chan, who had momentarily forgotten in his earlier state of frenzy, of how impressionable his daughter was, gulped nervously. He could feel the hot glare his wife was shooting him, too scared to meet her angry gaze.

   “I-it was the creepy Picasso puppet.” Chan attempted to lie, though it was obvious it wouldn’t work.

Her raised brow and crossed arms were clear indication of it.

   “Hey, at least she used it in the right context.” Chan continued, trying to lighten the mood, his wife only stared at him in disbelief.

   “Clean. Now.” Y/N ordered, walking over to pick up her Little Picasso for her second bath, with the tell-tale signs of another cheesy grin on her face.

Seeing which Chan also broke into a grin.

   “Wash me next!” He couldn’t help but laugh, rushing after the mother-daughter duo, his wife playfully pushing him away with a nudge of her arm.

And even though Mimi’s painting skills were what her father liked to call “abstract,” the little canvas of her red, yellow, and green blobs was definitely a family portrait according to Chan, was hung proudly in her parents’ room.

   “A colorful disaster that captured the essence of our family. Our Little Picasso is a genius!”

Again, a proud father’s words we might have to fact check. ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━ end.

[azulock]

sorry for the sporadic posts, aside from my wrist just healing recently, I've been working nonstop, sadly it seems I'm in my hustle era ugh, but here, have a lil something on the house

how the guys get off when you're not around

panty stealer.

whenever he leaves for a trip at least one of your panties leaves with him. maybe more. and of course, he's gonna go for the used ones. can be found jacking off vigorously with his nose buried in the underwear he stole whenever he misses you too much. or just whenever he gets horny. if he knows hell stay away for long enough he is for sure stealing more than one pair.

ISAGI, NESS, BACHIRA, Shidou, Hiori, Rin

cinephile.

if a picture is worth a thousand words, a video is even more. his second favorite thing is watching the filthy videos he has of you - the first is filming them. he can't deny the appeal in filming you getting fucked by him, an appeal that gest him going even faster whenever he's horny and alone. he's gonna have his cock in one hand and the phone in another, stroking himself and imagining the next thing you two will film.

OLIVER, KAISER, KARASU, Shidou, Sendo, Reo

voice kink.

it doesn't even matter what you are saying, really, especially when he's missing you you could be saying anything and he'd get horny in the spot. he's gonna pull up whatever audio of yours he has, or even a video, he doesn't care for the image, all he cares is for the sound of your voice. if he's feeling so bold he might even call you, say he misses you, and try to silently jack off while you talk about your day.

NAGI, REO, KUNIGAMI, Sae, Sendo, Ness

phone sex.

sometimes it just becomes too much, and he just needs a little more than a photo, a video, or some other memento of you. sometimes he needs you there, even if from a distance, even if he can't see you. but just hearing how horny and needy you are for him on the other end of the call already has him crazy. and it just builds up anticipation for how he'll see you, and touch you, soon enough.

NAGI, SHIDOU, SAE, Ness, Kunigami, Oliver

cam guy.

when missing you becomes way too much for him to bear with he always ends up needing to see you, even if you are on the other end of the continent. it's not exactly what he wants, but it's more than good enough. and getting yo see your body, getting to see you masturbate through the camera is hot as fuck, there's no denying that. and he just might like seeing himself through the camera too? yeah, just a little bit tho.

OLIVER, SHIDOU, KAISER, Sendo, Reo, Karasu

[winterrrnight]

“here we are again” — new beginnings chapter II

PAIRING: stepdad!soft!rafe x mom!reader

WARNINGS: none!

EDITH SPEAKS: hello mls! I hope you enjoy reading this chapter <3 just a lil note: updates will get a bit sporadic for the upcoming week or so because I have some big things coming up which unfortunately require more attention than my silly little fics :( I greatly apologise for that, but let me tell you once I'm free I'll have great fics awaiting you all!!

please like and reblog if you enjoyed reading and don't hesitate to let me know any of your thoughts 💕💕

navigation || join my taglist || requests || series masterlist

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↶ೃ✧˚. ❃ ↷ ˊˎ-

You let out a huge sigh as you lean back in your chair and close your eyes shut. You’ve been trying to find a good preschool for Sage, after you had to pull her out of the one she was earlier in because their fees increased exponentially, and unfortunately you haven’t been earning enough to support Sage going to such an expensive school.

“Mamma mamma!” You hear her call you out from a different room. Her footsteps are audible as she comes running to you, basically banging the floor with her feet.

“Mamma!” She says, smiling wide, standing next to the front legs of your chair and tugging on your pants. You look down at her and plaster a big smile on your face, picking her up and placing her on your lap.

“Yes baby?” You coo, leaning to press a kiss on her soft cheek, which is tinted a light pink.

“I made something for you! You have to see it now,” she says, now tugging on your crewneck. You get up from your chair, Sage on your hip as you go to the room she was just in.

You set her down on the floor, and she picks up a folded paper. “Here,” she grins, and you take the paper from her.

You unfold it and you see a drawing of you, her, and one strange man standing next to the two of you. She’s colored in the drawings, her colors going out of her drawn lines, assuming their own directions, but nevertheless, you can’t help but grin wide at the present.

“Sage baby,” you get on your knees in front of her, “this is so cute! You’re my talented little kiddo, aren’t you?” You smile, tickling her sides. She laughs and squirms to get away from you, her little hands trying to swat you away.

“But who is that?” You ask, pointing at the drawing of the strange man.

“Fafe!” She yells excitedly.

“Fafe? Who’s ‘Fafe’ baby?”

“We met him, at the, at the store! He was big, veryyy big!”

And suddenly it strikes you. The handsome, handsome man who you met at the grocery store. It’s been around a week since that day and you had nearly forgotten about him.

Nearly.

Until this exact moment.

Now everything comes back to you; the exact moment you saw him, your eyes sinking into his, your heart beating so loud it might as well jump out of your chest.

“I remember him baby, why did you draw him?”

“Because, because he was very nice to me,” she says, her hands at her back as she’s swaying side to side in her position.

You aren’t sure what to reply to her with. She drew a man you met and didn’t even talk for more than five minutes on a random Tuesday, and showed you three being a family.

Dad, mom, and Sage. A family.

Is she expecting you two to just get married to him? To bring him in your house this quick?

But, at the end of the day, she’s a four year old little girl, with a wild imagination, and a desire to have a father figure in her life.

You’ve tried your level best to never let Sage feel the lack of a father in her life, but you always knew deep in your heart that one day, she will wonder why she only has a single parent, and why can’t she have two parents like all her friends. But you never expected this day to come so early.

You shake your head and come back to reality, and let a smile pull onto your lips. “I’ll hang this on the fridge next to all your other art,” you tell her, and she jumps up and down with excitement. You make your way to your kitchen, your daughter on your heels as she’s giggling, and you pin her drawing up with a magnet next to the rest. You take a step back to admire the splash of colors on your fridge door, your heart feeling content.

↶ೃ✧˚. ❃ ↷ ˊˎ-

You smooth out the wrinkles in her dress, and tie the bow of her dress tightly. Sage is especially giggly today, your hands roaming over her little body which constantly creates a tickling sensation on her skin.

“Mamma, where are we going?” She asks you, carefully pocketing a candy you gave her. You pick her up and take her to your kitchen island, settling her in her chair to hand her her cereal.

“We’re going to a new school baby,” you say, pouring milk into her bowl and mixing it well with her fruit loops.

“But, I love home,” she puts, her eyes big and wide, and you know she’s trying her best to convince you to stay at home by putting on a puppy dog face.

“You know that face doesn’t work on me,” you smile, sitting next to her, and gently smoothing a hand over her hair. She only giggles as her answer and you pick up her spoon, and start to feed her. Even though she knows how to eat on her own, you’re worried she might get messy and spill the milk on her dress.

You were worried she might not like the idea of going to a new school. She really liked the previous one, but you knew you couldn’t keep her in there for long. But here she is sitting next to you, eating her cereal as excitedly as if you’re about to go to an amusement park.

Once she’s done eating, you both leave for the school. This one also happens to be closer to your home than the last one, so you're quick to reach there. You help Sage get out of the car, her light bag hanging on her shoulders and her hand securely in yours, as you lead her to the main doors of the school.

When you go inside, the receptionist leads you to the classroom Sage has been assigned to. A few children are sitting on the floor of the classroom, empty white sheets spread around them along with unopened boxes of paint.

You hear Sage audibly gasp as she notices all the art supplies, her eyes shining with a desire to create art. You look around the classroom to spot a teacher, but there’s no one to be seen.

You decide to maybe talk to the receptionist once again; maybe she’s making a mistake? You leave Sage in the classroom and turn around, and almost in the next fraction of the second you bang into a broad chest.

“Oh gosh I’m so sorry!” You grunt, your eyes closed from the impact. You run a hand over your forehead, feeling a slight pain from your collision into the broad and muscular chest.

You finally open your eyes, and you see the last person you would expect to be here.

“Rafe?”

↶ೃ✧˚. ❃ ↷ ˊˎ-

what do you all think Rafe is doing there? 🤭

TAGLIST: @runningfrom2am @saccharinesammie @maybankslover @totalswag @madelynie @chenslucy @ietss @elle-mp3 @viawritesstuff @wallsdreams @tahliac11 @sadfury @newsies-pape-girl @jamesbuckybarneswify @xxxlaura @thatsthewaythechrissycrumbles @callsignwidow @starkowswife @rafeinterlude @rylie-m @zulema222 @karmasloverrr @leixwhite02 @congratsloserr @rubixgsworld @dilvcv @fandom-life-12 @drewstarkeyswifehoe @jjchaer @f4ll-for-you @fishingirl12 @wearemadeofstardust0 @drewsmusee

(please let me know if you would like to be added or removed! if you would like to be added to my general taglist, please refer the ‘join my taglist’ post linked on top!)

[intothegenshinworld]

Fate’s Destiny ~ Chapter 9 || Gnoses

You somehow, not being able to explain it, had fallen into the Genshin world you know oh-so-well. You were no new player and had explored most of the nooks and crannies of the world. When you first had woken up in Windrise you wondered; it might be a dream, after all, you were behind your screen usually, and now- here? It made no sense, and the world was keen on keeping it that way.

Warnings: Spoilers for main story.

Word count: 6.4k+

Summary chapter 9: we continue where we left off; you with the gnosis in the inn and Kaeya bursting through the door. Why is here here in Liyue? And more importantly; will he be able to aid you with your deteriorating memories?

Auteurs note: The beginning of the year was a bit hectic. Expect sporadic updates!

Thanks to: all the people who showed love on the last chapter <3

↺ PREVIOUS CHAPTER || ↻ NEXT CHAPTER || MASTERLIST

Kaeya stands in the doorframe. He is out of breath. You watch his chest rise and fall rapidly, and his expression is twisted into distress, a strange thing for a supposedly joyful reunion. 

“Kaeya?” You watch a drop of water fall from his navy blue hair onto the wooden floor below. “I don’t understand… What are you doing here?” 

As you gaze at him, his expression softens. His gritted teeth relax, making his mouth fall open, and his eyes soften as he stops furrowing his brows. He radiates stress, yet you can still sense his usual warm and inviting aura.

A grunt escapes his lips and you watch him struggle to get any words from his mind out of his mouth.

Worry now flashes across your face as you turn your head to look over at Lumine. “Did something happen?” 

Aside from Kaeya, the Cavalry Captain from Mondstadt being in Liyue , she too seemed distressed when she first opened the door. Her golden eyes make contact with yours before they move over to the side. She stares at something slightly to the left of you. When you follow her gaze, your eyes meet the gnosis standing solitary on the table.

Without any thought, you’re reaching your hand forward to the potent object, securing it in your seemingly powerless hold before returning her gaze.

The gnosis hums a low tune throughout your body. "Are we in danger?" 

Lumine quickly shakes her head. “No, no. We’re fine.” With the flick of her wrist she turns the handle of her sword, dissipating it into elemental particles that shimmer in the air before disappearing. She continues, “Nothing happened.” 

“But Kaeya?" With confusion, you gesture your free hand to him. The whole ordeal seemed too strange for her answer to be ‘nothing’.  

“He…” Lumine trails off as she looks up at the Cavalry Captain. 

He still hasn’t said anything at all. Not a ‘hi!’, not a ‘how have you been? Last time I saw you we were about to get into a fight on Dragonspine.’; nothing. And when you start to think about it, you’re unsure whether you prefer the silence over the inevitable explaining you’ll have to do. 

“He had a long journey,” Lumine says as she gives him a pat on the back. “I think he needs a shower and some dry clothes before he’ll be able to explain everything.” 

“Right.” 

You look over at him. If only you could tell him he’s awaiting a much worse explanation from your side than he'll ever be able to present himself. Nonetheless, a smile finds its way onto your face as you watch your familiar companion move through the room.

Kaeya was able to salvage his spare clothes from his drenched backpack—which probably has seen better days. You admit he does appear to be in a better state once out of the shower. You had only traveled long distances once with Lumine, and his journey from Mondstadt city to Liyue harbour was much longer than the one you made. Perhaps he’d been overwhelmed instead of distressed. 

As you observe him, he notices your fixated gaze on him and he sends you a toothy smile, one which you return with joy. “You look better.” 

“You too.” He replies.

You're unsure of the meaning behind his words. When you try to think about it, your mind blanks. Had you really looked worse in Mondstadt? All you can remember is the cold welcome you had gotten, so perhaps he meant you looked more relaxed?

For a while, you can’t quite grasp your head around the situation, and you’re not sure why. If anything, with your dull eyes and your skin seeming to fade into transparency, you should look worse.

Your eyes follow Lumine as she walks across the room. Once she reaches your side, she takes a seat on the couch next to you. On her other side, Paimon stops flying and plops down with a soft thud. The pixie had been quiet when the three first came back, but she’s returned to filling the air with her usual chatter again. 

A high-pitched voice interjects the silence.‘’Paimon knows everyone is relaxing, but Paimon is still confused. We know that Kaeya was in Liyue as a diplomat to check up on local business, but that doesn’t make sense. Why would the Acting Grand Master send Kaeya after Rex Lapis returned?”

Kaeya crosses his legs and sends her a teasing smile. “What can I say? Word about the geo Archon’s death spreads faster than his revival.’’ He twirls his hand into the air, “When I was on the road, rumors had already begun to circulate. With new information but no visual confirmation of it, I wouldn’t have been able to return to Jean, would I?’’

“Paimon knew that!” She huffs and crosses her arms over her chest. 

You catch a fleeting moment of eye contact between Kaeya and Lumine. With the latter next to you and the former on the loveseat across, it’s inevitable, yet you refrain from pointing it out. 

An unsettling feeling arises in your chest. 

You feel left out.

After a moment longer, you clear your throat. “So nothing happened after we got separated on Dragonspine?”

Kaeya’s eyes move from your figure over to your Lumine once more. Despite being happy to see him again, neither of you had a chance to say goodbye when you suddenly ended up in Liyue. And now he’s here, sharing hesitant glances with your travel companions while everyone refrains from giving you the full story of what had happened in your absence.

“To be honest, you certainly gave Albedo and me a scare when you disappeared. Admittedly, it took a while to convince Eula to calm down, but once Albedo’s doppelganger left, we all dropped our weapons to figure out what had happened.“ Kaeya sighs and shakes his head. “Not that it made much sense after. But… I was able to feel your aura. Though I wasn’t able to pin down where you went, I knew you were alive. And for the first few days, that was enough.“

“Wait, a doppelganger ?“

“Yeah,“ Kaeya tries to smile confidently but he ends up cringing instead, “We let Albedo handle that one on his own.“

“So the Acting Grand Master is not mad for you hiding me?”

Kaeya locks eyes with you, his gaze strong and unwavering. He sends a warm smile your way. Despite the tension from before, you feel your heart skip a beat. “I am thankful, but please don’t worry about me, dearest Creator.”

You feel the weight of the gnosis in your pocket. It suddenly feels like a heavy burden. For a moment, you felt yourself again, but with the way Kaeya said it, you have to believe his words; you are the Creator.

“Woah. Paimon suddenly feels very grateful that Paimon didn’t give you an ugly nickname.“ You watch Paimon shiver as she imagines it. “Though we’ve already met a god, the Creator of everything seems much more powerful.”

A laugh escapes your lips, breaking the short silence. “What nickname would you have given me?“

“Well…“ Paimon buckles under the pressure of your curious gaze. For a moment, she intensely thinks about it, only to shake her hands defensively in front of her figure right after. “Paimon obviously can’t say it!“

Lumine taps Paimon’s shoulder, throwing her off balance. “And this is why you shouldn’t give every single person you meet an ugly nickname.“ 

“Paimon can’t help it!“

The warm sound of infectious laughter reverberates through the room. Kaeya holds a hand to his stomach, the eye without the patch closed. As he struggles to compose himself, his victorious smile radiates, casting a warm glow across the room. “Seems you've found your place here quite seamlessly.”

Paimon huffs, arms crossed. “We tried to tell you.” Her expression sours, “But Paimon thinks Lumine would’ve been worried as well if she had many bad dreams like you did.” 

Your eyebrow raises before they settle into a frown. “Bad dreams?” You turn your head to Kaeya who looks guilty. “You’ve been unwell?” 

“Don’t worry.” Lumine cuts in and a sigh of relief echoes through the room. “A lot has happened these past few weeks but I promise you that Paimon and I will keep you safe. Simply focus on getting your memories back. Afterward, all should be better for everyone.”

Lumine speaks rationally but her promise doesn’t sit well with you. Ultimately, try as you might, there was no counterargument against her. Even as the Creator, with your remaining memories slipping through your fingers, there was nothing you could do. 

Seeing the outlander's determined gaze, you find yourself unable to mirror the same resolve. As thoughts circulate, you start to feel pressure build up in your mind, trying desperately to cling to the last memories of your identity. 

“I must say, I’ve been quite curious.” Kaeya saves you from your thoughts as he speaks out to you. “You seem to have a more exciting story to tell compared to mine. Meeting the geo Archon and simultaneously reviving him after he fakes his death just because he wants to be with you? Now that’s a headline.” 

“It’s less exciting than it seems. It might be a long and boring conversation.”

Kaeya crosses his arms and makes himself comfortable in the lovechair. “We’ve got all the time in the world, my dearest Creator.”

After Kaeya prompted you to talk about your adventures, you rambled for nearly two hours. Not that he ever seemed to mind your neverending word vomit. Throughout your one-sided catching up, he kept an inviting smile on his face, only ever interrupting you to ask questions that got you talking for even longer. 

Lucky for you, with the rain continuously pouring outside there wasn’t any rush for Kaeya to leave. For a moment you could let all your worries out. It was a nice change of pace from glaring at the gnosis and hoping it’d give you back your memories in due time. 

You move in your seat. “Are you staying in Liyue for long?”

Kaeya inhales sharply. He lowers his head, causing the curtain of his bangs to cascade over his face. “While I’d love to be at your side for longer, my ride back to Mondstadt is leaving tomorrow and I still have business to take care of.” 

A silent nod conveys your understanding. While you weren’t surprised at his answer, you had hoped he could aid you in your quest to recover your memories. His presence alone had been enough to make you feel at ease during these distressing times. 

“Oh?” Kaeya smiles playfully. “You look at me as if this is goodbye.”

“It’s not?” 

“I certainly hope not.” He fixes the strands of hair that hang in front of his covered eye. “Besides, it is fate that has led us together all this time. I have the feeling that I’ll see you again sooner or later.”

You smile to yourself. “I wouldn’t mind that.”

After giving you a firm nod, Kaeya stands up from the lovechair. He stretches both of his legs and then moves his head to face Lumine. You’re unable to capture their expressions from your position but you witness them nod once—seemingly in agreement, before returning their attention to you. 

Kaeya speaks up first, letting out a laugh between words. “I better head out before my ride gets upset.”

The pixie hovers closer, “Paimon was wondering, who took you to Liyue? Paimon doubts anyone would willingly visit this chaos. It must be someone important, right?”

“Some people would argue his importance in this situation, but yes. You know him. A certain redhead we’re both familiar with had to check up on business after his connections got shut down. And I won’t say no to an opportunity where I can steal a few bottles of wine in the shipment he’s making.”

“Oh!” Paimon realizes something. “You mean Diluc? He is the only winemaker with red hair that we met in Mondstadt.”

“And basically the one to own the entire industry there,” Kaeya states playfully. He turns his head back to you. 

A torrent of emotions engulfs you, a tumultuous mix of grief, joy, fear, resentment, bliss, and emptiness,—each of them hitting harder than the last.

It disappears as quick as lighting strikes, leaving you to doubt if these emotions were real or a figment of imagination. 

Kaeya speaks again, pulling you back into the presence. “Good luck with everything. I know you’ll figure this out, whatever ‘it’ might be.” He then looks at Lumine, “I fear you’ll have to be better at protecting them than I have. Be safe, alright?”

The traveler meets his gaze, giving him a reassuring nod that acts as a silent promise. 

Before closing the door, Kaeya sends each of you a wave. A bittersweet feeling swirls in your stomach as you bid him goodbye. “Safe travels, Kaeya.”

Paimon, too, waves at him as the door closes.

“Bye Kaeya!”

Lumine seems different ever since she returned with Kaeya. Something is off. She seems worried. 

Paimon, on the other hand, seems more cheerful than before. She clings to your side whenever she’s allowed to and has spent the last hour discussing all the things you should do together after you regain your memories. 

You don’t have the heart to tell her that you fear it might never happen at this point.

“So… What do you want to do next? Paimon saw how much Kaeya’s advice seemed to help you. Maybe you needed the short break from the gnosis.”

Right, Kaeya did give you advice on the matter. 

You look down at the gnosis in your hand. Kaeya had never seen one before, which made sense, but it took you some effort to explain what it was without making things complicated. Such a small object holds such a great power. It’s ridiculous.

He turns his eyes from the gnosis back to you as he starts speaking. “Why don’t you ask Rex Lapis himself? After all, he is the best person to seek answers from. As much as I love Mondstadt, I fear our Archon is as free as its people, so I can’t advise you to come back with me on a journey to find the lost Barbatos.”

You remember how your mind spun at his words. For some reason, his advice seemed so familiar. Even now, you don’t doubt you had heard it before and had simply forgotten. With memories slipping in and out, it’s hard to make out what you did and didn’t already do.

Then, you recall Zhongli. Or, Rex Lapis as you should say. He gave you the gnosis, something you supposedly had given him in the past. 

Was he right to put his faith in you?

“I think I’m afraid of disappointment. Zhongli—I mean Rex Lapis—he looked at me with so much confidence… as if I could save the world if I wanted to and yet I’m unable to remember anything about myself.” You look down at your hands. “I’m afraid his belief in me might be misplaced. What if I’m a fake after all?”

Kaeya was quick to respond. So quick, your doubts washed away with his words. “I assure you, you’re not.” 

He had moved his hand on top of yours, the gnosis now engulfed by both your hands and one of his. If he felt the vibrations from it, he did a good job of hiding it. The suave smile he sends you floods your brain with shortlived memories, enough to last a lifetime of him by your side. 

Then his hand squeezes, and he speaks again. “I might not worship the geo Archon, but I’m confident he’ll answer any questions you’ll have.”

The gnosis is currently on the table. The moment Kaeya left, you put it down and away from yourself. Its glow is dim once you’re out of reach and you no longer feel its energy pulse through your body. It’s a relief. 

Maybe you should arrange a meeting between you and Zhongli. It’s not like you hadn’t thought of it before. But the question remains; how? You weren’t ready to expose yourself to the public as long as you didn't have answers, so how could you contact him discreetly?

Lumine finally decides to enter the conversation between you and Paimon by sitting down next to you. She seems hesitant, and it takes her a moment to voice her own opinions. ”If you’re not sure what to do next, we can always wait a few more days. There’s no need to rush this.”

You want to agree with her, you really do, but you know you’re running out of time. 

You can feel it slipping away while a feeling of impending doom nestles in its place.

”I know I’d want to meet the geo Archon again. Last time I was overwhelmed and I had no idea how to even talk with him, but now I’m prepared. I’m sure I’ll be able to get answers this time.”

”Paimon is so excited!” She floats up before hovering down again. ”It seems like you finally know what to do to get your memories back.”

You let out a breath of air you had been holding on to. ”I don’t, but Rex Lapis will.”

”So you’re meeting him again?” Lumine asks. 

You nod. ”I’m not sure how to get his attention though. Last time he made a big spectacle. I hope to avoid that this time to preserve the little privacy I have left.”

”Paimon is not sure who to ask either. But maybe Paimon and Lumine could ask the Qixing for you!”

You look at Lumine. She seems less keen on this plan and offers something else after a moment of thinking. ”We can go tomorrow morning together before crowds begin to form. This way you won’t be alone and you’ll immediately be able to meet Rex Lapis when we ask the Qixing for an audience.”

”Are you sure I won’t cause a commotion?” 

”Paimon and I have been in the city lots of times these past days. Usually, crowds start to form at eight in the morning.” Lumine looks up at the clock in the room. She seems to calculate something in her mind. ”The Qixing most certainly wakes before the common citizens do. If we head out right before the sun starts to rise, we will be fine.” 

You nod to yourself. It sounds like a good plan. With Lumine by your side, you will feel safe enough, and you’ll be wearing your trusty cloak, so you agree to her plan.

“It’s already so late. Paimon didn’t expect Kaeya to stay for as long as he did. Seems like he’s fond of chatting, as usual.” She states in a dramatic tone which makes you laugh. 

“Maybe, but I enjoyed the reunion. I feel more certain about myself. I’m not sure why though.”

“You know,” Lumine hesitates, “You can talk to us as well if you need it.”

There’s an underlying disappointment in her words. You’re not sure if it’s directed to you or herself, but she makes a fair point. In these past few weeks, you haven’t made the best effort to properly ask her for help when you needed it, even when she had been ready to set aside her own mission to aid you. You hid your troubles away, which might’ve only made her more worried as a result.

You look at your hands. They feel distant from you and you can see the floor through your skin. Seems like that hasn’t changed.

Tomorrow you’ll properly thank her for all she’s done. Hopefully, when you meet Rex Lapis all the missing puzzle pieces will fall in place and you’ll be able to recognize yourself again.

A yawn echoes through the room. “Well. Paimon is heading off to sleep. After all that talking and running around, Paimon can barely stand. If you need Paimon, wait till morning!” She lazily rubs her eyes one last time and then flies off, assumingly to sleep. 

“You should sleep too if you can.“ Lumine says. “Tomorrow is a big day if all goes well.“

A sigh escapes your lips. “I hope so.“

With a swift but calculated motion, you grab the gnosis from the table and stand up from the couch. Familiar energy pulses vibrate through your body, but instead of making you feel alert and awake, it soothes you and puts you in a relaxed state.

“Goodnight, y/n.“

You put your last remaining energy into a smile for Lumine. “Goodnight.“

You don’t quite remember waking up. Hell-, it’s still pitch dark when you stand outside of the main exit to the inn, ready to confront an Archon for answers. However, it would undoubtedly turn into another tea party if it were up to Zhongli.

The only comfort you get this morning comes from the energy flowing from the gnosis into your body. It hums and cradles the nerves inside your chest. Once again, you look back down for the so-manyth-time since stepping outside. And once more, the glow of the gnosis is concealed by your cloak.

You just need to keep it safe for a while longer. A low hum echoes through your mind in agreement, and you squeeze the gnosis just a tad tighter to your body.

A voice squeaks over your loud thoughts, “Paimon isn’t sure where we should look first. Maybe we could ask the people at the docks for some information? They always seem to know a lot.“

Lumine huffs out a sarcastic laugh. “Word travels faster to the Qixing than we’ll find it. All we have to do is walk around the harbor and wait.”

“Do you think it’d be that easy?” You reply.

“Yes. Even before, the Qixing is widely known to have eyes everywhere. And with the Creator walking around in their domain, it’s only natural for their gaze to be fixed upon us.”

As the three of you depart from the inn and further into the harbour you find yourself growing more anxious. There are only a few people visible on the streets. Most of these people are setting up shops or stalls to prepare for the crowds that’ll inevitably suffocate these streets within mere hours, but it’s not the people who make you nervous. It’s the festive decorations that have been put up. 

More than once, you realized it had been a celebration for the Creator, so you can only hope no one will recognize you while your face is pasted on every corner of Liyue.

Paimon, who’s been floating next to you, turns her head to the side. “Paimon thinks you don’t have to worry. Remember the lady who was with Rex Lapis when he gave you the gnosis?”

You nod. If you hadn’t been as caught up in your world you probably would’ve spent more time observing her, but it was hard to forget a face like hers. She looked familiar.

“Well, she’s the Qixing’s Tianquan, Ningguang. From the Jade Chamber above, she is aware of every confidential meeting, every private conversation, and every new visitor to the city! A storyteller once told Paimon that she enchanted the Jade Chamber in a way that allows her to eavesdrop on everyone in the city's private conversations.” 

Paimon visibly shudders after her own story. She wraps her arms around her body as she floats forward. “Though Paimon hopes that the last part is wrong. Anyways, she’ll surely find us like the traveller said.”

“Not to mention the geo Archon himself,” Lumine adds. “It’s only a matter of time. We just have to be confident it’s either one of them noticing us, and not the Fatui.”

As the three of you continue to walk through the harbor, you notice that Lumine never takes a shortcut and actively goes out of her way to remain in the public eye. A few people already recognized her and have waved in her direction, greeting the traveller and Paimon as they pass the stalls that seemingly appear out of nowhere. 

While it makes you uncomfortable, you realize Lumine is doing all of this on purpose. She’s actively putting herself in the spotlight while making sure you remain in her shadows. All to get the attention of the people you’ve been trying to reach. 

And while Lumine had mentioned the Fatui before, you had foolishly forgotten any enemies you could’ve made during your stay in Teyvat. After all, it wasn’t long ago that a whole nation had decided you were an imposter and tried to cause an uproar because of it.

Perhaps your comfort had been the exact reason why someone was able to grab hold of your arm and force your body into the dark ally. 

You hear Paimon yell before you can, the sharp movement of a sideways pull makes you feel as if you’re being dashed forward and successfully takes the breath out of your lungs, making you unable to scream for help.

A hand gently but firmly replaces its hold on your forearm. It guides you to the side and you’re certain you’ll fall—until you don’t. For some reason, your attacker tries to steady you, making sure you don’t tumble forward or hurt yourself. 

Your heart races against your ribcage and your breaths are shallow and fast. One moment you’re close to feeling safe in public and then you’re back into danger, or so you assume. 

You blink a few times, slowly getting adjusted to the darkness.

“Xiao?”  

Dark hair with teal undertones frames a pale face that homes a serious expression. Out of everyone, you hadn’t expected to see him today. While the situation he put you in was questionable, you trusted him.

His golden eyes move over your form until they hastily land on Lumine who now stands at the front of the entrance to the alley, her swords sheathed and appearing equally as confused and alarmed as you by the situation. She takes a step forward, hesitating to attack but determined enough to keep you safe if needed.

“You’re being followed.” Xiao’s warning is directed towards Lumine and his voice is a tone colder than it used to be in past conversations—there’s an unfamiliar sharp edge underneath his words. Xiao eyes something you can’t see. 

You finally register his words.

“Wait what? Who? ” 

“The Fatui.” Lumine spats the words out, catching on quicker than you do. Her voice is close to venom and she turns her body around to face the assumed stalker. Because of her reply, you’re certain she already knew the identity of the one following her. 

You try to turn your head towards the scene but with the way Xiao holds you, it’s impossible to fully capture what’s going on—and more importantly—who the person might be. You rely on your hearing to fill in the blank spaces. 

As you focus, you hear footsteps rapidly approaching. “Wait. Why would anyone,–” You struggle in Xiao’s protective hold, still trying to turn your head, and unlike what you’re willing to do, Xiao spends no time waiting to see who comes around the corner. 

Your vision darkens. It’s pitch black for a moment, and then a sharp light blinds you. You instinctively grip Xiao's arm for support, and in return, he holds you closer to his body. 

Teleporting three times ever since arriving in Teyvat, you’ve grown accustomed to the feeling. Still, it takes you a second before your surroundings stop spinning.

“Xiao, you need to go back.” With a sense of urgency and desperation you look around, noting both the absence of Lumine and Paimon through your spinning vision. Alarm seeps through your words, “You need to bring me back.”  

The Yaksha gapes and then closes his mouth. He’s holding out his arms as if he’s waiting for you to fall forward, or to comfort you, you’re not certain. Either way, he’s not helping you in this situation—he is not helping Lumine or Paimon.

“Please, Xiao. If the Fatui were following us it’d be my fault.”

A mocking laugh echoes through the room. “I highly doubt that.” The feminine voice sneers and you feel the room grow colder. As the woman continues to talk, you hear her smile through her voice. She continues to mock you. “Why, our Creator? Because it was I who ordered them to stop chasing your little friends. On behalf of the Tsaritsa, of course.”

You turn away from Xiao and towards the platinum-blonde woman standing next to Zhongli. Behind her, you see two people in what you recognize as fatui clothing. You take a moment to look her up and down. Her stance radiates confidence to a degree where it borders arrogance instead of intimidation. Her blond hair falls over her right shoulder and a black mask covers the same half of her face. When your eyes move to inspect her clothing, you first notice the elegant dress that morphs from a white color to a mix of pale brown and greyish color. It hugs her figure and it stands in contrast with the crimson-red colors of her sleeves, and what you assume to be, the cape that hangs over her shoulders.

It is only after you’re done with looking her over that you realize the cloak had fallen from your head and thus had revealed your own face. Light grey eyes are busy inspecting you in the same way you inspected her, though she seems to be far quicker with making her judgment. In one quick swoop, she eyes your character before her eyes remain stuck on your torso.

“So that’s where the gnosis went.” The woman chuckles once more and you intuitively hold the small object closer to your figure, desperately trying to shield it away. 

“Relax, Creator .” She calls out your title in a mocking way, “The Tsaritsa already called everyone back. I no longer have use for it.”

“Who are you?” You spat out in response to her sardonic jab.

Her face changes at your question, and her expression is unlike anything you’ve seen from her in the past minute. Your words had genuinely amused her.  

“Never heard of the Fatui Harbingers before? I must admit, I’m a bit embarrassed.” Her confidence replaces any kindness or pity you might’ve seen in that short moment of genuinity, and you frown in response.

Xiao shifts behind you and it’s a hard reminder that you weren’t alone in the room. Your eyes glance over from the woman to Zhongli, who lightly tilts his head in response to your recognition. 

“La Signora,“ He lifts a hand and gestures it towards the woman next to him. “Is the Eight of The Eleven Fatui Harbingers. They are acquainted with the Tsaritsa, or as you know her, the cryo Archon.“

Your mind gets stuck in a moment of stupid clarity.

Right. I am the Creator. I should know the Archons. 

And despite your better judgment, you ask the Harbinger;

“The cryo Archon, no–, the Tsaritsa. Do you… does she know about my memories? Are you here to help?“

The eyes of La Signora widen and you realise you startled her with your question. Of all things, she had not expected this. That much was obvious to anyone in the room. 

Like La Signora, the two Fatui guards behind her stiffen up. They share a glance of confusion as they remain on one knee behind the Harbinger. 

“Your… memories?” The blonde woman in front of you squints her eyes. Her voice is uncertain and she seems to test the words in her mouth. 

While her smile remains, you can sense the mask behind her faux confidence as she ponders over your question about your lost memories. 

You’re glad to know neither Zhongli nor Xiao had mentioned your memory problems to her. At least they give you control over who to share it with and who not, though, that raises the question of why she was here originally.

You turn your head to Zhongli. You feel like a fish out of the water so you instinctively try to chase comfort in his presence. “We were searching for you. Well, technically we were searching for the Qixing to contact you– what I’m trying to say is .” You take an inhale so the following words don’t come out in the wrong way. “I wanted to talk to you about, well, everything.”

Zhongli nods urging you silently to continue without a care for the others in the room.

“I’ve been trying to get my memories from the gnosis but after spending literal days staring at it in frustration, I feel like it’s only getting worse.” I feel as if I’m losing my mind.

You clutch the gnosis a bit tighter in your hand. Soft vibrations echo through your body and it steadies you. 

You speak with more confidence, “I want to know why I’m here. I want to know who I am.”

Zhongli takes a calculated breath, “I’d prefer it if we were to discuss this in a more private setting, your Grace. That is if you don’t mind.”

You shake your head. “Not at all. I probably shouldn’t’ve assumed the Harbingers or the Tsaritsa to know.”

With Zhongli’s request for privacy, you wonder if the woman had been better off not knowing about your situation. In the corner of your eyes, you can see thoughts race behind her cold eyes. Either way, word is bound to reach the Tsaritsa sooner or later. Your memories won’t become better without a solution, so you’re not bothered by this revelation. If anything, it might prompt the cryo Archon to answer your questions and recover your memory if possible. 

“La Signora.” Zhongli addresses the woman with an intimidating undertone. She snaps out of her thoughts and her confidence returns in the blink of an eye.

She snaps her fingers and the two fatui members stand up straight behind her. 

“It seems like our mission is finished here.” She doesn’t seem to address anyone in particular but the Fatui members respond with a simple, ‘Yes, lord Harbinger’.

“Creator–” She calls out your title with less mockery than before, “it was a pleasure to meet you.” 

You mirror her words, realizing that it was the first time she had truthfully told you what had been on her mind. Whether for good or bad, she would not forget this interaction anytime soon.

And so, La Signora makes her exit. She doesn’t waste time with any more pleasantries and disappears almost as fast as you had appeared. When the doors close behind her, the tense atmosphere dissipates as well.

With the stressful situation out of the way, your mind instinctively moves to observe the unfamiliar room you had been teleported into. 

Your gaze glides across the room. You are greeted by a warm and strangely familiar atmosphere. The room has the same style as the one in the inn, but it radiates more luxury and wealth, almost to an exaggerated point. 

The deep orange hues from the lights above dominate the room, casting a soft golden glow on everything it touches and complimenting the golden lining in the wooden cabinets, desks, and chairs. Aside from the obvious golden details nearly everywhere in the room, the other furniture exudes an air of luxury and sophistication, not unexpected—considering Zhongli seems to be using it as his office right now. 

Everything seems to be carefully placed with a purpose. 

Wooden screens divide the room, hiding you from the maids and workers walking around and giving you some privacy with the Archon and yaksha. And as you move your head around further, your eyes fall onto the silk tapestries that are suspended from the ceiling. They depict important historical figures and events in Liyue. When you look closer, you see a figure that seems to represent you. 

Zhongli walks up to you. 

He smiles as he follows your line of sight. "I admit that Miss Ningguang has exquisite taste when it comes to decorating. The line between modern and antique furniture overlaps in a tasteful way, and yet nothing seems to be out of place."

"Wait, is that you, Xiao?" You point to a specific silk tapestry in the room. 

Xiao follows your pointed finger. The picture depicts you and Xiao, along with four other people you fail to recognize. It takes him a second to reply, "Yes."

"Do you recall any of these moments?" Zhongli, who remains at your side, asks you with care.

“I recognize myself. It’s difficult not to. Aside from the clothes, it’s exactly how I appear right now. I also recognize you and Xiao, but the other people in the pictures aren’t familiar.” 

Zhongli's expression remains neutral, as if he anticipated your answer. ''It's no surprise that you recognize yourself. Every single one of these tapestries depicts significant events throughout the history of Liyue, in which you played a major part.''

You hesitate, “In a way, they feel familiar, but I’m unable to remember what happened or who the other people are. All I know for certain is that these events happened, even if it’s merely a feeling.’’

“In that case, Would you like to sit down?” Zhongli places a hand on the small of your back. “If you have time I’ll be able to tell the stories behind each tapestry.” 

You reply, “I would like to, but I can’t stay here. Not while I know that Lumine and Paimon are both looking for me. I hope nothing bad happened after I left.” You look at Xiao. “I am confused though.”

Xiao hesitantly speaks out, “Your Grace?”

You continue; “You said it was the Fatui who were following us? Does that mean that the woman— La Signora —was lying?”

Zhongli lets out a deep chuckle. “I apologize, your Grace. It appears the situation might’ve grown a bit confusing as a result of my actions.”  

You look up at him, waiting for him to explain.

“In the past, I was approached by La Signora to make a deal with the Tsaritsa. My final contract. However given the unexpected change in our situation, the contract was deemed void. Upon further instructions from the Tsaritsa, La Signora was ordered to cease operation within Liyue and return to Snezhnaya with the other Harbinger who is also staying in Liyue.” 

Zhongli glances over to Xiao as he speaks, “I assume it was the Eleventh who acted independently and continued to follow the traveller despite his new orders?”

The yaksha nods, confirming Zhongli’s words. 

“But isn’t that a dangerous situation for Lumine and Paimon?” You ask.

“I assume by now that the Harbinger will have put all the given information together and realized why the mission was canceled and he was recalled. Confronting the traveller was the final push he needed to realize the truth.”

ㅤ

You lift an eyebrow, unsure why he held you in suspense. “The truth being…?”

ㅤ

“A bigger purpose, you, the Creator. ’’

If you liked this chapter and think I deserve a comment, please leave one behind! I appreciate it a lot and it'll make me more motivated to write in the future ♡

© intothegenshinworld. Do not copy, repost, translate or take heavy inspiration from my content. Thanks for reading.

[dunmeshichilchuck]

For That One Guy On Tumblr part 8

Chilchuck x !fem !halffoot reader

:) I think some of you guys are gonna like this one.

You'd been afraid working with Chilchuck would be difficult, if not impossible, but you soon settled into an easy rhythm with him. With the both of you working together, you could cover more ground. Soon you worked out an almost code to signal to each other, quiet warnings and quick clicks of the tongue. 

The traps were sporadic and sometimes difficult to find and prepare for. Sometimes they were triggered by movement, sometimes by pressure. You weren't sure if you would have been able to get through them all alone. 

The labyrinth changed around you as you moved, doors clicking into place or disappearing. Soon you'd been unwillingly shunted off what you'd thought was the main corridor into who knows where. 

Eventually you came to a dead end. Chilchuck huffed in exasperation. "Damnit I'll have to either find some way through this or we'll need to backtrack, which would lose us a lot of time."

"Well if it's going to be a minute until we can move on we might as well stop for a meal now." Senshi said cheerfully. 

He stopped and made a move to unpack. You held up a hand. "hold on! Let me check this area for traps." 

You quickly combed the area. Surprisingly, it was completely clean for about ten feet away from the dead end. Definitely enough to set up a quick camp site. 

Once finished, Senshi began happily unpacking and then slicing up the walking mushroom. You joined Chilchuck in poking around the walls for hidden passageways. 

"There's no traps right around here. Not for another ten feet back" You said. 

"Yup, that's why I'm thinking it's not actually a dead end. Something's gotta move"

You nodded, and continued combing over the wall, poking and prodding at the bricks. 

"That was a really dumb thing you did back there."

You glanced up, affronted. Did you somehow miss a trap? "What? What did I do?"

"You know what I mean!" Chilchuck quietly hissed. "Tackling Izutzumi! There was a solid chance that wouldn't have worked and you haven't built up nearly enough body mass for resurrection to work again! We could have resurrected Izutzumi, I don't know if we could have resurrected you. It's not our job to put ourselves in danger unnecessarily! It's not brave, it's just stupid." 

You bristled and hissed back. "It wasn't like I planned that! I saw someone in danger and reacted. If I'd stopped to make a thought out plan Izutzumi would have died, and I don't know if you noticed but she's not exactly over abundant in body mass herself."

"Yes but she has more than you do! We *have* to keep expectations consistent across all halffoot workers, that's how this works and how the union continues to function. Yeah maybe you're okay with putting your life at risk for a stupid fucking reason but no halffoot should be forced into that!" 

"I'm not part of the union." You shot back. Out of the corner of your eye you saw Izutzumi watching you with a bored expression. Ah. Cat ears.

You switched seamlessly into your native tongue, your voice rising a bit from anger. "When I went into the dungeon there were no regulations and you had to do whatever it took to prove you deserved to be here! Yeah we're both halffoots, but you're a man and you're tall for a halffoot, do you have any idea what it's like to be a tiny halffoot *woman* trying to get people to take her seriously? I learned how to fight and how to do stuff like that out of *necessity* because otherwise I would have been dropped by the wayside! And I don't have a contract with this party, and it might be nice to have another trap guy but they don't actually *need* me, and I'm telling you right now I will NOT be left behind and I WILL do WHATEVER it takes to be a part of this party. I don't give a shit about your fucking union. Let me take my own risks and stop treating me like a goddamn child, I have enough of that from the other races." 

You were half yelling by the end of that and your face was flushed and hot.  How dare he try and sit there and talk you through how halffoots were exploited like you hadn't gone through it too? Preaching on his fucking high horse. 

Chilchuck scowled, but he looked just slightly taken aback. He'd glanced at Izutzumi when you did and probably had picked up what you had, because he answered in the same language. "You don't have... Fuck you're right. I can probably negotiate one for you, you really don't have to do stuff like that just to be in this party. Why does it even matter to you so much? You don't need to stay here, you don't need to be doing this, we can just send you back. Marcilles all shy about it but they can learn the home spell from their book I bet. She picks stuff up real fast." 

You grit your teeth and pointed an accusatory finger at him. "Tell me. ONE. personal fact. About yourself." 

He blinked, mouth hanging open before he snapped it shut. "What?" 

"I've heard Marcille referencing her school, Laois talks about his sister and a bit about his village, Senshi won't shut up about the stuff he's into, and Izutzumi is Izutzumi, but YOU don't share SHIT. so if you want ME to start sharing you better fucking open up too buddy."

"I- that's not- what- I keep my personal and professional life very separate!"

You grinned. "Then don't expect me to be any different." 

Chilchuck opened his mouth to retort, before shutting it again. Then he shrugged. "Yeah that's fair, keep your reasons to yourself, I'll negotiate you a contract anyway, just forms sake." 

You put your hand down, the wind a bit let out of your sails. You hadn't expected him to back down so easy and you felt oddly...disappointed. it'd been a bit since you'd had a really good knock down drag out argument. 

"Food is ready!" Senshi said "Come and eat while it's hot!" 

Taglist, ask to tag:

@hopefully-not

@night-shadowblood-writes2

@thoughtfulbelieverstrawberry

@dunmeshimeshi

@leguink 

@gh0st-spider

@reh-llik

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@qardasngan

@mshope16

@drowsydoggy

@anaxnee

[locke-writing]

Clarke Boetticher - A Character Study

Let's start with the Tumblr Special: how would Clarke react to meeting you?

Let's consider a scenario in which Clarke does not immediately attempt to get far away from you. He might appear guarded, aloof, or even hostile right off the bat. He may be reserved, speak cautiously, or keep conversations brief to avoid revealing too much about himself or his involvement with the cult. He could suddenly become agitated or withdrawn and not want to be around you. Small gestures of kindness and clarity are something only seen after trust has been built. He's rather enigmatic and introverted. Quiet, but in a calculated way.

The moment you know too much, he'll slit your throat, so try not to pry.

And I know there's the age-old question of, "is he romanceable/can I ship him with my character/myself, etc?"

The answer is circumstantial. This isn't a man with any kind of social skills nor has he known love. He tried that fiasco with Natalie and it ended with him hysterically laughing at her maimed corpse.

If, theoretically, you could get past his skittish eraticisms, constant disappearances, disloyalty and him awkwardly brushing off your affection... perhaps. He will choose the cult over you every time. This is a situationship mixed with sporadic one night stands at best.

Chances are, though, he would want nothing to do you with. You better be damn special, and even special might not get you very far with Clarke.

As Clarke's creator, I genuinely do not care what fanfiction you write with Clarke in it, but I beg you to try and stick to my narrative. He's like this for a reason. Also it would make me happy.

Will he get along with my OC?

Clarke likes normal people. The more normal, the better. He's so tired of seeing monsters every day... so that's up to you. Is your OC a creepypasta or a survivor? He'll go for the survivor in terms of a budding acquaintance (as long as they don't end up with a mark on their back from the Web.) It doesn't matter if killing your character will absolutely crush him, Clarke can't say no to the cult.

Where's Masky and Hoodie? Are they friends with Clarke like in the classic creepypasta?

Copyright means we can't use them so we had to write them out.

This lovely trio from the classics is not really affiliated with each other in Blessed Be The Wicked. As stated in a previous post, Brian is a human hellbent on revenge against the cult after Slenderman took his friends' lives away in the events of Marble Hornets, and he is currently hiding among them as a "proxy." He walks, talks and makes himself look like them, and they haven't noticed quite yet, but Brian is on borrowed time...

Tim, however... well, he ended up getting a little too messy and violent than the cult would've liked, so they fed him to Calibri.

Clarke doesn't really know who Brian is, and Tim is dead. RIP.

What about his Tourettes? Has anything changed with how that is written?

His Tourettes overlaps heavily with his OCD. Clarke's tics are more word-based and compulsory actions than twitching. E.g., checking the locks repeatedly, flipping light switches, echolalia, or repeating a word/phrase during speech. He struggles with his brain hanging on words and sounds during a conversation, which can quickly trigger his anger and frustration.

One might catch Clarke arranging his belongings in a certain pattern, counting his steps as he walks, or adjusting things to make sure they line up/are straight. Clarke's inability to stay clean most times severely bothers him.

Here's some other little bits of info:

Smells like dirt, sweat and metal... sort of like ozone. He showers whenever he can afford to spend extra time in a victim's house after he's finished the job; but it's mostly rinsing off briefly in an icy creek.

The guy will absolutely demolish a cheeseburger and shitty diner coffee. After eating what he could hunt for so long (which was very little,) he's pretty strung out on hunger.

Clarke was inducted into the cult at seventeen and is now twenty-six, meaning he has been a "proxy" for about nine years.

Clarke was written to this song.

Be prepared to bring your Rad-X because this man is a walking elephant's foot. Radiation poisoning (or slender sickness) is in his wake after spending so much time around the Spawn of the Web.

He's king of the Compartmentalized Emotions.

You might catch him doing dangerous shit because he doesn't know pain, and his dissociative coping response can lead him to believe what he is doing isn't real.

(If he believes it's real, he'll hate himself, and he can't do that yet, now can he?)

Has the occasional fit of Cotard's Delusion.

Clarke is a complete stoner and pays the monthly visit to Jingles for the good stuff.

He doesn't flinch. Ever.

Does not own a cell phone and is really bad with technology. Nine years in the woods will isolate a man from how fast tech has progressed.

[abiiors]

𝚠𝚑𝚎𝚗 𝚒 𝚔𝚗𝚘𝚌𝚔 𝚊𝚝 𝚊 𝚑𝚞𝚗𝚍𝚛𝚎𝚍 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚝𝚠𝚘 — 𝚌𝚑𝚊𝚙𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝚒𝚟

✧ — 𝚖𝚊𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚝

✮ a/n: this is surprisingly fluffy. sorry about inserting another zelda game into a fic, it will happen again. majora’s mask my actual beloved <33

✮ cw: nothing i can think of for this one, it's pretty clean apart from a bit of dirty talk at the end

✮ wc: 2.8k

like clockwork matty’s gone when jules wakes up. 

she doesn’t mind it all that much. at least that’s what she tells herself. it’s not like he’s her boyfriend, it’s not like he’s obligated to stay and give her morning cuddles or make her breakfast in bed. (not like max had ever done any of those things either)

but jules shrugs it off and gets dressed. she has a whole day ahead of her and work too.,she can’t just dwell on silly little things like these. 

her day goes without a hitch. to her utter relief, carly doesn’t ask anything about any…noises she might have heard the night before. then again she’s busy on the phone arguing with someone when jules enters the living room. 

“packers and movers,” she mouths, crease between her brow, and jules is suddenly reminded that in two weeks time, she’ll be alone here. carly will be gone. 

she feels a little tinge of sadness, but she’s happy for her friend. she knows how much this means to carly. 

throughout her entire shift at the local hmv, she goes through a throng of emotions—nervousness over living alone, excitement over having the house to herself, sadness over not having her friend right there. the entire time she does things on autopilot, dividing her time between thinking about her situationship with matty, and thinking about living alone for a change. 

when jules returns from her shift, carly is on the phone again, loudly complaining by the sounds of it. 

“babe, they’re trying to rob me blind!” is all she catches from carly before jules makes her way to her bedroom, turning on her 3ds and loading up her second run of majora’s mask. 

before jules relaxes and buries herself under the blankets, she sends matty a text. 

jules: u up? matty: not in london for the rest of the week :( 

she frowns. not that she should know about his whereabouts at all times like a girlfriend would, but she would have thought he’d say something. then again, perhaps it’s best he keeps her at arms length—she’d do well to learn that too, not let him in so quick despite all his flirting and sweet talk. 

dawn of the second day, 48 hours remain flashes on her screen. jules cracks her knuckles and casts matty out of her thoughts.

the rest of the week she spends much in the same way, stuck in the same routine—she has work and then some other things to do, then she hangs out with carly, lets her vent about how expensive moving is. 

“i’ll help you,” jules declares, “fuck those packers and movers, we can pack up your stuff.”

“it’s so much though!” carly whines, dramatically throwing her head onto jules’ lap. jules strokes her hair. it’s poofy and unruly, but one by one she smoothes the clumps of curls with her fingers. 

“why don’t you ask adam for help?”

carly hums noncommittally. “i think i will, maybe rope his friends in too.”

for a bit they’re both quiet, thinking about two very different things jules imagines. 

“flowers came for you today,” carly mumbles, head still on jules’ lap. jules wrinkles her nose. 

“from max?”

“mm, chrysanthemums, i think. i put them in your room.”

chrysanthemums… that’s certainly new. maybe max thought buying her newer, better flowers instead of an actual apology would help. 

it still surprises her that he keeps sending flowers. sporadic as it is, even after six months of radio silence from her side, after six months of blocking him completely and moving on even if it’s partial. 

“i guess one more bouquet for the storage closet,” she shrugs and carly frowns at her. 

“you’ve been keeping them?”

“leaving them to rot, more like…”

“jules,” carly sits up, looking at her with more than a little skepticism, “you’re not… you’re not holding on are you? because trust me, that boy—”

“i’m not.” jules declares, her voice firm. and she means it too. it pains her that such a big part of her life is over, but she doesn’t miss max as much as she thought she would. and sure she thinks about him occasionally—a voice at the back of her head telling her to do things a certain way—but that doesn’t mean she’s holding on. 

“i just haven’t gotten round to disposing of them yet.”

“sure,” carly mumbles. “but the more you keep it jules the more the rot is going to spread. that closet’s gonna smell horrid.”

“i know, i—” she holds onto carly’s hand, giving it a firm squeeze, “i’m gonna clean it okay? soon.”

and they leave it at that. jules promises she will help with the packing. she even manages to feel absolutely nothing when she chucks the flowers in the closet. there’s a whiff of decay though, not strong enough to make her eyes water, but definitely strong enough that she can’t keep doing this for much longer. besides, she’s already gotten rid of all the sunflowers immediately, she can do the same with the others.

it's sunday, she deserves to relax first. 

jules starfishes on her bed, holding the nintendo right in front of her to load up the game. her fingers move deftly on the buttons, going through the motions almost on autopilot until her eyes close of their own accord. until sleep weighs heavy on her limbs. 

she doesn’t know when she sets the 3ds aside and dozes off.

jules wakes up to sounds coming from outside her room—male voices, and then carly—going back and forth about something. she frowns and gets up, smoothing the wrinkles of her t-shirt and opens her door. 

it creaks louder than it ever has, and just like that, she’s there in the corridor, with five pairs of eyes staring right at her. 

carly, adam, ross, george and matty. 

matty. 

staring at her with a strange look in his eyes, like he’s seeing her for the first time. subconsciously, she pats her hair down, realising it’s still a little mussed from sleep and pulls the long sleeves of her t-shirt over her hands. a nervous habit. 

“hi…” she raises her hand nervously. carly breaks the silence first. 

“oh my god, sorry! i was going to tell you they were coming over to help me move some stuff,” she smiles a little guiltily, “did we wake you up?”

jules waves her off, stifling a tiny yawn. matty’s still staring at her, still unable to look away. does she have something on her face? something stuck in her hair? 

“do you remember them?” carly asks, about to reintroduce. and sure, it’s fair because she is seeing adam, ross and george after a good few months. matty though… 

she sneaks another glance at him, only for him to quickly look away and stare at his feet. from the corner of her eye she sees george frowning at him. 

jules nods, politely repeating her hellos. “do you need help?”

when carly nods, jules joins them, passing by matty to follow her into her room. he looks up, properly staring at her for the first time and smiles. she notices the little crinkles by his eyes, notices how his hair has grown a little more in the week she hasn’t seen him. it’s curled more than before, and jules has the most peculiar urge to reach out and touch it. to tug on it just to hear him hiss. 

she’ll have to do that the next time he’s in her bed. 

“hi jules,” he whispers in the same sing-song voice he always does, so close behind her that his breath practically tickles the nape of her neck. 

she almost grins, biting her lip. “hi matty.”

his hand grazes her elbow, almost like he’s going to pull her into his chest and start fucking her here in the middle of the corridor, in broad daylight while their friends are a few feet away. jules shakes the thoughts away, schooling her face into a bright, friendly smile once she enters carly’s room.

“alright!” carly stands with a determined look on her face, hands on her hips and her face twisted into a frown of concentration. she looks so endearing, jules almost coos at her. 

“ross and george, i need you to help me with furniture.”

a little group mumble of ‘yes, ma’am’ follows which she acknowledges with a sarcastic smile. 

“adam and i will pack my clothes,” she looks at him, this time with a real, tiny smile. then she stares at jules, and at matty who’s standing right next to her. 

“matty and jules, need you to pack my things in the kitchen. she will know what’s mine.”

they both stare at each other and then back at carly, nodding once. jules wonders if everyone in the room can tell they’ve been fucking each other. is it obvious on their faces? does she have it written on her forehead or something? does matty?

but even as she lets momentary paranoia consume her thoughts, she knows she’s overthinking. everyone else is busy doing their assigned tasks, even matty is half-way out of the room. 

there’s also that weird little nervous flutter that she feels. she’s only spent time with him to have sex. never… never otherwise.

“did you have a good week?” she asks, her voice an almost practised level of polite. matty falters mid-step. 

“yes…?”

“mmm, good.” 

and then she clams up again, unsure what else to say. 

“is—”

“you—”

they both speak at the same time, stopping and staring at each other wide-eyed. jules clears her throat. “you go first.”

“you alright?” he cocks his head in confusion. “you’re being so weird.”

oh god he can tell she’s overthinking and over-analysing, can’t he!?

“you’re being weird!” she retorts. real fucking clever, jules! matty, predictably, frowns some more, and takes a step towards her. 

she almost thinks he’s going to kiss her then, a casual little kiss that absolutely leads to nothing sexual. but that would be breaking a major rule. besides, all he does is brush a little strand of hair away from her forehead and tucks it behind her ear. 

the entire thing takes about half a second. and yet to jules it feels like the longest time ever that she stands here with sunlight streaming in the kitchen and matty about six inches away from her. 

“alright, i won’t push,” he holds his hands up by his side, like he’s surrendering. 

and as much as it bothers her that she doesn’t know what to talk to him about when they’re not having sex, for that, she is still grateful.

“i can do this!” matty declares with renewed determination.

the two giant cardboard boxes that carly assigned to them have been sitting on the kitchen floor for nearly ten minutes now. jules and matty stare at them as if they’re mentally preparing themselves for the battle—no, the war—they’re about to face. 

if it were possible, jules is sure they’d both have eye of the tiger playing in their heads in perfect sync.

“we can do this!” he jumps in place twice to pump himself up, slaps his chest like some prized fighter about to enter the cage. jules snorts. 

“can we?” she asks, scepticism clear in her voice and winces when matty narrows his eyes at her. 

“jules, no…” he sighs, “where’s your can-do attitude?!”

and those really are famous last words. he is especially determined because he was the one to declare—quite proudly, if she remembers correctly—that they will not “cross the box budget” (whatever that means). and now here they stand, figuring out ways to tetris everything into the two boxes that are frankly…not big enough…

jules bites her lip, stifles a smile. 

“let’s do this then. us against the…oh, what is it? a game of kitchen tetris? yeah, us against…that.”

while matty stands there, hands on his hips and glaring at the boxes, jules takes the time to look at him. his hair is just as unruly as always, curls sticking in all sides and still so perfect. he’s once again in a pair of ripped black skinny jeans and a band t-shirt (fugazi)—an utterly mouth-watering combination, if she’s being honest.  

but he’s determined to win this imaginary fight against the boxes and so she picks up a set of plates and stares at one of the boxes in concentration too. 

matty hovers behind her, mirroring her position while his chin rests practically on top of her head and mumbling something to himself.

“it’s not the boss of us,” he whispers; eyes crazy and hair even crazier as they stick in all directions. he does look like a bit of a mad scientist. it’s an almost impossible task to not laugh out loud when he scratches his chin. jules keeps her snort to herself.

“we should start,” she turns to him, stealing a little look at him again, allowing herself the indulgence of lingering on his face. he really does look so domestic in the soft light of the kitchen. 

domestic… jules shakes her head and clears the thought away just as fast as it came. she has no business thinking about domestic and matty in the same sentence.

“we should,” he agrees.

“so i think,” she sets the plates down in one of the boxes, “we should put big things in one box and the smaller ones in the other…”

“no but then one of the boxes would be more crammed.”

“matty!” she crosses her arms in front of her chest, “there aren’t a lot of big things. there are a lot of small things!”

“jules!” he mimics her position, swooping down so their noses are almost touching, “we’ll sort the bigger things out first and then cram the smaller things into corners.”

she throws her hands up, exasperated. “that might break things!”

“we have bubble wrap!”

“matthew,” she cuts him off, a little surprised she’s used his full name, but she’s too deep into this now, almost on the tip of her toes to glare a bit better at him, “i will whack you with this pan. listen to me!”

that seems to break his resolve. in a split second, matty’s mouth stretches into a grin and he giggles, he laughs like an imp, backing away just a smidge. “you’re so cute when you threaten.”

jules blinks, completely speechless, and matty grabs her jaw, tracing his thumb over her bottom lip, dragging it down. “so hot too… we’ll have to try that next time, i think.”

it really should bother her more how quickly he disarms her. because in one second jules goes from wanting to whack him in the head to wanting to be absolutely railed on the kitchen counter. her cheeks heat up, so does the rest of her body. 

“you’d like that?” she asks, voice quivering, “for me to be a little more commanding?”

“jules…” his voice is equally as breathy, fanning her face while he backs her into the kitchen counter. the marble digs into the small of her back, matty’s chest presses into hers. jules exhales, feeling the familiar heat coiling in her stomach. 

“i’ve thought about you,” he swallows roughly, “thought about fucking you every day of this miserable week, i–” matty chokes. 

jules wishes she could kiss the shit out of him right there. but that would be breaking a rule. as much as she wants it, they can’t go at it right here like horny rabbits while everyone else is right in the next room. 

“thought about how you taste, jules,” matty continues, voice so low it’s almost a growl. her skin feels like it’s on fire. 

“i—” she almost whimpers, trying to desperately tell him what she wants. 

a split second passes and matty flinches, stepping back completely. 

“everything alright?” it takes her a moment that it’s not matty she’s hearing, it’s george, staring at them with confusion written all over his face. jules tries to discreetly clear her throat. 

“yeah, mate, just figuring things out,” matty waves him off. george stares at him with a strange smile on his face. 

“we could hear you bickering all the way in carly’s room.”

jules still feels like she can’t speak without giving herself away. so she just laughs, the sound fake and unnaturally high. 

“we’re good,” matty nods at him. “we’re good, right jules?”

“hmm? yes.” she cringes at the sound of her voice, smiling blankly at george and hoping he believes her. 

“sure,” he shrugs and leaves. jules tries to control her thudding heart and swallow through her dry mouth. 

“let’s pack this, shall we?” matty winks at her like nothing’s just happened, like he’s all calm and composed even though she can see the evidence of it quite clearly. jules doesn’t push it though. she just busies herself into the packing. 

the rest, she can figure that out later.

[wordstome]

What are Price's daughters like? What are their names? Are they sweet or pranksters or crafty like their father?

Also, which of the 141 + KorTac dads are on the PTA?

OMG how did you know I wanted to write more about Price??? I love you Spec <333

Price's daughters are named, from oldest to youngest, Alice, Brianna, and Clara! Alice is a classic cool older sister, undeniably her dad's right-hand woman. When she and Brianna were younger, she would mess with her younger sister all the time, but since Clara the baby came around, she decided to be a "grownup" (which is of course, adorable). When they're a bit older, I can see them taking on the same dynamic as (bear with me, this is a deep cut) Flavia de Luce and her sisters from the Flavia de Luce books by Alan Bradley. Alice and Brianna band together to mess with Clara, but I can see Clara growing up to be very smart and quick-witted, probably taking after Price.

As for the PTA:

Price: is definitely on the PTA. He runs it like the military: no room for middle aged mom drama or passive aggressiveness in his PTA!

Ghost: absolutely not. He's not touching that stuff with a ten foot pole. As long as nobody's making things difficult for Caden, he's good, thanks.

Soap: he's on the PTA, but he's not getting shit done. He'll do whatever Price asks of him, but he's just there to shoot the shit and flirt with moms. Rascal.

Gaz: He might drop in once in a while and help out at events, but he's a busy busy man and can't make those meetings, unfortunately.

König: No, much like Ghost he isn't interested in suburban school district politics.

Horangi: Horangi, similarly to Soap, is on the PTA, but his presence is sporadic and he's solely there to pick up gossip and instigate. Wait a second, why is he allowed in here? His daughter's not even in school anymore!

Keegan: didn't even know there was a PTA

[harrieatthemet]

Vulnerable

in which Harry’s sensitive and you’re completely undressed. 

He’d prefer if you stayed. 

It’s his ideal perception of comfort; the warmth oozing from the usually unoccupied side of his bed, a faded essence of vanilla perfume tied in with a bit of rose oil shampoo, the amenity of another body lethargically intertwined with his. 

Bouncing back and forth between one place to another, one city to the next; it’s inconsistent. And for a while, inconsistency worked. He had nestled himself comfortably into the odd routine of inconsistency. That’s what the bulk of his foundation in larger areas of life was built off of, and you were no exception. 

“Casual,” and he used the word exactly months ago, “let’s keep it casual.”

He knows what happens when he puts his hand to the flame; he gets burned. He’s learned that lesson the hard way once. And again after that, and once or twice more after that. Casual meant there wasn’t any real need for consistency. Keeping a relationship with you as casual as possible seemed like the best fit; one that made sense. 

At least, back then it did. All that coming and going, late night text messages, sporadic sleepovers after over indulging on wine and really shitty romantic comedies, it became consistent. 2 minute phone calls every now and then turned into one, sometimes two hours at least once a day. He’s caught himself checking his phone so that he doesn’t miss a text. He’s not used to consistent. This, however, is the type of consistency he’s becoming quite fond of. 

“5 more minutes,” he’s barely gotten his eyes open but his hands are awake, pulling you a little closer to him, “s’all we need, yeah? Just 5.. maybe 10.” 

There’s a content flutter purring in his chest when you hum in response, your body readjusting as he slinks an arm over your waist. He’s not ready to draw the blinds yet. There’s a straggling strip of outside light that's fighting it’s way through the gap in the drapes. It’s got to be well into the afternoon by now, but he doesn’t wanna check his phone to confirm. Instead he just pulls you closer; he’d rather stay here, like this, instead. 

“Mm,” the scruff from his chin brushes up against the back of your neck when you hum, “I wish I could.” 

“Don’t wish,” he giggles, “just do.”

He frowns when he feels you peel your body away, a small gust of cool air hitting his bare stomach when you tussle the sheets off and sit up. And he watches forlornly from his spot; admiring the way he his shirt hangs on you. 

“I can’t,” you’re whine is playful as you snatch your pants up from the floor, “I’ve got a thing.”

“A thing?”

“Mhm,” you assure, “a date thing.” 

It’s like a punch to the gut. The words coming out of your mouth put a bad taste in his. He doesn’t even wanna talk about it beyond this point. Ignorance really is bliss, but the curiosity will eat away at him if he doesn’t try to dig a little deeper. 

“Been seein’ him long?” He’s glad your back is to him because you can’t see the worry in his face. 

“Oh yeah,” that’s one more punch to the gut; he was hoping you’d say no, “we’re getting married on our date tonight.” 

“What??”

“Harry,” your laugh is muffled as you tug your shirt over your head, “m’fucking with you.” 

His shoulders drop a bit before he sits up in the bed. Watching you get dressed has always been one of those things he enjoyed; teasing you about outfit choices, making remarks about how he should take it all off again. 90% of the time he actually does end up taking everything off again. But this time just fucking sucks. You’re not getting dressed to go back to your place; you’re getting dressed to go back to someone else’s place. At least, that’s where his mind is taking him. 

You’ve still got him all over you; a little bit surely still lingering inside of you. This no-named competitor might get to touch you like he did just minutes ago. He wonders if he knows all your best spots, whisper in your ear, hold you while you sleep. Is he gonna kiss you the way you like, run fingers down your spine until you hum in content. Can this guy please you like he can? Does he know that the the little indent above your right knee is from when you fell off your bike as a kid? Does he know you sleep with two pillows and not one? You can’t sleep with one pillow; Harry always keeps an extra one freshly fluffed for you when you spend the night. Which, evidently enough, has become more frequent than not. 

“So deep in thought, eh?” You tease, “What’s going on up there?” 

He smirks briefly when you extend your pointer finger towards his head, swirling it around as though you’re mimicking his jumbled thoughts. He’s got no right to pry. After all, the groundwork of the terms regarding the dynamic between the two of you were his idea. God is he regretting that now. The idea of another man knowing you at all makes his stomach hurt, let alone knowing you the way he does. 

“Oh m’not,” he shrugs, idle hands twirling the loose sheet on his bed, “s’nothing.” 

“Going once.. going twice.. give me something, Har.” 

With your hands on your hips; expression playful, eyebrow cocked and breath baited in anticipation, he’s realizing that now might be better than ever to speak up. The answer to every unasked question is no, after all. 

His mind is racing with the worst of thoughts. He doesn’t want you to leave at all. Especially if you leave now to meet with the embrace of any other man except him. It’s not a possessive thing. Part of what makes him so feral and drawn to you is how open and genuine you are with the everyone you know. 

“This guy,” he trails, “I mean- like is this a date?”

“You writing a book or something?” You chuckle. 

“No.” 

He knows that was a joke. It wasn’t his intention to answer so seriously and he wishes so badly he could take that knee jerk reaction back. The look on your face falls and so does his heart; right into his fucking stomach. The energy of the once playful banter is ripped right out from beneath the both of you and now it’s just uncomfortable. 

“Yeah..” Your tone wanders as you look for your socks, “3rd one, I’m pretty sure. Why?”

There’s about an infinite amount of ways he could match that question. One of them being just high pitched screaming from frustration. Not even with any words, just endless agonizing groaning on a loop. Christ, the thought of it all just makes him want to melt into the mattress and become nothing. In theory he should’ve just kept his mouth shut and suffered in silence while he waited for the next time you texted or called. But he’s dug himself so deep playing 50 questions with you that there’s no point in retreating. He’s doubling down now; all or nothing. 

“Know him well?” He spits out. 

“Well enough.. still getting to know him a bit.” 

“S’good,” he feels it coming, the word vomit and he just can’t stop it from pooling on his tongue, “knows you like I know you?” 

If he was religious he’d start praying to God, any one of them, that you answer with a firm no. How could anyone know you like Harry knows you? He’s convinced that it isn’t possible. This morning, when he was wrapped up with you in a fresh set of linens sheets, he’d be so sure that nobody else had intimate access to you like he does; sexually and emotionally. Right now though, he’s starting to do something he seldom does; second guess himself. Maybe he was naive to be so sure before. 

“Not gonna put all my cards on the table just yet,” oh how badly he feels like dying when you talk all confused like that at him, “but yeah. I mean, I guess.” 

You think of how silly that question is. Why would he ask that? Everyone you know gets the same version of you; honest, open, and real easy going. You’re an open book and your relationships are all reflective of that. You are who you are, proudly and comfortably. So yes, of course he does. 

And all he’s thinking is how desperately he wants to rewind to 15 minutes ago when he wasn't the only naked person in the room. He just wants you to get back in bed; stay with him a little bit until he feels like the only one again. Turmoil and anger coincide with one another as it bubbles in his stomach, metastasizing before it becomes so unavoidable that he can feel it in the pit of his throat.

“Hm,” the sarcasm and bitterness in his tone is so goddamn thick, “lucky him than, yeah? Have fun, m’s real happy fo’ you.”

“Ok...” and he can tell by your voice that you’re offended, “I’d say thank you but that felt more like an insult.” 

Your jeans still aren’t buttoned and now that you’ve slid your shirt back on, he notices that your arms are folded over your chest as well. He doesn’t like the look on your face. It’s like you’re accusing him of something. And he really doesn’t like that the shirt you slept in, his shirt, is in a ball at the foot of his bed. 

“Can take it however y’want,” he answers flatly, “not sure how that’s my problem.” 

“Well what is your fucking problem?” 

You’ve never taken that tone with him before. In fact, he doesn’t think he’s ever seen you this cross before in general. He knows for sure you’ve never been this cross with him. It’s frustrating that you’re lagging in an attempt to catch up to the very obvious point he’s trying to make. The only easier route to take would be to flat out tell you how he’s completely hooked on you. He doesn’t want to do that though, not right now. 

What’s his problem? Are you genuinely that dense? Oblivious? His problem is you and how, against all odds, have become a crucial influence on whether or not he’s having a good day. His problem is if he doesn’t hear from you after a while, he gets grumpy. He hates waking up and rolling over to the left side of his bed made up and untouched. That’s where he wants you to be sleeping. All the time. 

His problem is you’re leaving to be with someone that isn't him.

“He knows you like I do?” he reiterates, “Fat fuckin chance.” 

“Harry you of all people know that I’m-”

“Shy?” he’s talking over you now because he’s completely lost all motor control between his mouth and his brain, “I know y’shy. Know that y’do tha’ little thing with y’lip, when you’re reading or real focused on something. Y’hum in the shower and, I never said this but it’s bloody fucking annoying sometimes ‘cos it’s off key. S’off key ‘n I almost like it.” 

You blinked; face flat and arms fallen to the side. All you could do was blink. And he wants to stop. God, he wants to stop talking so bad but this is your fault. You got him started so he has to keep going. 

“I know y’favorite pair of socks- those hideous fuzzy green ones with th’hole in ‘em.” 

He’s standing upright, now. How he got here, two feet planted on the ground with less distance between the two of you than two minutes ago; he’s not sure. There’s no specific expression on your face for him to pinpoint, so he considers edging himself a little closer towards where you’re standing. Until he’s right in front you, about to wave his white flag when he manages to break your blank stare and lock eyes

“Knows how y’like to be touched?” he’s brought his voice down a few octaves now, his index finger grazing over the undone button of your jeans, “knows.. how to get y’off? Like I do?” 

His eyelids are low, pupils blown as he peers down at you. A finger of his tucks away a stray piece of your hair before it embarks on a mindless journey; grazing your jaw before before he places it strategically under your chin. Then he lifts it. He’s giving you no choice but to look at him when he asks you. 

“Do y’wanna know him,” he sighs, “th’same way y’know me?”

[icallhimjoey]

short bit of writing to help me process a deeply personal current situation - slight chance more of these will pop up in the upcoming few days as i move through all of what needs moving through Wordcount: 1.2K

---

Suddenly Gone

“Hey, it’s me, let me in,”

It sets you off immediately, face scrunching up and everything tensing from your stomach up until it builds too much and sobs slip out. You hold the buzzer down and see in the intercom how Joe needs to turn to push the door open with his shoulder. He’s carrying bags of shopping and, fucking hell, you’d just stopped crying and calmed down enough to maybe go for a big food shop yourself.

It’s been tears and tears and tears. In stupid places. Normal places too.

Just, all over, really.

It's waking up and crying over breakfast because you forgot for the first twenty minutes of the day. It’s yoghurt slowly going salty because you suddenly remembered.

It’s wet cheeks after seeing initials hidden on a number plate when parking outside a supermarket.

It’s kindly unaccepted apologies as you try to croak through a bunch of them for not being able to answer the phone with an unhitched voice.

It's dark clouds but somehow also sunbeams that break through sporadically, because isn’t it all so stupid? Seeing something that you know they would find hilarious, and instead of it making you laugh, it does the exact opposite?

It's stupid.

It’s also people offering and offering and offering.

“Let me know if I can do anything!”

“If there’s anything I can do...”

“Call me whenever, all’s fine, just let me know,”

But you don’t even know what needs doing. What you want. What you need. You know, besides distraction. And your fridge filled. But, that’s weird to ask. It’s polite for people to say nice things but what do you actually ask for? What do you say without burdening someone? Do you just text? With words?

“Hey,”

Bags get put down and you quickly find yourself stood in an embrace, arms wrapped with tenderness and strength, pulling you into a safe haven of solace. Encircled in his arms and surrounded in his warmth, a cocoon of security is created. You’re protected. Understood. Shielded from all the absolute shit that’s found you over the past couple of days.

“How was today?” Joe speaks into your hair.

“Long,”

Leaning into the hug more, Joe allows you a brief respite from the heavy weight of grief. It’s difficult to feel vulnerable for such a long time, for so many consecutive hours. Really drains you.

“Did you get everything sorted?”

“Nearly,”

You feel emotions surge once more, but Joe remains steadfast in his hold. Stable anchor in the storm, keeping the whole ship from drifting, from tipping, from sinking.

You stand there for a long time, and when you start to think of the bags on the floor that hold items that might need a fridge or a freezer, you also notice that the tightness in your chest has eased. Breaths have become deeper.

Joe notices the shift, and pulls back, but only to use both hands to cup your face and connect with you beyond arms embracing and bodies being pushed together.

“Funeral’s Monday,”

And fuck off, just saying wild crazy insane outrageous shit like that gets you. Makes you tense your mouth to keep the whole thing from wobbling, but corners get pulled down as far as they can go anyway. Makes you frown hard to somehow try to keep tears from spilling, which obviously, they do anyway.

Joe uses his thumbs to swipe. Kisses just below your eyes. Presses your head into the crease of his neck below his chin to hide you there, away form the world. Lets you burrow there.

The hug lasts a long time, and you try to convince yourself that it’s not too long. That Joe probably is glad that he gets to help by just holding you a couple of minutes. People keep saying they want to help, and that you just need to let them know.

It’s nice that Joe didn’t wait for you to ask for anything.

He’s just there.

Here.

“I brought food,” he says after a little while, and you’re reminded of the bags once more.

“I’m not hungry,”

It’s not a lie, but you know Joe won’t have it as an answer.

“That’s all right, you can just eat without feeling hungry,”

Kisses get pressed to your forehead, and after one last tight squeeze, bags get taken into the kitchen. You want to help, keep hands busy. Focus on a task. For a moment you’re scared Joe’s going to tell you to let him do it, to go sit down, but Joe knows. Distraction is a welcome temporary escape from overwhelming thoughts and emotions.

But it’s all tricky, isn’t it? It's all fickle things.

You don’t notice how deep you’re lost in thought until you get pulled from them by Joe taking the jar of spaghetti sauce from your grip. You’d been staring at it after pulling it from one of the bags.

“Oh, sorry,”

You watch Joe place it where it goes. You’re not even sure if it’s the brand that she liked, but she fucking loved spaghetti.

“Actually,” you stop Joe from closing the cabinet. “Can we do a bolognese tonight?”

Joe smiles, pulls the jar back from where he put it and leaves it out on the counter.

“Of course.”

Before you know it, there’s hot tears stinging the raw skin once again. And it’s so frustrating. Had you been alone, you would’ve called yourself a stupid bitch out loud because who the fuck cries over the prospect of dinner?!

But you’re not alone. Because Joe’s there, even though you hadn’t asked, hadn’t let him know like everyone asked you to in all their kind messages.

And so tears are just... they're just part of you now.

And you manage to not hate yourself for it.

S'okay.

And Joe doesn’t even really mention it which is exactly right.

“And can we do it with chicken instead of beef?”

“Absolutely,”

It’s how she liked it. Something about the texture of ground beef she hated.

“I know it’s weird,” you start, but before you can finish your sentence, Joe places a packet of diced chicken breast onto the counter.

It’s a gesture that shouldn’t get to you as much as it does, and yet...

“You ok?” Joe asks when Joe giving you want you want, the thing you asked for, has the opposite effect it would usually have – more tears instead of less.

“No,” you shake your head, big wet eyes looking into concerned ones.

“But I will be,”

You’re not sure if it’s happy tears, or maybe if you’re just tired and drained, but you know you’re right. Not all right. Not yet. But you will be. Joe’s there, with hugs and kisses and, you will be.

“S’just a lot,” you shrug, and Joe frowns at you, says, “Of course it is,” like he’s almost upset that you even have to say it. Like he doesn’t understand.

He does.

“But I’ll be fine,”

And he knows you’re right. Doesn't question it. Doesn't say shit anyone else would tell you, that you don't have to be, that you are allowed not to be. Accepts it for the truth, and says,

“But you'll be fine.”

And hearing it from him sets it in stone. Makes you smile, even if only for a second. You will be fine.

the end

---

The Taglisted: 

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(taglist currently full, sorry!)

[hopelessdelusional]

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷bad for business

‧₊˚♡pairing: bakugou x singer! reader

‧₊˚♡tw: slight mention of injury in the beginning, but that’s abt it

‧₊˚♡word count: 4K

‧₊˚♡a/n: Literally got a dream after i read this prompt, went insane, and then basically wrote a whole book…so it’s safe to say im obsessed

‧₊˚♡masterlist

inbox is open so hmu!!

╭── ⋅ ⋅ ─ ✩ ─⋅ ⋅ ──╮

Bakugou Katsuki is a hero.

He is a Pro Hero, number 2 to be in fact (damn Deku). He has made a living fighting battles and saving lives, jumping off roofs and flying in the sky. He is a real life super hero, putting his life in danger. Every morning he wakes up has to prepare himself for the things he may see that day. The blood he might shed, and the people he may not be able to save. He has learned to be fearless, never finding himself nervous when jumping into the fight.

And yet, he’s never felt more terrified right now.

He met you three years ago, after quite literally crashing right into the very studio you record your music. He was battling a woman who had the ability to make and control giant vines, and apparently are explosive-proof. Todoroki almost hit him with a blast of his shitty ice, making him turn to his so called “partner” and cuss him out. However, that gave the villain the chance to grab him, and send him flying.

Bakugou soon found himself miles away from the fight, as he had to use his quirk in order not to fall to his death. But as many know, his quirk is sporadic.

That is how he crash landed into your studio.

It hurt like hell sure, but when he opened his eyes and saw you standing over him with nothing but concern in your eyes, he instantly forgot the many injuries he gained. You were breathtaking, and not like anyone he had ever interacted with. You immediately made the terrified people in the studio help him up and you found the nearest first aid kit and fixed him up as best as you could before an ambulance came.

He was dazed, but you were so kind and made small talk. Bakugou had always been one to hate any type of small talk, but he loved every word that left your mouth. You were newly moved to Japan, some sort of opportunity came to you that you couldn’t turn down (Bakugou was severely concussed so a lot of what you said was a blur).

Bakugou does remember Mina and Kaminari mentioning you, playing your music whenever he came to either of their houses. You had such a unique voice, a bit raspy that caught the attention of millions of people. Surprisingly, also caught the attention to Bakugou, as he would play it during the rare nights when he’d be cooking alone in his kitchen. Your story telling was incredible, your lyrics were anything but bland. Making music about the bad and good exes you’ve had, your friends and family, your past, and even wrote songs about random characters your beautiful mind came up with. You always made sure to use all sorts of instruments, and the notes that you compacted into your songs never ceased to amaze Bakugou’s standards.

Now he was here, sitting on a table asking you all sorts of questions about you. Maybe it was the concussion, or maybe it was just your personality but Bakugou began to get addicted to you, never wanting you to stop talking.

“Here.”

You turned away from him, your hand leaving his knee instantly making him already miss the warmth of you as you shuffled through your bag.

He watched you with curiosity (and took the chance to shamelessly check out your ass) before you turned around with a newfound grin on your face. You were holding a pen, and he cocked an eyebrow at you, not understanding the excitement of this pen in your perfect hand. You walked back over to him, your perfume becoming addicting to him, and you gently grabbed his hand. You were making intense eye contact with him, and Bakugou suddenly felt…nervous? You smiled at the blush that rose on the hero’s face, before you clicked the pen and began to write something on his wrist.

Bakugou watched, feeling somewhat like a child, and once you finished and allowed him to look. He was pleasantly surprised to see your number on his arm.

His head instantly shot up, almost not believing this was happening.

“If I text this and it’s a scam, I’m gonna hunt you down.”

His gruff voice didn’t match the face he was making at you, and you threw your head back and laughed.

Once you caught your breath, you smiled at him, making him blush even more (he didn’t even know that was possible!).

“As fun as that would be, I promise that is in fact my home number. I would never trick my favorite pro hero like that.”

Out of the corner of his eye he saw two paramedics walking through the door, ready to help him out of there. However, he chose to ignore them and smirk at you instead.

“Favorite eh?”

You giggled, still holding his hand.

“Don’t get too cocky mister, or else I’ll write a mean song about you.”

His grin widened, using his other hand to lead your hand to his lips. He gently kissed it, hating how chapped his lips were, but the blush that quickly appeared on your cute cheeks made it worth it.

“I’d rather the song have another meaning.”

The two of you held eye contact, and he soaked up every second of it not ever wanting to forget what color you eyes were.

You smiled at him before you turned to the paramedics that began to replace your presence. They helped him up, and walked him over to the bed that was rolled in by another paramedic. Once he was comfortable (as comfortable as someone with many broken ribs and a concussion could be) he looked back up at you. Bakugou was annoyed to see one of the paramedics talking nervously to you, asking for an autograph. However, the jealously slowly turned into admiration as he watched you beam at the man as you excitedly signed the crinkled piece of paper he had in his pocket.

“My daughter just adores your music, she started learning guitar because of you actually! It’s truly incredible watching her play, just makes me so proud of her.”

Your lip was pouted, as you stood listening to his words. You looked so genuine, so happy that he was telling you this. Bakugou could tell this means the world to you, watching you enthusiastically hugged him. The two of you quickly made your goodbyes, and you immediately turned to look his way. Bakugou would have been embarrassed that he was caught looking at you if you hadn’t beamed at him like that. You jogged over to him, making him chuckle how eager you were to be back in his presence. Bakugou instantly grabbed your empty hand again, not a single ounce of shame for how “down bad” he was acting.

“Talk to you later?”

Your voice couldn’t have been any louder than a whisper, making sure he knew these were words only for him to hear. Bakugou grinned, giving your hand a squeeze.

“Of course.”

Instead of one of your flashing smiles, your whole face softened and a small smile appeared on your face.

“In the meantime then, I’ll definitely be writing a song.”

That’s when Bakugou realized there was no coming back from you. He was officially obsessed, never wanting anything more than your hand in his.

Unfortunately for him, the two of you were rudely interrupted by the dumbass that got him here in the first place (not that Bakugou is complaining). Todoroki loudly coughed, making you jump and him scowl.

“I see you’re in good-“ his heterochromia eyes looked down at Bakugou and your interlocked hands, and then looked back up at Bakugou with a smirk.

“Good hands?”

Yeah, Bakugou definitely got teased for the rest of the day, and soon the rest of the week by all the people half-and-half told. But honestly? Bakugou couldn’t give two shits when had you texting him all day.

Besides, they were just jealous.

Kaminari and Mina especially lost their shit, begging for him to tell them all about you, even asking for your number. Obviously, Bakugou kindly told them to stop asking (he told them to fuck off and mind their fucking business) and soon enough the two of you began dating.

It was so easy being with someone like you. The two of you worked so well together, and you already understood the pressure of paparazzi constantly swarming you like hawks. Crazily enough, the reveal of you guys dating didn’t release until after your one year. Of course there were plenty of news articles and random fans on the internet who speculated it, but you interacted with enough people for your fans to also say you were dating them as well. Besides, the idea of you, an international singer/songwriter dating the number two hero in the world was not something that people could believe easily. But it was the truth, and people everywhere went crazy when you posted a picture of the two of you.

It was the picture of Bakugou picking you up by the waist in his kitchen. You were wearing his shirt and some random sweats because you had just gotten home from a concert the night before. Ochako was the one able to capture this beautiful moment of the couple. You had been teasing him for being able to cook but not bake, and he had enough of your jokes and simply picked you right off your feet. In the picture the both of you were smiling widely, especially Bakugou. When you posted the picture, fans analyzed the picture like crazy.

Bakugou knew he wasn’t the most well liked Pro-Hero, but the amount of people who tried to make a video showing the picture and claiming it was “obvious” that he was abusing you was a little annoying. You always reassured the blond when you caught him watching those videos, turning off his phone and climbing in his lap. His hands happily making his way on your waist as you ran your fingers through his hair while the other hand held his face gently. His eyes would close and you would whisper sweet nothings in his ear, praising him for anything and everything, sometimes even singing the songs you wrote for him.

Bakugou still remembers when the two of you were almost a year into the relationship (ten months and 6 days to be exact) and in the mist of him casually scrolling on TikTok a video of you performing at your concert popped up. He was certainly surprised to see videos already posted, since the concert had quite literally just ended. Obviously he watched the video, adoring how you talked to your fans.

“Now children, calm down so I can talk. I am not gonna talk over your borderline screaming, there’s no way in hell I’m gonna be able to sing after this if I talk like that.”

Bakugou snickered. He always loved when you were sassy and continued to watch.

“So whilst on tour, I’ve had a song stuck in my head,” the crowd went wild, probably thinking you were going to play one of your songs called “stuck in my head.” Your face lit up in realization, and you laughed at the mistake you made.

“Oh my poor babies, I’m so sorry but I am not playing that song.”

You gave your crowd an apologetic smile as they booed you. Bakugou’s eyebrows furrowed, upset as to why you were being booed, but continued to watch nonetheless.

“Oh my gosh get over yourself,” you rolled your eye waiting for the crowd to settle down before starting up again.

“I had like, this chorus just repeating itself over and over again. It was so annoying y’all! I felt like I was going crazy! And what made it even more annoying is that I couldn’t go to my safe place and sit down and write it cus-“

You gestured to your surroundings.

“-I’m on tour.”

The crowd went wild for longer than Bakugou liked, but you let them get it out, shaking your head like you were disappointed but the smile gave you away.

“Instead I had to settle with my oh so very empty tour bus bed, and write the song there. It was literally like, what? 3AM? And I was sitting on that bed with my guitar, notebook, and my laptop. I’m so glad I wasn’t sharing or like in a hotel because I was up until 5…”

You bent over to laugh, and the audience as well. Meanwhile, your now very grumpy boyfriend was about to close the app and text you not to do shit like that. You put on full fledge concerts for crying out loud! You should not be staying up that late just to write a goddamn song.

“And that was last night.”

The concert booed as Bakugou’s patience started to thin. What the hell were you thinking? You even texted him goodnight at like 2! Rest is very important and you need to-

“But I’m glad that I did, because I think this is my new favorite song. And I just can’t wait anymore, so is it okay if I play it for you guys?”

The crowd literally went feral. The person recording was screaming along with every goddamn person at that place. Bakugou was now fully sitting up in his bed, eager to listen to this song. He was a little hurt, he will admit. You always send him a video of the many songs that you write sporadically on this tour, and you’ve written a lot. So why didn’t you do the same thing here? What was so different about this song that he couldn’t be the first to hear it like usual?

“That sounds like a yes,” you reached for one of the many necklaces you were wearing and pulled out a very thin necklace with a familiar pendant. Bakugou immediately recognized it, as it was the one he got for you on your six month anniversary. It was one of the petals of a rose that you saved from your first date. He had it dried and put into a charm of a necklace when he noticed you getting upset that you couldn’t keep the flowers he got you. When he gave it to you, tears were falling down your face as he kissed you. That’s when he swore to himself that if he met any of your exes he wouldn’t leave without giving them a brand new scar.

You pulled it out and kissed it gently, before whispering into it.

“This is for you baby.”

Bakugou’s eyes widened, the crowd losing their minds and you started playing guitar. The two of you would make the smallest hints that you were in a relationship, but never as bold as this. Not that he was complaining.

Secretly he had been wanting to let the public know that you were dating, he wanted everyone to know you were his and he was yours. He was honestly sick of seeing people “ship” him with extras and he especially hated when the same happened to you.

He’s good for my heart but he’s bad for business

Tears me apart when he grants my wishes

All of my friends think I’ve gone crazy

But they don’t know me like my baby~

Bakugou remembers that moment like it was yesterday. His face instantly blossomed a bright blush, and his lips formed a soft smile. The crowd finally settled down after the beginning and he was able to listen to the song, closing his eyes pretending like he was there in the audience. He put the phone up to his ear and laid back down, soaking up every word and every note.

He’s good

It’s bad

The best I’ve ever had

And he’s so nice

It’s sad

He ruined all my plans

And he just makes me so crazy

I know everyone sees

He’ll be the death of me

That’s how he got here, standing in a special area in your sold out venue wearing your newest merch.

And Bakugou Katsuki was terrified.


This was the first time he had come to see your concert, because last time you toured it was when your relationship was a secret. Now, he sat nervously in his chair, his colleagues on either side of him. You had given all of them tickets, making sure they had the best seats in the house but also allowed them to not be disturbed by fans.

Bakugou was bouncing his leg, picking at his fingernails as he watched the crowd. It seemed that nobody knew they were there, everyone waiting in anticipation of your show. Your music was so diverse, everyone knew that it would contain all sorts of emotions and energies. You were the type of performer who liked to be as close to the audience as possible, you loved adding commentary to your songs during the pauses, making faces, and dancing around. You loved to have fun, and let loose. When you got the green light to plan the tour, you were practically bouncing off the walls of your now shared home. You spent three months planning it, which was a new record for you, before announcing. However, there was just one thing that Bakugou didn’t like about the tour.

He knew absolutely nothing about it. In fact, you made sure of it. Hiding your notebook, changing your laptop’s password, making sure your manager didn’t tell him shit about it. That’s why he was terrified. His partner, his very famous singer/songwriter of a soulmate was about to do the very first night of the tour in Japan and Bakugou didn’t know a thing.

That’s why Bakugou Katsuki was terrified.

Soon enough, the lights began to dim, and people started to stand up. A hush fell over the crowd as the venue blacked out, and the wrist bands on everyone’s wrists lit up.

“Holy shit it’s happening.” Kaminari whispered to Bakugou, grin spreading across his face.

Ochako, Kaminari, and Mina happily took the evening off to see you, while the rest of your invites weren’t able to. Kirishima made Bakugou promise at least one photo of the two of them after the show.

A soft hum came out of the speakers, and suddenly a spotlight appeared to reveal you standing at the very far back of the stage. The crowd went insane, and you walked down the stage.

When it came to your outfits, you always had to keep it comfortable. You loved to jump around dancing, sometimes fall to your knees dramatically. You especially loved to squat. Jumping around in that position and when you stood up you always made sure to flaunt the ass that you worked very hard on in the gym.

You came out strutting down the stage in very baggy and flowy black pants and a very cropped black long sleeve sweater that allowed you to show off the lace bra that went down to your belly button. But that wasn’t where it stopped, nor was it the best part of your outfit. To Bakugou’s surprise you were wearing boots with an obnoxiously thick heel, that were very obviously Dynamite themed.

Bakugou smirked at the sight, taking in the rest of the little details of your outfit. You wore a giant ring on your index finger that was also Dynamite inspired, as a fan gave it to you, and Bakugou could see his initials sewn into the bottom of your sweater.

You stopped at the end of the runway, pulling the microphone away from your face in a dramatic motion. You slowly looked around, taking in your crowd. A smile spread across your face, and when your gaze looked straight forward to look for Bakugou, he made sure to make little sparks from his hands to let you know he was right here. You pointed at him with the finger that had the Dynamite ring on it, and Bakugou honestly felt like it was just you and him in the stadium. You mouthed an ‘I love you’ at him, and Bakugou was now ignoring the new roar from the audience.

“You guys should get married already.” Mina whispered in Bakugou’s ear, and instead of blowing her face up, he just smiled, still looking in your direction.

“I plan on it.”

The first song you sang was one of your oldest ones, which also happened to be a much slower and sadder song. Instead of listening to the grim lyrics (not because they were bad, just because Bakugou hated to remember how bad some of your relationships were and didn’t want to get angry) the hero closed his eyes and listened to your voice. He wanted to take in his environment and all the notes you sang. The song started to drift off midway, which confused Bakugou. His eyes suddenly snapped open when he heard your newest song, which was much more upbeat. He watched you jump in the air and sing the song with much more passion than the original version. The crowd recovered quickly from the switch up and was singing along happily.

You sang a couple more of your newer and upbeat songs, making sure to add new notes to them and even belt a couple of notes to get the crowd excited. You were having so much fun, and Bakugou had never seen you look more alive. This is where you belonged, and he wanted to be right here every time watching.

There was a pause for you to sit down at the edge of the runway. You sat criss-cross, and much closer to the audience for Bakugou’s liking. He always got nervous when you reached out for a fan’s hand, scared that they would do something that could hurt you.

Thankfully, that hadn’t ever happened, and you sat very cutely waiting for the audience to quiet down so you could speak.

“Wow. We’re halfway through already? Well, I think we all know what that means…”

You cocked your head to the side, and a soft piano started to play a familiar rhythm.

“Ladies, gentlemen, and everything in between, get out your tissues. It is now time to remember why you are no longer dating your ex, and for you to be reminded that your trauma isn’t just a thing that makes you funny.”

The crowd screamed, but almost immediately stopped when you began to sing in a much softer and lower register than before. As depressing as these songs may be, Bakugou firmly believes that these types of songs bring out the best in your voice. It allows you to challenge your breath control, and truly sing with so much passion and emotion.

A couple of songs pass, and Bakugou finds you when the stage gets lit up again. You’re in the middle of the runway, standing with your head down waiting for the band to begin. As soon as the piano starts, the crowd screams and yells. This is one of your all-time most popular songs, it was the one that caught a lot of people’s attention and boosted your popularity. Funnily enough, you actually hated this song because you wrote it in high school, so Bakugou was surprised to see you preform it.

“Is this Sick of Losing Soulmates?” Ochako yelled, because of the screaming of your audience.

Bakugou turned to her and confirmed her suspicions, making Mina and Kaminari start screaming along with the audience (as they were doing the entire time).

Bakugou watched as you began to sing, and noticed how you really got into it. You added a lot more dramatic pauses before certain lines, and even speaking some of the lyrics, making it feel more like anger than sadness.

Yeah, I’m sick of losing soulmates

Won’t be alone again

I can finally see you’re as fucked up as me

So how do we begin?

At one point, you laid down on your back, reaching for the sky as you sang your heart out, and Bakugou noticed you choking up a bit at certain lyrics.

We will grow old as friends

I've promised that before, so what's one more in our grey-haired circle, waiting for the end?

Time and hearts will wear us thin

So which path will you take, 'cause we both know a break does exactly what it says on the tin

The song soon ends, and your last pose has you on your knees, head looking down at the floor. The stadium goes pitch dark, including the wrist bands, before they light up again along with your stage. Bakugou sees you wipe a tear off your cheek, and you sit there once more taking in your fans that take the chance to start chanting your name. You put your lips together, closing your eyes and putting your hands on your heart. Your eyebrows are furrowed and Bakugou can tell you’re still crying. In that moment he wanted nothing more than to go to you and hold you, wiping away your tears and replacing them with tender kisses.

You open your eyes, putting the mic back to your mouth and the audience quiets down in order to let you speak.

“Oh boy, I am so overwhelmed by emotions. I mean that was the song that started it all right?”

The crowd was still practically silent, as you’ve trained them well. You get off your knees and get into a more comfortable sitting position (criss-cross of course) and continue.

“I used to absolutely loath that song, because I wrote that when I was at my lowest. I was so sick and tired of love, having to try again over and over again. Every relationship that ended seem to break a piece of me off, and I was honestly starting to give up.”

You let out a broken chuckle, putting your free hand over your eyes momentarily before starting again.

“But then I met Katsuki, in which he literally crashed into my life.”

The crowd stayed silent, but Bakugou could tell they wanted to start screaming. You were not looking at him, and to his surprise Bakugou felt a tear run down his cheek.

“Three years of paradise. I’ve always had a fear of losing you, but it especially hits when I sing songs like that.”

There was a pause, and suddenly Bakugou felt like he was back in that studio where he met you. Staring at you and falling in love all over again.

“I love you baby, forever and always.”

Bakugou smiled, and all that fear that was with him before left. You were his and he was yours, and that’s all that he needed.

“I love you too,” he whispered, and you knew.

Bakugou Katsuki was no longer terrified.

╰── ⋅ ⋅ ─ ✩ ─⋅ ⋅ ──╯

none of the songs quoted are not mine!!! the first one is “Bad for Business” by Sabrina Carpenter, and the second one is “Sick of Losing Soulmates” by dodie

i hope you enjoyed bc boy oh boy i did

literally took me 4 hours to write but i couldn’t pull myself away from the keyboard

i rlly need to start writing other characters for x readers but oh well

[painted-bees]

Weeeeeeee binge reading the Cortes blorbos to see if I missed anything (which I did lol, greatly enjoyed reading the new-to-me posts!) and I'm curious how Raf and Margie went from hey-come-crash-at-my-place to cool-I-live-here-now. also what was going through Margie's mind the first time she stayed at Raf's place? If he'd openly told her she could stay as long as she liked, how come she left before he came home from work? also did she talk about it at all at their next jam session?

(sorry for Wall of Text I didn't realize I had more questions until I started typing them out haha)

Yay!! I am so happy!! Thank you for going through all that Q vQ <3!!

In honesty once Raf realizes she's unhoused, and consequently invites her to crash at his place for the first time, he becomes kinda very "pspspsps🤌" to Magritte ever since, in effort to entice her to just--stay. Largely because he reads her as being very trusting, naive, and vulnerable, and really doesn't trust the world with someone like her. Magritte herself isn't as naive as she is in his imagination, and objectively, he does know that, but his brain naturally comes up with the worst-case scenarios for everything. Still, his paranoid nature also doesn't allow him to be wholly straightforward with her. He's unable to just tell her point blank "hey, make my place your own alright? I just want you to be safe." He can't, because if things ever go sideways and he suddenly wants her out, he wouldn't really be able to create that distance anymore without looking like kind of an asshole for doing so. So, he avoids making that commitment while trying to entice her to take it from him anyways.

It doesn't work lmao

Until this point, Raf has always been the 'skittish' one of the two of them, but when it comes to staying in once place for long, Magritte's own brand of protective skittishness emerges. And it's completely different from Raf's.

Magritte has become aware of the cycle that's repeated ever since she's started couch surfing and relying on the charity of friends + acquaintances. She's a fun, sweet, bubbly, cute person with a bit of a quirky vibe, and so things always start off fun and well enough. But inevitably, her presence becomes a strain. And her lack of contributions to the place she is staying at becomes a point of resentment. And justly so, she thinks. Try as she might, she's not a very clean or hygienic roommate--quite the opposite, to a degree that she knows should be more embarrassing to her than it for some reason is. Sporadic showering scheduel, forgotten plates of rotting food, unwashed clothing on the floor of her room for weeks...She leaves lights on, turns thermostats up too high, forgets to clean up after herself, when she does shower, she stays too long and uses up all the hot water. When asked to do favors, if she cannot preform them as soon as they are requested, there's a high likelihood she'll just forget to do them. None of these things on their own are a terrible deal-breaker...but when it's all of these things, often...and then the rent is due and the electricity and water bill is high, and Magritte's response is "Sorry, sorry! I can buy you lunch if that helps, I'm sorry!"--you know...it gets kind of...upsetting. And friends eventually come to resent her before they gather the courage to tell her that she's gotta find somewhere else to live for a while.

If she doesn't leave before things accumulate to that point, then she loses friends.

Raf has already proven that he's very protective/defensive about his space and his privacy. By the time Raf invites her to stay the night at his place, she's still trying to figure out his boundaries--and from her perspective, they seem to shift around a lot in unpredictable ways.

She likes the relationship she has with Raf. Their Thursday night jam sessions are the one thing she looks forward to the most every single week. She doesn't want to do anything to compromise that.

That first night Margie crashes in his guest bedroom, it's just really good timing and she's really happy to have a comfy, warm bed to sleep in. They get home some time around 1am, and both just...go to sleep almost as soon as they arrive at his apartment lmao. But she's awake as soon as she hears him up and about because she's worried that sleeping in will make her seem like a lazy, bad guest. Also, free coffee....... And they have a really nice, casual chat over breakfast about just...stuff haha.

Raf invites her to stay as long as she wants, but she leaves before he gets home because she doesn't...know when he'll be back, and what if she lost track of time and he comes home to a mess? What if she breaks something? What if she impulsively eats all the stuff in his fridge? What if the neighbors complain to him about the music?? She leaves his place shortly after he leaves for work, once the temperature warms up a bit outside. Because she not confident in her ability to take up only a 'polite' amount of space in his home. So she'd rather just--not.

And--she doesn't want to spend too many consecutive nights, because...then why wouldn't she just stay the whole day, too? How does she explain that she doesn't want him to dislike her for having the habits and manners of a gross little goblin creature? lmao

Raf's automatic assumption is that Margie doesn't like staying at his place cuz she just doesn't like his place. Maybe it's boring, maybe the smell of weed keeps her away lmao. But then he begins to realize how she literally won't do anything unless he's there to tell her she can. Like she's afraid to just make herself at home. And it's...fair. The few times she does attempt to own her space, his instinctive reaction is to point it out to her in one way or another, because the paranoia nips at his heels with "she's getting too comfortable". He's quick to correct himself or assure her it's fine, actually...but he gets annoyed at his own kneejerk responses.

Finally, after a few months of fruitlessly trying to encourage Magritte to treat his apartment as a place she can fall back on and stay in without worrying about imposing, Raf just...gives her a set of keys, "Here's your keys".

And Magritte slides them back over to him, "That's super sweet of you, but you'd get so sick of me, so fast haha."

Raf, a little stung by the outright rejection is just like, "Nah, I don't think so." and Magritte is like, "I know, but you gotta trust me."

She gives him the full lo-down on how this kinda thing has always gone in the past, her terrible domestic habits, her penchant for neglecting responsibilities and failing to deliver on favors. She can't even offer to contribute to rent in any reliable way, because her income and spending habits are so consistently inconsistent that she can't even promise herself that she'll eat two to three meals a day.

There are other people and facilities that she can lean on that would hurt her less if they decided they had enough of her.

She really, really, really doesn't want to screw things up with Raf. She likes hanging out with him. She doesn't want him to grow sick and resentful of her. In an effort to lighten the subject, she concludes it with "yanno, too much of a good thing, haha."

Raf has never wanted to scrunch someone up into a little ball and slam dunk them into a warm, cozy, protective little pillow fort so badly in his entire gd life lmao For someone who is so paranoid of being taken advantage of, he's really taken off guard by this kind of...idk, preserving refusal? On one hand, it's a really considerate gift, an expression of "I like you, not the favors and resources I can extract from you" he's never really had to navigate before. On the other hand, wrt the situation, it's extremely fucking frustrating lmao.

Raf admits that he worries about her probably more than he ought to, and he'd really appreciate it if she could just...oblige him on this. He promises to tell her if he ever feels like he'd prefer to have his space back, and that he'd do so well before it ever risks compromising their friendship. Because just as much as she likes hanging out and playing music with him, he enjoys it, too. It's not just her who's worried about ruining a good thing. "Just stay. One month, and and we can see how we're feeling about it after that. If it doesn't work out, it doesn't work out and we can still meet up to jam every week. But, if you stay here, we can play music any day we want."

She might have refused if he hadn't thrown in that last line.

[leggerefiore]

Can I request sfw and nsfw romantic hcs for giovanni?? He gives off sugar daddy vibessss 😩

I'll do NSFW later💕 someone else requested it, too, and I want to keep the posts separated so it's easier for those uninterested in that part to avoid lol

cw: interesting dynamics at play here, fluff

🚀Giovanni General Romance HCs🐈

🟥 The Rocket Boss may allow himself many leisures, but a romantic partner had not been one. The idea of risking something like that seemed like too much of a gamble that he simply did not wish to account for in his goings-on. Few people could even catch his eye in such a meaningful way. Whatever small affair he may have had with his executive had never been done with any intention of actually initiating something more seriously. The child that resulted was simply to be his heir, even if said child seemed to only want to reject the offer. Yet, when some overly defiant trainer was apparently keen to attempt to interfere with his plans. Well, they certainly had his attention whether they wanted it or not.

🟥 You seemed to want to mock him. The small bruise to his ego might as well have been a brutal, bleeding claw mark to him, however. It starts off as some strange game of cat and mouse. The roles could vary between you both, but he truly respected your strength and confidence. Which is how you ended up baited into a nice dinner with Giovanni. Things naturally only built from there… Why keep opposing him – Justice? Perhaps morality? He could provide much better things than that. You seemed more than tempted by the offer, which he simply enjoyed. He was more than happy to have you at his side.

🟥 PDA depends on the situation with him. During a meeting? If he can use it as an intimidation tactic, absolutely? You can sit on his lap while he has an arm wrapped around your waist. You are free to do whatever as long as it does not distract him too much. Giovanni will not be so into it if it is a time he wishes to appear more menacing, though. Basically, just read the room and find out what he is doing first. In the general public, he does like to keep a hand on you in some way. His line of work has made him many enemies, and he would hate to see you pay for it. An arm seems to find its way around your shoulder or a hand grasps at your wrist tightly. Kissing is more limited, though.

🟥 In private, Giovanni still varies quite a bit. There is time he needs to focus on his planning and thoughts. In those moments, he would prefer to be left alone. Yet, the opposite is true. There are times he wants nothing more than to have you close to him. Arms will pull you into his lap as he buries his face in your nape. He finds it strange that your presence alone draws out such positive feelings. He almost finds it addicting. When he returns home, you usually get greeted with a kiss as well. There is something foreign about the domestic sentiment that is thoroughly enjoyable. Sporadically, he seems to scratch at your head like he does his Persian's own. The action is quickly stopped after he realises what he is doing. A chuckle is all you get in response to your question of why.

🟥 Naturally, you are free to do whatever to him, too. In fact, he laps up your affections. It is a bit of an ego trip to him. Every kiss you lay upon his skin and every embrace that you lock him into. The way you cuddle with him in bed… He finds it different from the nuisance that he used to find you as. The feeling of your body close to his is a rare comfort that he almost wishes that he allowed himself sooner. It was so different from the pleasures of the body that he had accustomed himself to.

🟥 Dates are lavish outings that come most often when he has a successful affair in his work. Fancy dinners are preferred alongside outings to certain lounges around Kanto. Though, he would be happy to indulge your wishes, too. As long as it was not directly to a police station, you can drag him to the most garish places in the region. There is a certain preference to stick to cities, yet there are a few times he has enjoyed a nature walk with you. A certain trip to Viridian forest showed a strange side to him when stopped to gaze at a passing Nidoran. He ultimately shook his head and continued on with you, though.

🟥 There is some sort of faux domesticity shared between you both. He is not anywhere near a traditional lover, nor is there any expectation for you to align yourself with any role. Coming home to you is a nice change from the empty home he was more than used to. Being greeted by you after a long day completely breaks the annoyance that would otherwise flood his mind, his feels something prideful when his arms lock around your waist. It also shows up in how you both understand the other's preferences. A nostalgic meal waiting for him at home meshes well with the gift he saw got you while he was out and knew you would enjoy. Though, these moments are exceedingly rare with how busy he can get.

🟥 He does have a jealous streak, surprisingly. As confident and sure of himself he is, his business does not make him an easy man to love. It would be far too simple for him to be gone away for work and return to you in the arms of a much more loving person. Any attempts by others in flirting with you in public gets met with his savage glare and possibly even a very subtle threat. Many around him know better than to try anything like that with you. The longer your relationship with him goes on; however, he cools off from it. There is no need for such behaviour when it is clear that you are not going anywhere.

🟥 Some strange part of him desires for you to meet his son. The logical part of his brain knows that it would not be received well, yet there is some urge to reconnect with the boy and show him that he has made changes to himself. Silver would likely despise you, though. His feelings towards Giovanni were plain to observe. It is mostly a fantasy, he knows.

🟥 A relationship with Giovanni has many ups and downs, mixed with highs and lows. His work will always be his main focus, but it is obvious that he does care for you. He almost treats you like a pet cat at times, though. There are many risks involved with a relationship to a man like him, too, and the looming threat that he may just vanish one day if something goes to awry. But, perhaps, in the situation that he does disappear from his position, he will bring you along with him. It is impossible to tell with him. At least, it is fun while it lasts.