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aphrogeneias · 7 months

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Luiza you have no idea what you’ve done because I’ve wanted to talk about this for ages.

Remember that scene in the bronze where spike and buffy are up on the balcony? And he’s fooling around with her (fingering or fucking her it’s left vague lmao) and he’s telling her to look down at her friends and saying she belongs in the dark with him????

That with Eddie.

do they know?

summary: eddie always knows exactly where to find you, even when you don't want to be found.

pairing: vampire!eddie munson x slayer!reader

word count: 1.2k

warnings: smut (+18), a little angst at the beginning. semi-public sex, fingering, dirty talk, hair pulling, biting.

It's quiet up here, the opposite of what a nightclub should be.

Some stubborn voice in the back of your mind tells you that you should be having fun. You watch your friends from where you're standing, the empty balcony of the club you've been attending for years, dancing and joking around, making up their own silly choreographies as tonight’s band played something groovy.

Robin and Nancy hold each other's hands as they dance, Chrissy spins around in her pretty dress, Barb watches them from her trusty place at your usual table, smiling and singing along. They don't seem to notice how long you've been gone, maybe because you've been doing that a lot lately.

Hiding, that is. Leaving places early, without saying goodbye. You don't mean to, you just don't feel much like yourself these days. Not like the girl you used to be, but something new, different — scarred, tainted by something dark, marked by it.

It isn't easy to explain, the shadow that death leaves on someone. You were way too young when you took on this job, and it took a while until the weight of it started to pull you down, but it was finally starting to.

Maybe it was also due to the fact that you'd recently fallen into a bad habit, who was currently staring up at you from the dancefloor. In the middle of the sparse crowd, the only pair of eyes looking up are a deep brown, finding you in your hiding place.

You're not exactly surprised. Eddie hasn't left town in a while, and you'd seen him a couple of days ago — throwing rocks at your bedroom window until you let him in, climbing under your sheets, leaving before dawn.

If you felt colder without him in the morning than with him in your bed, when he wrapped his body around you like he loved you, you told no one.

Eddie disappears into the crowd until you can feel him again, right behind you. You don't want to give him the satisfaction of looking back, and suddenly, he's there, shielding your body with his, his chest to your back as his arms grab the railing in front of you, surrounding you with his leather clad arms.

The smell of cologne and cigarettes invades your every sense, and you need to keep from inhaling deeply. You wish you could turn around and bury your face on his chest, nuzzle into the worn cotton of his shirt, breathe him in.

You do everything to avoid the strange comfort Eddie brings you. It almost hurts, the intensity with which he draws you in.

“Not exactly the life of the party, are you?” You can feel his eyes on the side of your face, his insufferable stare paired with a grin.

“You know me.” You respond, simply.

“Mhm. You're right, I know you.” His chest vibrates behind you as he hums, caging you in even more. “All work and no play makes the little slayer a huge bitch.”

Rolling your eyes, you finally force yourself to glance at him from over your shoulder. “You came all the way here just to insult me?”

“No, but you make it hard not to.” He chuckles. “Just wanted to check on you, actually.”

He surprises you with a kiss on your shoulder, over your top. The whiplash still hasn't settled with you, the hot and cold of it all. Does he hate you? Does he… No. He doesn't.

“There's nothing to check. I'm clearly fine.” You bite your lip.

“So, you're clearly hiding from your friends”, he keeps kissing you, from your shoulder to your neck, now dragging his lips over bare skin, “for no reason?”

“I'm not hiding.” Swallowing hard, you try to stand your ground, but you already feel your walls start to crumble. “I'm just… tired, I guess.”

“Tired of what?” The hands that were on the rail are now in your waist, grabbing and squeezing you, until one of them descends to your hip, and the other up to your back. It slides up your spine, and settles on the back of your neck, while he grabs you by the hair, pulling your head back. “Of keeping up appearances? Pretending to be a good girl?”

You feel it all. His curls brushing your skin, the roughness of the hand that is now on your thigh, rising to feel you under your skirt, his nose digging on your cheek. You're surrounded by him, and regretfully, you wouldn't have it any other way.

“I'm not pretending.” You’re already breathing heavily. “I am good.”

“You sure? I don't know about that.” He finally reaches the crotch of your panties, finding them already sticky with your wetness. His fingers tease you above the fabric, lazily circling your clit, as if he has all the time in the world. “I think you're a bad, bad girl, and you know It too.”

It's all happening at the same time. He's keeping you in place with arm around your waist while he pulls your panties to the side and finally allows you to feel him, “Look at them. Do you think they know?”

You don't speak as he forces you to look forward, down to your blissfully unaware friends. It's dark where you stand, but all they'd have to do was look up and see you in this position. Heat fills your chest, up to your cheeks, and you grab his wrist, attempting to stop him.

He doesn't mind, instead he keeps his hand there, fingers slowly working your clit, dipping to your entrance to collect the slick steadily dripping from you, and back to your little button, “Do you think they know how much of a naughty little slayer you are? Do they know how much you like getting fucked by the big, bad monster you claim to hate? How much you love my fingers in your pussy, how you beg for more?”

Almost as if on cue, you plead. “Please, Eddie. Don't do this to me.”

“Do what?” He whispers, leaning his head down again, locking his lips to your chin, leaving a tender, lingering bite there. “This?”

Finally, he starts fucking you with one of his fingers, and then two. Eddie doesn't waste time, keeping a steady pace, letting you grind your clit on his palm. “You can't deny it because you know it's true. You know you love this, your body claims for me.”

You're grateful for the loud sound of the band playing, drowning out your little whimpers and moans. It's almost embarrassing how close you are already, his voice doing almost all the work for you, his thick fingers caressing your inner walls and hitting that spot inside you over and over.

Delirious little whispers of “yes, yes, yes” leave your bitten lips as you clench around him, tiny white stars behind your eyes as you cum. He keeps whispering sweet nothings in your ear — all you hear is a vague “that's it, that's my girl” at some point — as you come down, still working his fingers inside of you, slowly at first, and then removing them.

When you regain your senses, you notice the bulge in his leather pants digging into your backside.

“Are you bringing stakes around with you now?”

“Funny.” He says, but doesn't laugh. “Find me in the bathroom downstairs in five. I'm not done with you.”

Again, you feel colder when he's gone.

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson smut #eddie munson fanfic

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minnaci · 5 months

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POST-SHOW AFTERGLOW

contents: heartsteel!shieda kayn x afab gn!reader (reader's anatomy is described using the words "pussy", "cunt", "clit", and "cervix"), bottom!reader, use of insertive sex toys by reader, kayn walks in on reader masturbating, established relationship, bedsheet banter, fingering, penis-in-vagina sex, cervix mention, light dumbification, creampie, post-coital cockwarming

watching kayn perform live never fails to get you hot and bothered. luckily, kayn is always willing to take responsibility.

or, kayn fucks reader after a heartsteel concert. it's ridiculously good.

there's a wild sort of energy that ebbs and flows around kayn post-show. adrenaline— lightning in a bottle. he's on top of the world. he'd win any fight. he's ready for anything—

his train of thought comes to an abrupt end as he nudges open the door to your bedroom, and immediately, every cell in his body is subsumed by the low-burning embers of arousal.

he is not ready for this.

blankets lay crumpled around your spread legs. you're an angel, every curve caressed by soft light, and your eyes are squeezed shut as you fuck yourself on a thick dildo.

kayn recognizes that toy. it's the one that's the closest to his size and shape. you only use it when you're feeling particularly needy for him, or when you miss him. a soft, tender ache blooms in his chest.

"kayn," you whimper, sugar sweet. you don't seem to have noticed him, lost in your own world of pleasure. "kayn, please, please, i need you, please—"

your voice breaks on a sob, and kayn's mouth goes dry. his fingers curl with the need to take.

"what a nice surprise." kayn's smirk widens into a full, cocky grin when your eyes fly open and you squeak with surprise.

"kayn!" your hands scramble to pull the toy out, and kayn greedily watches as your pretty hole gapes ever so slightly, fluttering around air. another shot of heat, straight to his cock.

"oh, don't stop on my account," kayn says. "i'm just enjoying the show."

your resultant pout creases right between your eyebrows, and he lets loose a laugh, crossing the room in three eager, bounding steps to capture your lips in a passionate kiss. his tongue flickers out, and he licks into your mouth. he loves how you melt in his arms, how you always let him in so easily. you're so perfect for him. he's just about to crawl into bed and show you just how perfect he thinks you are when—

"shower first," you murmur against his lips, as if you hadn't been making a mess of the sheets for hours before he came home.

"but—" kayn knows exactly what you're about to say. he's got "dirty" clothes on, so he can't get on the bed, which is "clean". but can anyone really blame him when you look so tempting, so obscene, that his brain hurts from how hard his cock is?

"kayn—"

"hear me out." he presses a few sweet, pleading kisses to your cheeks, relishing in the way you melt under his easy affection.

"...fine."

"you're so beautiful, baby. look at you all fucked out. do you really expect me to make it a whole shower without jerking off? and if i jerk off, i'll cum, and there won't be anything left in the ol' sacks to fill you with."

you raise an eyebrow, clearly not impressed. damn it. looks like kayn has to bring out the big guns.

"...i'll wash the sheets after we're done," kayn adds. "so they'll be clean again."

"you really want me so bad you'd do laundry for me?" you swoon dramatically— a feat when you're already laying in bed. "is this what it means to be loved?"

"you're a menace," he says. it can't be legal for you to be both cute and devastatingly sexy at the same time. fuck, he loves you so much he swears he'll explode with it. his chest tightens. his fists clench. he can't stand it.

he pounces onto you, heart singing at the elated little yelp you let out as he presses a flurry of kisses to your face.

"i love you," kayn growls, incongruously aggressive for how sweet the words are. his fingers find their way between your thighs, rubbing where you want it the most. he dips inside, just a little, but you tense as if he's shoved all five (and a half!) inches inside of you at once.

"love you— love you too, kayn—"

fuck, he could listen to you saying his name just like that for years, and he'd never go soft.

"relax for me, baby." he stretches you in gentle, practised movements, head spinning as you obey, body going pliant under his covetous hands. you're so perfect for him, already soft and wet from your earlier stint with your toy. your lips find his weak spot— the tender patch of skin right between the junction of his neck and jaw— and he groans, feeling a little insane as you rock back against his fingers, dripping sweet and sticky like warm honey.

"i can't hold back much longer," he says, voice strangled.

"so don't." your breath catches as the tip of his finger brushes against your sweet spot, so he does it again, just to hear you gasp. he could get lost in this, this pleasure of playing your body like the finest of instruments, pulling sound after needy, dripping sound from your pretty mouth.

"kayn— kayn, please, stop teasing, don't hold back, please, i need you—" the sheer desperation in your voice makes kayn's blood sing with pleasure, and he gently removes his fingers from your aching hole, much to your chagrin. you line up the head of his cock with your entrance, shuddering as it pulses a thick glob of pre-cum over your skin. "inside, inside, please—"

there's nothing quite like the initial stretch of kayn's cock as he bullies his way inside of you. he's so thick, and the way he's got you folded makes him feel even bigger. your jaw hangs slack, every nerve trembling with anticipation.

the tip of his cock nudges inside, and you both let out twin moans. your cunt is hungry for it. desperate, even— your gaze goes hazy and unfocused as your pussy sucks softly at his tip.

"so fucking good," he groans. "how are you so fucking good every time?"

if you could speak, you'd say that you could ask him the same thing, but any semblance of coherent speech is knocked from the forefront of your mind as he eases deeper into you. every additional inch of his hot, throbbing cock only serves to make your mind go blank with pleasure. your eyes roll back, flutter shut.

"fuuuck, that's it, baby. feels good, doesn't it?" kayn shudders as he bottoms out. the very tip of his cock kisses a spot deep inside, so sensitive that it sends a thrill up your spine. "there it is— there's that weak spot. yeah, let me use it against you, baby. 'm gonna fuck all that resistance right out of your pretty hole..."

he rolls his hips once, twice, giving a few deep, experimental thrusts. true to his word, his cock massages over your sweet spot. you can't fight the onslaught of sensation, and even if you could, you wouldn't want to. it's so, so good— too good to resist, too good to fight. pleasure melts your brain, turning every coherent thought you might have had to gooey bliss.

your jaw hangs slack. your head spins. pleasure curls around your limbs, pulling you to new heights of mindless need.

"yeah, that's right. this is what you needed, isn't it?"

you don’t have to reply— the answer is written in the slight crossing of your eyes, the subtle trembling of your ribcage, the thin line of saliva that drips from the corner of your mouth. heat builds in your core, spreading like fire across your skin, and you let loose a long moan.

“kayn…” you struggle to make eye contact, lucidity slipping through your fingers with every devastating thrust.

“no thinking,” he says. his thumb finds your clit. the added stimulation makes it all too easy to obey. any semblance of logical thought dissipates into hazy pleasure. you wouldn’t be surprised if your brain was leaking straight out of your dripping cunt.

“no thinking,” you repeat dumbly, looping your arms around his neck and pulling him close. your fucked-out gaze meets his, and he curses under his breath, cock pulsing inside of you. through it all, he continues rubbing those maddening, mind-melting circles on your clit, pushing you closer and closer to the edge.

heat envelopes you, swallows you whole and digests you, transforming you into a being of need and pleasure. your nerves sing with molten arousal. every touch, every breath, every heartbeat only sends you spiraling further and further into the depths of debauchery.

“that’s it, baby, let me make you feel good, yeah, yeah—” kayn babbles, his hips stuttering out of rhythm. it makes his cock slide in that much deeper, makes his thumb slip just right against the hood of your clit, and— and—

you fall apart on his cock with a wail, unable to resist the overwhelming pleasure. it burns through you, sets the stars ablaze behind your eyelids. your sanity shatters as you all but convulse, gorging yourself on decadent sensation.

thick, creamy warmth floods your insides, and you practically purr at the way the tip of kayn’s cock kisses the sensitive mouth of your cervix. he’s still mumbling mindless praises against the soft skin of your neck even as he fucks you through both of your orgasms. his voice takes on an edge of wretched desperation. “so good, so good, it hurts, baby, hurts good, i— i— fuck…”

he collapses over you, sheathing himself balls-deep with a groan. the last dregs of his cum drool from his tip, dribbling over your sensitive walls. your pussy flutters around him in response, hungry for every last drop of him, and he nearly whimpers at the added sensation. pain and pleasure swirl around you in a heady cocktail of hormones as you come down from your highs together.

when kayn kisses you, it feels right— the natural product of the raw desire that connects you. his lips move against yours sweetly, softly, and he holds you like you’re the most precious thing in the world. the afterglow is made for kissing, for heavy petting, for the cooling of sweat and softening of breaths.

"what was that all about?" kayn murmurs in the hazy quiet, pulling you closer to him. you grumble a bit as his soft cock shifts inside of you, threatening to fall out, and he makes a soothing little noise, ignoring the pricks of painful overstimulation and focusing on keeping you nice and warm and full.

"what was what all about?"

"don't play, baby. what had you so needy tonight?"

"...ah." your face heats up, and you bury your nose in his chest. still, it doesn't muffle your next words. "you looked really, really good on stage tonight. i couldn't stop looking at your stupid bulge through your stupid leather pants."

the honestly is unexpected enough to subvert kayn's knee-jerk instinct to be insufferable and smug. he gapes at you. "you're so fucking cute."

“mhm,” you hum in agreement. “and you’re beautiful. so we match.”

there’s a frazzled sort of silence as kayn short-circuits from the praise. for someone who presents with such an inflated ego, his reaction to genuine compliments is nothing short of charming.

"so... the sheets?" you break the silence, only half-joking.

kayn groans. “i’ll wash them tomorrow. let me enjoy this, baby.”

“i’m holding you to it.” you bury your face in his chest, heart melting a bit as his lips brush over the crown of your head. dirty sheets or not, there’s nowhere else you would rather be than here, limbs tangled with his, soaking in your shared pleasure.

tags: @enchantedforest-network @angelshub

#shieda kayn smut #shieda kayn x reader #heartsteel kayn smut #heartsteel kayn x reader #league of legends smut #league of legends x reader #heartsteel smut #heartsteel x reader #writemin!#+kayn

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ajortga · 7 months

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lead, part 1

pairing: jenna ortega x fem reader

a/n: I don't know how to work this, it's my first story on tumblr, i use wp and I found this story so interesting, so I wanted to try tumblr out, we'll see how this goes!

in which, you get paired as a lead with your crush, jenna ortega.

part 2

Theater.

That's where home is to the heart.

It's just so captivating. You never want to let go of it. You know you won't.

You want to do it forever when you're older.

It all started when you were in 6th grade, you can remember it like nothing could ever be forgotten. Your teacher told your class that you would be visiting the high school and experiencing their performance of Matilda. You sat in the second row, next to your friend as the shining lights began to dim and the chatters quieted.

You can just remember how captured you were in the performance. Part of it was the actors, the freshmen, sophomores, juniors, and seniors that worked together so perfectly. Your focus was on them, the setting, everything. But you knew that day, something changed.

You remember telling yourself,

You want to do that for the rest of my life.

You remember thinking of directing or acting whenever your parents asked what you wanted to be when you were older, those careers were one of the only ones that stuck each time. Sure you knew it wasn't going to be easy, but a part of you told you that this is what you wanted. That's why you were trying, even after every time you were told no.

So you applied, 9th grade year. You remember crying to your parents when they rejected the dream of acting.

You had never cried so hard more than how much you did that day. Even when you knew your parents weren't so supportive of your film future, you just..

You just wanted to try.

So you did. Then you got into advanced theater and that was all it took for your passion to grow.

You auditioned, you sang okay, you loved to act, you wanted to do everything with film.

–

Today was the day of terror.

Well you wouldn't say terror, more like the anticipation was killing you.

Middle of sophomore year, which was now, you had auditioned for the lead role. Before you only got ensembles or tech, well there was a reason, you never had the guts to audition for a lead role.

The whole day you were shaken up, biting your nails, your heartbeat quickening whenever you heard even a mention of the musical.

During your film elective, right before theater, you were nearly dying.

Not even taking in any of the teacher's words, they were translated into musical songs. You shouldn't be so excited or afraid, you were in theater already, you were certain to get at least one role.

Something was different though.

You wanted the lead.

"Nervous feelings for the theater, huh?" It was a soft, sing-song voice next to you.

You turned to see your classmate, Jenna.

She was a small brunette with pretty wavy dark brown hair and warm caramel eyes that you could drown in.

You couldn't tear your eyes off of her, she was so pretty.

You glanced at your shoes, "Yeah.. Yeah sure, I wouldn't say nervous though."

She laughed, looking at you for a moment, "You know, I was there when you auditioned, your vocals were on spot and your acting was captivating to say the least."

You broke into a small smile, "Well thanks Ortega. I'm not used to compliments, especially in theater. You auditioned for which part? I saw you practicing lines the other day."

Now it was Jenna's time to smile, she looked back at you, "Yeah, it was pretty quick, I auditioned for one of the lead's too, not your part though. I just went through my script real quick, I honestly feel that when I look at scripts once, it sticks to me."

You were going to respond but the bell for last period rang, it was the moment of truth.

You held your breath, exhaling a sigh after a moment and turned to Jenna.

"Well I think this does it, good luck then?"

She nods, grinning, "Goodluck y/n."

Wait a minute, isn't the only other lead role the love interest?

Now that you are in theater, with everyone talking, you decide to grab your headphones and click play on your spotify.

You eased, you shouldn't be so nervous but you were. If you didn't get the lead, it would show your talent and you would under look any of your true abilities in film. If you got the lead, it meant that all eyes were on you, you would be playing next to Jenna.

Your heart sang.

Lie.

Not a lie.

Stop!

Your legs bounced up and down as your classmates were waiting for your theater teacher's response for the cast of the musical.

Your teacher, Mrs. Jenn went around the classroom, almost all of your friends getting ensemble or background roles, could it be any worse? The small roles were taken by your much more talented friends, didn't that mean that you could get a small role too? Or was it just life telling your oblivious brain that you were going to get the lead?

The teacher turned to you, grabbing a card from her basket, and made eye contact, she smiled.

"I loved your audition y/n. You depicted and portrayed the part perfectly, you got the lead role along with.. Oh! Ms. Ortega! Congrats girls!" She clapped her hands together, "Alright team, rehearsals start after school starting next week on every Tuesday, Wednesday, and Thursday! Let's wrap it up, I'll be handing you your scripts that we'll memorize in class."

Your stomach flipped, your heart was jumping out of it's chest, you got the lead you wanted!

That is what you wanted...

Right?

Then why is your heart beating so quickly?

Maybe it was knowing that the girl you developed puppy love for was going to play a love interest to you.

As Mrs. Jenn came up to you, she handed you a script that held lots of pages..

A specific page caught your eye, a scene where you and Jenna had to kiss, your eyes widen, nearly choking on nothing.

This was going to be a big problem..

#jenna ortega x you #jenna ortega x reader #jenna ortega x fem!reader #tara carpenter x you #jenna marie ortega #vada cavell x reader

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teabutmakeitazure · 1 year

Text

Closing Shift

>Yan! Demon! Childe x Fem! Reader

(Modern au and supernatural au mixed together)

Warnings: borderline harassment (?), a little blood, suggestive jokes, horrifying murders (not described in detail), mentions of cults

Word count: 6.2k

The odd regular isn't who you think he is.

Part 2

ﾟ⁠.⁠*⁠･⁠｡ﾟﾟ⁠.⁠*⁠･⁠｡ﾟﾟ⁠.⁠*⁠･⁠｡ﾟﾟ⁠.⁠*⁠･⁠｡ﾟﾟ⁠.⁠*⁠･⁠｡ﾟﾟ⁠.⁠*⁠･⁠｡ﾟﾟ⁠.⁠*⁠･⁠｡ﾟﾟ⁠.⁠*⁠･⁠｡ﾟ

Higher education is hard. It kicks your ass even harder when you’re from a humble background. A majority of your classmates enjoy the freedom of financial stability when you have to work two jobs with your studies. It sucks, but you were born into the family you were, which is something you can’t change. It’s best to not complain and just work around it.

Besides, you’re smart, so you still get a pretty decent GPA and end up maintaining your scholarship. Despite all that and trusting your mind to not betray you before midterms, you can’t help but anxiously glance at the clock again and again. The closing shift in the café is as easy as it is agonising. The lack of patrons means less work, but sometimes the occasional customer who stays past closing time comes in.

Being the person you are, you’d like to be done on time so that you can sleep early and wake up early to study. However, some ginger haired idiot just came in exactly 10 minutes before your shift ends. It's not even the first time he's done this. He comes in at this same exact time every damn day and has been doing so for the past few months. You're absolutely seething with rage everytime he walks in, bell chiming as a smile makes way on his face while he sings your name. You found it peculiar at first but now it's annoying.

He must be some kind of working man who stays late in his office building. Why else would he be here at this hour? That too in those formal clothes with his tie hanging loose. It's honestly awkward when he's the only patron inside. Sometimes he makes nice conversation. Most times he prefers to sit at a distance, mostly quiet just to end up chatting with you a little before he leaves.Those lifeless blue eyes often glance over at you as you sit behind the counter staring at your laptop.

The first time you saw them up close was the first time you got chills from making eye contact with someone. It creeped you out but you never questioned it. Corporate office workers all have their souls sucked out. He should've chosen a better career.

Even now as he sits with his coffee, you can't help but feel his eyes on you again and again. The clock shows 11:06 and you're just waiting for him to leave so that you can as well. It doesn't help that his phone is in one hand, scrolling despite outright staring at you. Though he's a regular, you never asked his name. You aren't fond of the idea of getting too chummy with strangers, let alone men.

Still, his staring isn't malicious. It's kind of like an introverted person looking at someone from a distance, waiting for the right time to strike up conversation. So when you catch him looking at you again, you sigh and resign to boredom. It's not that he's ever said anything bad to you, so why not?

"Is there something wrong?"

He startles a little at your question, your voice slightly resonating through the empty café. He's seated a bit away from the counter so you saw his shoulders tense for a moment before his head turned to look at you.

"You keep glancing here." You smile at his silence, "I figured something might be the matter."

Leaning back into his seat, he casually eyes you with a grin. "Sorry, it's just that I like to keep an eye on my surroundings.”

“Surroundings, sure.” With a click of your tongue, you turn off your laptop. He’s probably almost done with his coffee by now. It’s best to have everything packed so that you’re out the door quicker.

“Hey, you never know. The city is dangerous at night.”

“You’re a man. I’m sure the least of your worries is getting mugged, not that it’s probable since this is a pretty safe city.”

He shakes his head, “Not dangerous for me, but for you.”

You had to do a double take at his statement. He’s worried about you? The city is buzzing with life till two in the morning in the summer. Plus there is a police station just two buildings away. The main reason you accepted this job was because it’s safe and honestly, you’ve never had a weird customer yet.

“Are you a student?”

You raise a brow at his question but decide to humour him anyway. “Yes. I am. Not a highschool student though. However, I will still report you if you ask me for my number for a cheap ‘modelling’ recruitment.”

The ginger head bursts into laughter at your straightforwardness. Picking up his cup, he walks over to the counter as he smiles appreciatively.

“I’m no recruiter, but I do hope to be a friend. My name's Childe by the way. You never asked so…"

"Really?" You give him a weird look as you bill him for the coffee. "Your parents birthed a boy and decided to name him Childe?"

"It's not my real name, if that helps."

You scoff as you close up the register for the day. Checking the lock of the back door, you find Childe nowhere to be seen when you come out of the employee room. He probably left. Anyone tired after a long day of work would want to go home as fast as possible. Swiping your ID at the scanner, you lock the main door after switching the sign to ‘closed’. The cleaning has already been taken care of so you merrily get on your way just to see Childe with his hand in his pocket, the other one leisurely scrolling his phone, leaning against a nearby wall.

You hug your bag closer to yourself and pretend to not notice him as you walk by. He, however, does notice and quickly jogs up to you. To the people passing by, he probably looks like the average person trying to catch up to a friend.

“Hi again.” He pockets his phone as he walks beside you. Albeit at a distance, his eyes are still trained on you as you reply with a meek hello. “Can I walk you to the station? I realise that you’d rather not let me walk you home since we don’t know each other much.”

You’re just realising this now but he never brings a bag with him. He looks like an office worker so why doesn’t he have a bag with him?

“[Name]?”

“Oh, uh sure. It’s a few blocks away. I live in the campus dorms, so you can’t walk me home even if I wanted.”

There’s an odd chill in the air. Was it always this chilly this time of year? Maybe it’s just the sea breeze.

“You know,” he says, “there’s a looot of creepy stuff going on here. Remember that time I showed you an article on that missing guy?”

“I remember not being able to sleep after that, yes.”

“Haha, yeah. Well, they just found his body.”

You stop abruptly in your tracks, the ginger head soon following as well. Taking a step back, concern spreads over your expression as you nervously gulp. “Look, Childe. I don’t know you well but you seemed like a fun guy up until now. If you’re going to creep me out at almost midnight, I’ll walk home by myself.”

An older passerby slows down as he watches you look at Childe in apprehension. Eyeing the young man with caution, he stops a few feet behind you in case the scene gets bad. Childe, however, is quick to laugh it off and apologise, prompting the man to continue on his way when you become relaxed.

“Sorry it’s just that I’m really into this stuff.”

“Seems like it.” You continue walking under the streetlights, peaking at Childe now and then. He doesn’t seem bad to you honestly. Besides his supposed penchant for saying some creepy stuff and having the creepiest conversation topics, he’s not bad. He never even makes a mess in the café so maybe you’re biassed because of that too.

“Hey, [Name]?”

“Yeah? It better not be something creepy.”

“No no. I’ve learnt my lesson. No creepy conversations with girls. Anyway, if it’s not too much trouble… could we exchange contacts?”

“Before that, tell me something. Do you work somewhere? What’s with the office getup but no work bag? And why do you always come in before closing time? What’s up with always ordering coffee? There’s such a nice menu! Try something new for a change!”

“...Is this an interrogation?”

“You’re asking to be friends, right? Well, answer me.” Twirling your finger, you give him a sly smile as he slows down in contemplation. After a few moments of getting stared at by nearby people for walking so damn slow, he finally speaks.

“I work a nine to five in an office as a data manager, but I have to do overtime to make ends meet since I’m still in student debt. I live near the café, so I usually drop my stuff at home, relax for a bit then come back for coffee. There’s a reason I always order coffee though.”

He catches speed. Now walking at the normal pace, he catches up to you. “I just graduated so this is my first job. I’m still used to drinking coffee at late night hours. It helps me sleep.”

“Wait, how old are you?”

“I’m twenty one!”

The smile looks cute on him. Wait, no. Kill that thought! Murder it in cold blood!

“You must’ve graduated early. The normal age for graduates is twenty two or twenty three.”

“I skipped two grades in middle school.”

“Right.”

A few minutes of silence pass till he starts talking again. He asks you about your degree, what courses you’re taking for them and when you’re expected to graduate. When he drops you off at the subway station, you’re quick to thank him, even going as far as to exchange numbers. There’s something about his spontaneity that you find charming. As you enter the train after he’s gone, you can’t help but feel the temperature get slightly warmer than before. Maybe it’s just your imagination.

“Hey there!”

You’re greeted with the voice of a cheerful Childe when you’re mopping the floors. One look at the clock is all it takes for you to grunt in annoyance.

“It’s 10: 54 pm! Ugh, just six more minutes late and I would’ve been able to close.”

“Actually…”

“Mhm?”

The mop in your hand is quickly put back in its stand as he stands there awkwardly scratching the back of his neck. Blue eyes look anywhere but you as he continues with a chuckle.

“I was hoping you could just get me a coffee ready to go. Then I’ll walk you to the station… like yesterday.”

You bite the inside of your cheek. Everything was fine yesterday. If he was a creep or just someone looking for a date, he would’ve texted you by now, but he didn't. It’s not like it’s desolate on the streets either. A man even stopped yesterday when he saw you looking apprehensive. There are always people outside so you guess that it’ll be fine.

“Alright. The usual coffee?”

“Yup!”

Soon you’ve handed the coffee to Childe, double checked the back door lock, put the cleaning equipment back in its place, swiped your ID on the scanner and locked the main door after turning the sign to ‘closed’. There’s the same temperature drop from yesterday but with the breeze that just blew, you’re starting to think it’s the sea breeze blowing.

“Shall we?”

You nod at the question, finding it oddly human to see him drink something as mundane as coffee. Honestly with how dead his eyes look he might as well not be human and you’d believe it.

“You should really try the milkshakes, Childe.”

He chuckles, an amused smile now plastered on his face. “I would but then all that gym would go to waste.”

“Once or twice wouldn’t hurt.”

With his index finger and thumb holding his chin, he feigns a contemplative expression. “I guess so.”

Silence fills the air around you both now. However, it’s gone as quick as it came as Childe fills the conversation with lively chatter and jokes. The walk with him feels very short and you almost look at the station with annoyance for cutting the conversation with him.

Just like last time, you brush off the lack of chill around you when Childe leaves. Maybe you should bring a jacket tomorrow.

Concerned eyes skim over the headline as a shiver runs down your spine. Five men had gone missing in these past two weeks, all of whom were found dead yesterday with their bodies mutilated beyond recognition. What’s worse is that two of those men you recognise as patrons who frequented the shop.

Safe to say, you’re a little scared.

Whatever is happening is only targeting men, so you should be safe. However, that is a big, fat ‘should’ and honestly, you would rather not take any risks. Reading the rest of the article just makes you feel worse. They were found dead in a building just a block away from this café.

It's not like the feeling leaves you in your dorm either. There's this nagging feeling that you aren't alone. For all you care, it could just be the lack of a roommate. Living alone does sometimes make you paranoid.

Your peripheral vision shows movement, and you freeze at the spot. It’s when a familiar voice calls out to you that your muscles relax.

‘It’s just Childe,’ you tell yourself. There’s no need to be so worked up. Despite your best efforts to appear normal, his lifeless eyes don’t miss the way your hands slightly shake when you type out his order or how your laptop displays the article of the missing men.

“Hey, can you get it ready to go? I’ll drink it as I walk you to the station.”

Midterms have ended and winter vacation is in full swing. Unfortunately for you, that also means having to work in full swing instead of visiting your parents. Your eyes skim over the second article of the month about missing men found dead, feeling a little relieved when you get a notification from Childe.

Most of the messages he sends are funny cat videos or random funny animal images from the internet. It’s rare to have a conversation on text since you both see each other everyday, so the both of you settle on sending each other stuff like that.

The bell chimes, signalling that someone had entered the café, and you immediately get up to do your job. Now usually, you would right away go to take their order but looking at the guy who just walked in, you’re tempted to tell him that you’re closed.

First of all, he clearly looks drunk with the way he's wobbling on his feet. Second, his smile is outright creepy. You don’t feel safe even breathing the same air as him.

“Hiya there, cute little coffee maker.”

Gross. You push back any comments, instead trying to do your job. “What can I get for you sir?”

He hums, gruff voice a little too revealing of his age, as his smile widens. With slurred words, he boldly asks for your number, and you mentally gag.

“I’m sorry sir, but I can only give you what’s on the menu. Here,” you push the pamphlet towards him from your side of the counter. “Have a look.”

“Are you on the menu?”

“Only food and drink are available, sir.”

He groans. “You should put yourself there. I’m sure a lot would come running to this café if you were on the menu. I know I would, haha.”

With a sigh, you head for the phone near the employee’s room door. Glancing back at him once, you start dialling the police just to freeze with your finger hardly an inch away from the call button when a voice all too familiar to you calls out at a time earlier than it usually does.

“Hi [Name]!”

Relief washes over you as you turn around, the sight of those dead blue eyes bringing nothing but an assurance of safety. The unwanted customer doesn’t budge, simply staring at you intently with a gaze so dirty not even bleach could cleanse it.

You point to the drunkard standing on the counter. Childe thankfully catches on quickly and makes up a lie about being from the food and drink authority. He says he’s here for a quality check and threatens to arrest the man if he doesn’t leave.

The both of you share a laugh when the man says he’ll be back for the ‘cute little barista’. You’re certain he won’t remember anything after his hangover, so why bother?

That night, when Childe walked you to the station, you shivered the entire way there. Your mind forgot to realise that the additional chill in the air left with him, too busy smiling at the jokes he made.

Starting off the new year with finding out that the drunk man who harassed you is dead isn’t ideal. Plus, saying that you’re scared is an understatement.

You’re absolutely terrified.

Most of the men in these killings have been to this café. Additionally, most of them have talked to you. It honestly feels like a curse or some sick coincidence and it’s scaring you. The dead bodies appear anywhere in the city now, in a random abandoned place or dark alleyways, anywhere.

It's even gotten to the point that going to your dorm feels scary. There's still the nagging feeling of being watched, but no one's there except for you. You even had the security guard check for hidden cameras but there was nothing. Having to always come across articles of those killing sprees just made you stop using social media at your dorm, opting to gather information while at your jobs.

You’re not one to believe in the supernatural but after reading so many articles and looking up resources on it yourself, you’re starting to believe it's some kind of cult. There could be some twisted killer out there, but if there is, why haven’t the police found evidence yet?

They haven’t even found evidence that a human is doing all this, which is very fishy considering that this is the 21st century. They have all the latest technologies at their disposal so not being able to find evidence of those being a human’s doing, it’s food for public controversy.

Factoring in all of that, you’ve already handed in your resignation to the manager and have only three more nights to work till you can officially leave.

You just hope all this stops soon.

Tonight, Childe doesn’t order a coffee, simply giving you a sad smile as he watches you lock the main door. As expected, a cold breeze flows and you rub your hands together to warm up. Childe’s lifeless eyes carefully watch your attempts at battling the temperature drop, a carefree smile back on his face within seconds as he walks you through the empty winter streets.

Two more nights. They aren’t worth it. You would rather lose a paycheck than deal with that. The bell chimed and you heard someone come in and order a black coffee, even glancing at the figure sitting on a table in the corner but not fully looking because you were too busy mopping the employee room.

Guess what? When you’re done with the coffee, no one is there and there’s a note on the counter that says, “Thanks for looking at me. I’ll make sure your eyes stay preserved.”

You don’t recognise the handwriting. Heck, you don’t even know who that was! Now, you’re struggling to lock the main door as tears fill your eyes, hardly getting any air in your lungs as your ears ring.

This has to be a joke.

‘Please God. Please let this be a prank.’

You didn’t even bother to check the time, immediately grabbing your belongings and sprinting out. However, a voice calling your name has you petrified, the ringing in your ears getting louder and louder as the silhouette of a taller man approaches on the lonesome, foggy winter street.

Without even thinking, you drop to the ground, hands covering your ears as you ask God to save you. Salvation comes in the form of said man dropping a heavy coat onto your shoulders as his calloused hand pets your head. You look up, carefully testing the waters. Your eyes widen in relief as more tears spill out at the sight of Childe’s worried gaze.

Before your mind can even notice the change, the red irises become blue as you blink away the tears.

The oversized winter coat covers your form till your knees when you stand up, and you find yourself melting in its warmth and Childe’s embrace as you let out the remnants of your fear.

“Hey hey. It’s okay. You’re safe here. Deep breaths, [Name]. Deep breaths.”

When you’ve finally returned to your senses, you glance at Childe’s black coat, fisting it as you answer his question of what happened.

He soon explains that he saw a teenager run out of the café. The both of you connect the dots and realise that it’s just a sick prank. Maybe your prayer was heard after all. On the way back, you don’t question why it feels colder than it was when you first left the café. You don’t even question why Childe’s teeth look whiter, canines a little too prominent for comfort.

“I’m telling you, [Name]. All the victims are middle aged men. I’m not even 25! I’m safe! Plus, some of them were found to have ties to human trafficking gangs. I’m a respectable member of society so I’m safe.”

You appreciate the sentiment, you really do, but seeing that all the victims are men, you’re worried about Childe. After all, he frequents this café too.

“I’m not convinced. Go home!”

“Nuh uh.”

He crosses his arms with a pout, hair falling into his eyes due to the movement. A hand brushes those strands away and you find yourself somewhat enchanted by the sight. His eyes are beautiful, that much is true, but why do you find yourself unable to look away from his face these days?

“There’s just five minutes left anyway. Why don’t you close early? It wouldn’t make a difference.”

You give in with a sigh.

With a ding, you close up the register, double check the back door’s lock, grab your belongings and swipe your ID. As you lock the main door, you give the café one last look. You had a good time here. Sure, you were alone for the shift, but it was peaceful. Now when classes start again, you won’t have to rush here at night.

The lock clicks into place, and you stuff your hands into your coat pockets. Today, you’re wearing that oversized coat Childe gave you the other day. He said something about a late new year’s gift, but you only accepted it because it’s warm. Totally not because it smells like him.

It’s colder today, you note. Your breath leaves your mouth in puffs, synonymous to the fog, but one glance at Childe in the awkward silence confirms that you’re the only one this cold. The cold and desolate street is empty, save for a few people going about. The streets are always lonelier in winter.

You’re the first to break the silence. “I hope whatever is going on is solved soon.”

“I hope so too.”

“What do you think it is? You know, people have hypothesised that it’s some kind of cult or demon on the loose.”

Childe hums, formulating a reply in his head. “From what I know, there isn’t any evidence of a person doing all this. Maybe the bodies get dumped in those places? That would explain why there’s no signs of the killing.”

“We don’t even have CCTV footage to confirm that they were dumped. They just appear there.”

He doesn’t give a reply and instead slowly creeps his hand towards yours. Upon feeling his finger nudge yours, you welcome the action. Childe’s slender fingers slowly take a hold of your own and now, the two of you hold hands as you walk. A comfortable warmth radiates from his, chasing away the chill from your gloveless fingers.

“Everything will work out,” he reassures you. “I hope you’re not uncomfortable.”

“Not at all.”

A small smile is on your face now, and Childe is absolutely mesmerised by it. He licks his lips at the way he can feel your blood inside the blood vessels of your hand. Just the thought of your heart makes him excited. Oh how he longs to feel your heartbeat through the softness of your chest.

“I think I should tell you this, [Name].”

You blink up at him innocently, slowing down in his lead.

“Well,” he clears his throat, suddenly a little nervous. “My birth name is Ajax. I thought… well, you should know that.”

The nervousness widens your smile and you tenderly brush your thumb across his knuckles.

“It’s a wonderful name. I don’t really know why you didn’t tell me when we first met, but I won’t question it. Is it okay if I start calling you Ajax now?”

He perks up, “Of course!”

You laugh at his sweetness. The two of you continue walking to the station, enjoying the comfortable silence. However, when the station comes into view, you feel something sharp press on the backside of the palm Ajax is holding. You give your held together hands a questioning look just to see nothing. It was probably your imagination.

With how he told you his real name yesterday, you were kind of expecting this. Apparently, he didn’t do overtime today and is practically begging you to come meet him for dinner. You don’t think you’re comfortable with having dinner with him yet. What if he doesn’t like the way you eat? Or worse… it gets so awkward that he regrets bringing you out?

After much pleading, he settles for taking you out for hot chocolate from downtown. The both of you decided to meet up at the station, but you found him already there when you got off. As the two of you exit out to the street, you can’t help but find it colder than it was outside your dorm building. Ajax shrugs off the concern saying that it’s more open out here, thus the heavy fog as well. You don’t dwell on it.

When you both enter the shop, you’re instantly hit with the smell of warm coco.

“Here.” Ajax passes you a menu as you sit down. “You can get anything. It’s on me,” he smiles.

“Okay first of all, you’re too darn sweet for your own good. Second, I can pay for myself thank you very much!”

An offended look appears on Ajax’s face. “Absolutely not! As your mate, it is my responsibility to take care of you and pay for you. What good am I if I can’t do that?”

You sputter out a laugh, finding his declaration to be funny. “Mate? What’re you, Australian?”

Ajax pales at the word being pointed out, but soon relaxes when you continue laughing.

“How about this Ajax, You can pay but for only this time! Next time, I’ll pay for myself.”

He grumbles out a ‘fine’, even protesting when you order a simple hot cocoa which was followed by you making fun of him for ordering coffee again. The evening goes well, and the two of you later wander around the city aimlessly in the foggy winter night.

That is when Ajax asks you a peculiar question.

“Have you ever heard of the name ‘Tartaglia’?”

You stop in your tracks, looking to your right to see him staring at you with an emotionless gaze.

“I can’t say I have. Why do you ask?”

“No reason.”

You wait for him to change his mind, but he just resumes walking. Grabbing his coat from the back, you make him stop. “Hey! Don’t leave me curious! Is it something important?”

He simply ruffles his hair, closing one eye as he pouts childishly. “It’s nothing important, just something I found in the library. But if you want to see, you’ll have to stop by my place.”

Honestly, he looks so cute right now you could explode.

“Fine,” you agree. You’ve known him for so long. Stopping by his place for a little while should be fine. Plus, it’s been almost a week since those gruesome killings last popped up. You’re not scared anymore, especially since the feeling of being watched inside your dorm room has also disappeared. There's no reason to be scared, not when you have someone as sweet as Ajax.

The two of you waddle around without a purpose for a while longer till you decide to drop by his apartment for a little while. You honestly didn’t know what you were expecting. It looks like a normal apartment. A tidy open kitchen, a somewhat messy living room with a little balcony, a bathroom right next to the little storeroom and a bedroom.

You leave your - more like Ajax’s - coat hanging on the coat rack and awkwardly sit on a sofa in the living room. After denying a glass of water, you follow Ajax to the entrance of his bedroom as he goes to fetch a book. You can see him rummaging inside his closet from where you're standing.

“The name I asked you about was in this book I found in the library. It’s related to some kind of cult and- ah, where did I put it.”

Awkwardly shifting your weight from one foot to the other, you meekly ask him if he accidentally misplaced it. Ajax replies with a simple shrug and walks past you to the living room. A photo on his nightstand catches your attention but before you can figure out what it is, you’re pushed inside the room.

“Hey! Come on,” you grumble, “I was standing there.”

Looking behind only causes dread to settle in your stomach. Ajax stands in front of the now closed bedroom door. The hand behind his back clicks the lock into place and the lights are suddenly turned off.

“Ajax…?”

He doesn’t move.

“Hey, come on. This isn’t funny.”

Your voice comes out a lot shakier than you would like, the darkness simply scaring you more. By the time your eyes adjust to the scarce moonlight from the window, the silhouette in front of the door is already reaching for you.

With one simple push of his hand, you stumble backwards and fall onto the bed inelegantly. Before you can cry out, two calloused hands pin your wrists to the mattress, and your thrashing legs are subdued by his knees.

“Ajax, what’s going on!?”

Your answer comes in the form of him leaning down, the moonlight falling onto his eyes to show that they’re red, not blue. Nails that are sharp and pointy like claws dig into your wrists and you hear yourself crying out in pain.

“Please,” you exclaim. “What’s gotten into you!”

When Ajax opens his mouth, you notice that his canines are a little too visible to be human while his teeth unnaturally sparkle under the little lighting.

“I’m simply tired of playing nice.”

“Let me go! What have I ever… huh?”

You tense when you feel him lick a stripe up your neck right where your carotid artery is and lick one down where your jugular vein would be. As he stays above you, his mouth moves to your visible collarbone, nose burying itself in the skin as he takes in your scent.

You’re too scared to move, afraid that even the slightest movement would cause those claws to tear into your skin.

“You smell so nice. I suppose it was a wise decision on my part to give you my jacket. Having my scent on you should be a good repellant.”

Nothing makes sense to you. Why in the world is Ajax holding you down on the bed, and why the hell does he keep smelling you? Is he even human?

“I notice you’ve stopped struggling,” he points out. He sits on your thighs now, hands resting on your stomach, but you can’t move your arms. They feel like they’re held together by something. “That's good actually. You should save your strength considering that you have a lot of screaming to do later.”

The tone of his voice sends a shiver down your spine, and you can’t help it when a few tears escape your eyes. Ajax is quick to lick them away while you lay absolutely petrified underneath him. Next, he grabs your face tenderly, leaning in so much that your breaths intermingle.

With the way the moonlight falls on his scarlet eyes, you can’t look away. Auburn eyelashes frame those crimson hues as a twinge of blue bleeds into them all the while the messy hair is accentuating the chaos that swirls within.

“Please,” you manage to choke out. “Don’t hurt me. You don’t have to do this, Ajax.”

The ginger hovering above you frowns at your pleading. He can smell the fear in your breath, and he’s a little proud of it but also a bit offended.

“You wound me, [Name]. You’re my mate. I could never hurt you, promise! Okay, maybe I would if you misbehave but that’s besides the point.”

His lips now brush your ear as he licks a stripe behind your earlobe, creating more shivers in your body. “After all, you’re a good little thing. I know you wouldn’t dare disobey.”

You try pleading with him once more. “I swear on my life Ajax. If… if you let me go, I won’t tell anyone about this. Please.”

He’s back to sitting on your thighs now, a thoughtful expression on his face. Something seems to click because instead of giving a reply, he’s drawing blood from his right index finger with his other hand using nails that clearly look like claws. Ajax’s left hand taps on your lips, the amused hum that bubbles from his throat completely filling the silence.

“Open up~”

You refuse, even going as far as becoming even more tightlipped. The reaction angers him, for he grabs your face and pries his thumb into your mouth. Thrashing your legs doesn’t do anything either because he’s too damn heavy.

“[Name], my dear. I would suggest being good and opening up before you end up like those men on the news.”

Wait… what?

“Aw, why are you crying? Don’t believe me? Do you want a demonstration?”

“You’re awful!” You’re sobbing now as he stares down at you. “How could you do such a- mph!”

Ajax takes the chance and stuffs the finger into your mouth. If the timing couldn’t be more inconvenient, your gag reflex starts acting up because of how deep he shoved it in. He calmly instructs you to obediently swallow while he presses the bleeding finger down on your tongue.

The most you taste is your own saliva but it’s followed by a very unpleasant fuzziness in your head. You feel like you’re floating on a cloud, mind foggy and breathing heavy as a pleasurable tingle travels from your spine to every cell of your body. A sharp sting on your left hand’s ring finger is what brings you back after a few moments.

Ajax brings the bleeding finger to your line of sight which confirms that your hands are free. However, you can’t move them. You can’t move anything. Your entire body feels numb.

Any blood that trickles from the wound is licked up by him. By the time it stops bleeding, a bite mark is prominent, one in the shape of a ring.

“A blood bond is more romantic, don’t you think?”

You will yourself to speak but your tongue feels like lead in your mouth.

“Don’t worry. It’ll only last for a few moments. It’s a good way to temporarily subdue misbehaving humans like you, right?”

You try your best to glare at him, but all that you’re able to manage is a half-angry stare.

“Scary~ You do realise you’re glaring at me? Oh wait, I never told you who I am.”

“I’m guessing that you’re not human,” you whisper.

The red eyed fiend sitting on top of you smirks at your words. “Took you long enough. You were so wary of me, yet you never questioned the obvious. I’ll give you a hint. I’m kind of a bad guy but not entirely ‘evil’ if that’s any consolation. I only took care of all those men because I didn’t like them being around you for even a second.”

He manoeuvres your body to sit you up in front of the headboard. Now, you start feeling like you’re in control, but the feeling doesn’t help because he simply binds your wrists again.

“For our first date, why don’t we play a game?”

You grumble at that. “What do you want from me?”

“I’ll answer your questions later,” he waves off. “Let’s play a game of getting to know me better! First question. What do you think I am? The hint is that I can control water and that my name is Tartaglia. I also have a liking for pretty things like you. Give me the right answer, and I ask another question. Wrong answer, and I test just how good that gag reflex of yours is.”

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allmyloveandyours · 1 year

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Astrology Observations #1!!!!

These are all opinions! Take what resonates! Also I'm not a professional, correct me if I got something wrong if necessary idk this my first try

It's been said before, but the Leo + Libra combination is incredible. The planets/placements can tell what they succeed at the best. (Example: Leo Sun - personality, general shine and personality, with Libra Rising - stylish, pretty, youthful, graceful, makes someone who garners a lot of attention naturally)

I've seen 8th House Saturn manifest as actively (I guess rather than lack of trying maybe idk) waiting to get close to people in an intimate relationship. They may not even like the implication they've done anything intimate with their partner. Once they're lock in with their person, they get pretty private. Depending on the sign, they also get very sappy.

Another Saturn note: While it rules over restrictions, delays, and the father, it also rules over tradition. Whenever it is in your chart you may also more of a "transitional" (or whatever traditional means to them) opinion of/take a traditional role in. Saturn's in 5th house Gemini for me, and when it comes to art/hobbies/acting and I was VERY against digital or CGI/not doing everything by hand/not cutting corners. And the want to have twins is STRONG + the 50s aesthetic dresses and style is very appealing.

Taurus in your chart can tell you where you're the most stubborn (I know this is obvious), and it also maybe tell where you're the most simple or easy to understand. I've noticed a lot of people saying earth Mercuries are boring to talk to or dry, but I've noticed that's just Taurus Mercuries. Which isn't bad at all, but they're very to the point, but not in a bad way. A good example is Taurus Sun in 4th house. Probably the most down to earth placement possible. Chill personality, comfortable home/likes to create a good home environment.

Sun conjunct Mercury are so easy to spot. Something how the way they talk just sticks, or they have an extremely distinct way of talking. My close friend who has it in Pisces 7th house strictly talks in metaphors, and is gets the worse the closer you get to him. Whatever the sun sign is is kinda the flavor of how you talk. (Maybe Virgo would be more descriptive/thought out, Aries would be more loud/impulsive etc)

Scorpio stelliums are the easiest to notice imo. When talking 1 on 1, they kinda trigger wherever Scorpio is on your house. My aunt has a stellium with Mercury, Venus, and Mars, and every time time we talk I get the motivation to take care of my public persona/career since Scorpio is my Midheaven.

Venus conjunct Mercury is chefs kiss when it comes to your voice. Whatever house it's in can rule what kinda vibes you have within style of speaking (like 2nd house could sound expensive, may have a talent for singing, 11th is very motivational, would get most of the attention when talking in groups). You could also be good at being vocal about things you love along with having a nice voice. Any writing would also be very beautiful.

Chiron opposite anything can point to something that can hinder healing if you don't think it though. Since (in my opinion) opposite creates tension but the planets can work together, rushing results ends up with the planets/asteroids clashing. An example can be Chiron opposite Saturn: healing would require cutting no corners, hard work, and stability or a routine, but you could have the feeling of acting on impulse, or shaking off a routine that's actually good for you, or even ignoring an authority that could be good for you (Especially if that Chiron is in Capricorn).

Saturn in Cancer individuals may have issues with taking up emotional space. They're the type of people to talk about how bad their day was for 4.5 seconds then apologize. I've never heard someone apologize for even complaining more than them. A lesson they may need to learn is how to be angry. Also they may need a nicer partner.

I've seen degree theories on how the degrees of Pluto can tell when/where you had your tower moment (like the tarot card: a time of the tower falling/everything kinda crumbles), and I gotta say most have been pretty accurate. I have a friend who has their Pluto in 5th house in the 16th degree and that's when they had their first experience with distrust in romantic partners. Mines in 11th house in the 14° degree and that's when I realized all of my friends at the time were bad.

Mars in Leo do really well on social media, especially when they have complete control over their projects. They may also have trouble giving up control to others and can become workaholics if there's heavy earth placements paired with it. (Markiplier is a good example with his Taurus Moon, Leo Mars, and Capricorn stellium)

Ok that's it for now. Let me know if I should do more, and any opinions you may have (please be NICE I'm not GOOD AT THIS) and also have a good day/afternoon/night :D

#astrology #astro notes #astrology observations #astrology aspects #saturn in 8th house #mars in leo #pluto #saturn in cancer #chiron #venus conjunct mercury #scorpio #sun conjunct mercury #taurus #leo sun #libra rising #markiplier #i cant not tag him its funny to me whenever i think about it #helloeverybodymynameismarkiplierandwelcometofivenightsatfreddys

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xzhdjsj · 1 month

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Ropes or Cuffs?

Kayson x Reader

Kayson + tied up

warning: NSFW!!!!

Bottom Kayson for my soul🙌😋 This is my second time writing a fully nsfw fic, so I'm sorry if this is disappointing😭

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

It was a good day. A good to indulge in some mischief. A bit of tomfoolery. A smidge of misbehaviour and naughtiness.

Kayson sat across from you, scrolling through his phone, taking a sip of his tea every so often. His fingers are snugly wrapped around the cup's handle, they're so slender and pretty. They blend into the most perfect pair of hands. The very hands that’s able to touch your soul and make you feel ways you've never felt before. The very hands that make you sing out in pleasure every time he holds you. You're consciously staring, shamelessly staring. It makes you wonder, how would things go if he was powerless and without those hands?

"Kay?"

"Hmm?"

"Ropes or cuffs?"

He nearly spat out his tea, coughing violently at your question.

"Shit Kayson! You okay?" You rush to his side, taking the cup from his hand and patting his back

"I'm fine. I'm fine." He coughs again before continuing. "Just, heh I really wasn't expecting that"

"I guess it did kind of come out of nowhere. I was a little distracted by my own thoughts, sorry."

"Your thoughts huh?" He grins mischievously, setting his phone aside. "Honestly, I don't think I have a preference. Like, you look great tied with ropes or in handcuffs. As long as it doesn't hurt you, I'm down."

"Okay okay take this back a bit babe, I know you're down bad, but I meant on you."

"Oh oh-" His smug expression faltered, replaced by wide-eyed surprise when he processed exactly what you meant. "You want to tie me up?"

"I was thinking about it, but only if you want to."

"Well, I wasn't expecting that." The blush crept up his cheeks, but he smiles again. "I'd like to try that too actually. I don't know what I prefer though. I'd still leave it up to you to decide."

His answer alone had your bones tingling as you approached him again, dragging a finger along his jawline so he's looking up at you. "Wanna see which one I choose?"

This was something straight out of a fantasy. Something out of your wildest imagination.

"Is that too tight?" You ask.

He's lying below you, completely bare, with a blanket pulled across his stomach and lower half. His hands are caught in yours over his head, where you lock them in palace between the hoops of a silk lined metal handcuff attached to the headboard of your bed.

"No. When did you even get these?"

"A while ago, though I didn't think I'd be using them on you." The handcuffs click for the last time securing his hands into place. "All done!"

A shiver runs down his body when you're seated back down next to him. He's already half hard, the arousal steadily coursing through his veins. His growing erection was apparent through the blanket, an easy target for your impish fingers. You lean down to kiss him while your hand rubs over his crotch through the blanket. He sighs into the kiss, biting the corner of your lip when you press down harder.

When you pull away, you waste no time pulling the covers off him, exposing his cock to your lustful gaze. It takes you a minute to fully take in the scene before you, he looks so fucking pretty. Everything about him is just so pretty.

You snatch the bottle of lube from beside you, squeezing a glob onto your palm and spreading it to coat your fingers.

He hisses when your hand finally wraps around his cock, inhaling sharply as his breathe hitched. You look up at him, his forehead is creased and eyebrows knitted. When his eyes slowly reopen, he's staring right into yours.

"Cold, it was cold." He laughs.

Good thing your hands were warm, and so was his body. It didn’t take long for the lube itself to lose its coolness as well.

You've never been in such a position with Kayson, sure you've given him handjobs before but he always had some sort of power during the act, whether it was his voice or hands. Right now, however, he was completely at your mercy, vulnerable and detained under your touch and gaze. It was truly sight to behold.

Your hands moved slowly at first, working up a pace as his heart rate picked up.

"Ah just like that." A low guttural moan leaves his throat.

Up and down, your hand traced every ridge and every vein. He squirmed under your touch, low moans escaping his lips like honey dripping from a rose.

"You look so beautiful right now." You confess, catching his lips onto yours in a passionate kiss.

You hand slowed down, wrapped around his tip where your thumb rubs small, gentle circles around the top. His lips part from yours reflexively, gasping at the new sensation. You aren't bothered by it, kissing a path down his cheek to his jaw then his neck. Not only was he pretty, but god did he taste good. A heavenly combination that makes you want more and more of him.

You go back to working your hand up and down his shaft, occasionally running your thumb over the blushed tip. Your lips lingered around his neck, kissing his skin softly before adorning it in dark red marks. By now, he's more vocal, moaning, and grunting loudly each time you stroke him.

"Fuck I'm so close baby." He whispers between moans.

His hips could no longer stay still, thrusting upwards to meet you awaiting hand. His body twitched and you knew he was close, unfortunately for him, you haven't had enough just yet. When you slow down and pull your hands away from him, he lets you know how disappointed he is with a desperate cry.

"Why'd you stop baby? Please I was so close!" He whines.

"I know, that’s why I stopped."

You leaned back onto your palm, supporting your weight on the mattress, admiring his dishevelled state, his laboured breathes, lust filled eyes and a desperate expression that makes you want to toy with him even more.

"Come on baby, quit staring! I need you."

You don’t even bother to answer him, pulling your shirt over your head. He watches in awe as you pull your underwear to the side, ghosting your fingers along your exposed self.

"Oh you're so fucking evil for this" He fakes a laugh before demanding, "At least uncuff me!"

He pulls at the handcuffs, but at most, all he achieved was a creaking sound from the bed frame. You're wearing that mischievous smile on your face, the one he usually has when he's in a playful mood. He watched as you pleasure yourself, head thrown back and huffs of his name, leaving your lips. When you catch the look in his eyes, silently pleading with you to give him what he wants, you decide to mess with him even more. You bend forward, using your free hand to tickle your way up his thighs and ghost your fingers over his shaft.

"Fuck, just put it inside already!" His voice full of desperation and need as he lifts his head to look at your fingers gently running down the side of his cock. His hips buck upwards, into your touch.

"I'll think about it." You retract your hand, placing a finger against your bottom lip, pretending to think. "Hmmmmmm, nope! But I do have a better idea."

He whines at your response, his head dropping hard onto the pillow below him.

He doesn't fight back, not with his words, at least. Instead, he yanks at the cold metal around his wrist furiously.

He's too busy pulling at the chains that link his hands together, he doesn't even notice when you strip off your last piece of clothes. But when your legs part to accommodate his hip between them and you lower yourself, his attention is all on you again. He loved the way you felt on him, but this wasn’t what he wanted at all. He pulls at the headboard, and it creaks again, his head thrown all the way back as a languish whine falls from his lips. The length of his cock is pressed right up against you, you could very well adjust yourself so he’d be able to slide inside but where's the fun in that?

"Fucking hell you're gonna be the death of me." He croaks between erratic breaths.

"Did you prefer my hands over this? I could get of-"

"No!" He shouts. "No please don't. Just- just move please"

"I didn't quite get that last bit baby, mind repeating for me?"

"I said please move. I want you to move, I need you to move please!" He sounds tortured, the pitch of his voice increasing as he begs.

You place a hand on his cheek, catching the tear that slips past his lashes. "So cute, and such a good boy for me."

You focus on your hips, dragging yourself along the length of his shaft, slowly. Too slow apparently, because it draws a loud grunt from him, though that doesn't stop you. You keep the same pace moving all the way to his tip then all the way back down where his balls greet your ass. It wasn't just pleasure for him, each time you grind against him, his length stimulates your own needs and sensitive spots.

You can't control the way your body reacts, matching his unsteady breathing pattern and his grunts with soft, blissful moans.

It feels even better when his hips jerk upwards to meet yours, send a zap of electricity right up your spine.

You're supposed to be having your way with him, but the way he begs you to move, the strained pleas and desperate whines, it was easy to get lost in the feeling, and before you knew it you were desperately rutting yourself against him.

His voice only gets louder, "Please please please, faster please!" He pleads.

He's still desperately tugging at the handcuffs, surely by now he's left a noticeable mark on the wooden headboard where the metal wore away its surface.

When you finally had enough of just rubbing yourself against him, you finally lift your hip, aligning his tip between your legs. Slowly, you descend, savouring the feeling of being stretched to take him. His eyes are glued to your body, groaning loudly at the feeling he's been waiting for so damn long.

When you've finally taken him all the way in, you lift your hips to do it all over again in the same antagonisingly slow action.

Maybe that's what did it, what finally was the last straw for him. You flinch at the sudden noise metal snapping, but before you could find its origin, strong hands grip onto your thighs, pulling you down onto him. You're caught by surprise, choking on a moan that is matched with a satisfied one of his own.

You were into some real trouble now.

#zsakuva #sakuverse #asmr #kayson #kayson mayer #zsakuva kayson #kayson x reader

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woso-fan13 · 9 months

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Sicktember 2023: 9

White Coat Syndrome

“Y/L/N,” Dawn shouts across the locker room, “my office, now.”

“Oooh,” your teammates say sing-songily together, “Y/N’s in trouble.”

It’s like you're instantly transported back to primary school, the principal calling your name over the loudspeaker. Without a doubt, your peers would tease in the exact same way. The only real difference is that your teammates are adults and should definitely know better than second graders. The punishment would almost definitely be the same too- missing out on recess is pretty much the same as missing practices and games.

With a hot blush across your cheeks, you quickly head to Dawn’s office. You knew better than to keep her waiting. You knock lightly, waiting for a response before you enter.

“Hey, Dawn, how are you? You look great, you’re absolutely glowing. Are you using a new skincare routine, you’ll have to tell me your sec-“

Dawn cuts you off by clearing her throat.

“Hello, Y/N, it’s been awhile since we’ve had some good one-on-one bonding. I was thinking we could play a game,” Dawn says, surprisingly meeting your energy and excitement.

“Ummm,” you hesitate, confused, before sitting down and nodding, “okay, yeah! It’ll be fun! Which one do you think?”

“How about 20 questions? It’s one of my favorites.”

You know Dawn must have an ulterior motive, but you can’t figure it out.

“I know that one, I’ll start. Dawn, what’s your favorite color?”

“I like light blue. Y/N, who was your soccer idol growing up?”

“Oh, that’s easy: Mia Hamm. If you played on the team, what position would you play?”

“Probably goalie, less risk of an ACL injury. How about this, if you could be any member of the staff, who would you be?”

“Coach, I love all of the tactics behind it. Oh, it’s hard to think of questions. Umm, what’s your favorite drink?”

“Water,” she answers bluntly, “do you think I’m an idiot?”

“What?” you respond, about to continue when she interrupts.

“Y/N, you’re supposed to answer the question before you ask one. So, again, do you think I’m an idiot?”

“No, no of course not. What are you talking about?”

“Well, I’m not sure if you remember, but you missed camp two months ago because you had covid. And you missed camp last month because you developed asthma from covid and you had to go to the emergency room multiple times. So, my next question, did you think I would forget that you’re required to have a full work up from a pulmonologist before you’re allowed to train or were you simply hoping to avoid me?”

You freeze, eyes wide. You knew that you were supposed to see the doctor, but the doctor scared you. The only reason that you had even gone to the emergency rooms those times was because you couldn’t breathe and one of your teammates had to drag your blue-lipped form in.

So you put off the appointment, hoping that everyone would ignore your lack of medical approval if you played really well. Besides, you had brought the emergency inhaler that you had gotten at your most recent emergency visit, so you would be fine.

Dawn sighs, “go get your bag, you’ve got an appointment in 30 minutes. If you get the all-clear, you can practice tomorrow.”

You know better than to protest, going to grab all of your things. You stop for a moment and watch your teammates warming up, jealousy filling your body.

You walk back towards Dawn’s office, expecting her to pass off car keys and directions. Instead, you find her standing with her bag, keys in hand.

“Are you ready to go?” She asks.

“You’re coming with me?” You question, “I thought you would have to stay for practice.”

“I thought you would like the company, but I could be wrong. I guess I’ll go back to practice and you can go alone.”

It was almost comical the way your face instantly paled, the blood draining. Your hand reached out automatically, trying to stop her from leaving.

“Please, no” you say quietly.

“Alright, come on then. We have to go.”

You quickly follow Dawn as she begins heading towards the exit, afraid that you would be left alone. You couldn’t decide which was a worse option- having to go to the doctor alone or never being able to play soccer again.

#uswnt players #uswnt x reader #womens soccer #uswnt woso #woso imagines #woso #reader insert #uswnt imagine #woso imagine #woso x reader #uswntsoccer #uswnt fanfic #woso fanfics #uswnt imagines #uswnt reader

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peachsayshi · 10 months

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➳ minors / ageless / blank blogs dni - this blog is 20+ for follow

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ you're going for the night, but you’re running late so you ask them if they can you help you with your outfit {nsfw-ish / mostly suggestive}

gojo uses it as excuse to roam those long, lithe fingers along your body, sliding them underneath the fabric of your dress from behind you, and pressing his palms along the slope of your ribs as he leans forward to leave kisses on your spine. you feel his hands move to cup your breasts, practically feel his pout from his inability to fondle you at his pleasure since your own hands are pressed to your chest to keep your outfit in place. he always loses himself, trailing one hand further down to tease the band of your underwear which causes you to murmur "toru, I need you to zip my dress, please..." in protest so he can focus on the task at hand. he pouts, and sighs into your skin as he pulls away to find the zipper and cinches you into your pretty dress for the evening.

geto has an expression that’s unreadable; a hard lump forms in your throat as you watch him fiddle with the zipper caught in your skirt. it’s so easy to feel self conscious by that gaze, one that penetrates your bones and pries open the seams of your heart. you are quick to escape his grasp once he rectifies your little problem, but his reflexes are near impossible to defeat. he twirls you around to face him, so you can feel the heat of eyes dark eyes singe your cheeks as he smiles gently in your direction. with one hand on your lower back, he arches you closer to his body, ensuring that you can feel his thoughts regarding your outfit as he presses you against the bulge in his jeans. he’s still holding that composed smile, contrasting everything else in the moment, and sweetly compliments: "you look really cute"

nanami is a great help. he knows your routines by heart at this point. he steps into the room, leans his broad frame against the bedroom door as he watches you pirouette in a frenzy. he smiles quietly to himself before asking, “what’s wrong, my love?” and the answer comes with you asking him to assist you with your corset top. he stands behind you and works with the strings, tugging and adjusting while checking if you’re comfortable in between. your cheeks burn when you think about why he’s so fast at tying these knots, completely unaware of just how much he is salivating looking at you. he molds your back to his chest, kisses the top of your head and smirks at the reflection in mirror before requesting that you make sure to keep him udpated on your evening.

choso blushes from how good you look. he can’t get over how pretty his girlfriend is, can’t wrap his mind around the extent to how deep his attraction for you goes. you snap him out of his slightly dumbstruck expression when you ask if he can pull out your favorite pair of black heels from the closet. he picks up the platforms carefully, watching as you plop onto the bed and reach for the shoes in his hands. choso simply crouches on his knee before you and picks up your ankle as he carefully slips it into the shoe. he adjusts the strap, his feather light touches sending shivers up your leg as he repeats the same action on the other side. one he’s done, he wraps his hands around your ankles, his thumbs softly stroking your skin as he looks up at you with the most tender eyes. “think you’ll be comfortable in these all night?” he asks with slight concern, and your heart swells from his sweet consideration.

#I couldn't think of one for toji and sukuna :ccc #let me know if you have a suggestion lol #jjk hcs #jjk headcanons #gojo x reader #gojo hcs #geto x reader #geto hcs #nanami x reader #nanami hcs

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a-world-with0ut-dr34ms · 1 year

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John Price x Reader

Wounded, bloody, and just the two of you. A mission gone wrong leads to a long overdue moment between both you and your Captain, perhaps too late to count for anything. Not if either of you two can help it at least.

Part One of Two (Possibly Three Part short story).

EDIT* I went back and proofread this again and fixed errors. I didn't realize I posted this in such a crummy state before, I'm sorry!

TW//: Blood, Violence

Angst, Drama, Action, Romance, Near Death Experiences, Confessions, slightly Dark, some Fluffy Dialogue (not a ton though), Tension, slight Suspense, slight Slow Burn, For the girlies who like when their romantic moments feel a little teased and earned, Though this might still be boring garbage, plus the real stuff doesn't start 'til part two. The "developing feelings through almost dying in front of each other" trope, my favorite trope lowkey

This was not the smut piece I have been planning to write for Price (That's still coming), I wanted to practice writing him a little and this sprung on me after playing MW 2019. Figured I'd post it, though this is just to indulge my growing obsession with this man. Let me know if he's OOC, I want to write him well! Enjoy!

Part Two | Part Three

Price's voice suddenly shouts out from the living room, frantic and wired...

"Ambush! Get behind cover!"

...However, his warnings are drowned out by the whistling of an RPG heading straight for your location. It cuts through the evening sky, coming to you as a black dot zipping by at the blink of an eye.

The rocket breaks through the window of the house you and Price had been tasked to raid for intel, as the explosion goes off against one of the walls behind you. The sound which follows is unlike any you've ever heard the likes of before. A piercing, defeaning pop; the loudest and most unpleasant thing imaginable.

The sharp, crashing boom it erupts around you is hot like fire, singing your uniform and blasting you forward. It's the last thing you remember, before being greeted into a world of swirling blacks and oranges. In pain and completely immobile. Momentarily knocked unconscious.

You're not so sure how much time passes before you come to again. Only a handful of minutes or so. Though in that span, you've listened to the sounds of growing gunfire and shouting rise like a terrifying mob outside. Coming in and out in hot flashes.

Had your Captain's shouting not broken through this foggy barrier, you would have thought you'd have just died. You wouldn't be so lucky.

"Lieutenant!" you hear him call out. His voice grows more desperate the longer he hasn't heard from you. "I'm comin'!"

As the dust began to settle, you felt yourself coming back. You groan in pain, your entire body sore from the blast. Brick and stone rubble surround you like a straightjacket. You're pretty sure the entire roof of the house had fallen on top of you just now. Beneath it all, it was hard to tell for certain.

As you lie trapped, waiting to be rescued, you couldn't help but think about the mission. You and Price should have known this was some sort of setup.

Even Laswell had doubts this lead on Makarov wasn't just some trap to lure out their rivals and take them out, but with this recent dry spell on the investigation, your team couldn't afford to pass up the chance at some potentially valuable leads. It's why Laswell kept the team small, sending only you two on this one.

An easy enough operation: infiltrate the building, gather the intel, and get out. Nothing new. Only all you've found in this rinky-dink building on the outskirts of Urzikstan was a handful of AQ remnants and their new Russian PMC allies. And they knew you two were coming too.

The marked house was empty, both of any life and intel. And not even a second later were they all on top of your location, every inch of this town and the hills that surrounded it dug in with hostiles.

You'd have to ask Price later how it was he was able to push back that hoard alone, if you can make it out of this. There's no telling what they'd do to you both if they caught you in here, and that's if they even take you in alive.

You feel bits of rubble being shifted off your body, immense amounts of pressure releasing upon their departure. It's quickly replaced by the sharp bruising and pain it's left in its wake beneath your uniform.

"I'm right here," you hear Price's voice try to soothe you from up above, that gruff Liverpool accent of his clear enough even through the strain and stress. He hasn't let you down a day since you've known him. He wasn't about to make today his first.

Another large bit of rubble gets removed, taking the darkness away and flooding light down from above.

You could have sworn you were looking at an angel when you finally made out the silhouette of the man rescuing you. Your Captain. John Price.

"I've got you," Price assures you, his words felt wracked with adrenaline, hands moving near on impulse.

His hat was gone, short brown hair in a light tussle, and dust and light soot coating the black of his uniform and scruff of his beard. It almost worried you not to see him in it; he never parts from that thing. Perhaps during the blast it had gotten caught in the crossfires and rendered unwearable.

For some reason, it only made the situation feel much more worse than you originally thought.

His blue eyes find yours beneath the rubble, and you watch all the dread he'd been juggling with subside into relief the second he hears you cough out all the dust and wall you'd inhaled, struggling to catch your breath. He sighs to himself with a smile.

He doesn't even hear the words when he says them. Price only says the first thing that came to mind the minute you've finally stopped coughing to see him again.

"Thank fuckin' Christ."

Once Price saw you weren't dead, he finished removing the rubble from off of you. It's the bit he removes from your right arm that finally pulls a pained cry out of you. It's so intense it's as though reality just now set back in for you.

Your entire right arm felt numb from the elbow down, your fingers no longer feeling attached to your body. Had you not held your breath and sucked up the courage to look (with your peripherals first), you would have thought you'd lost your arm in the explosion.

Though it didn't make it any less broken and fucked. Nor did it make it any easier to not become fearful of what this could mean for you.

The Captain immediately notices the condition of your arm once he's cleared the debris off you. Cursing under his breath, Price helps you to your feet, brushing as much dirt from you as he can.

"You broken?" he asks. "Apart from the arm?"

You feel for what weapons still remained attached to your body after the blast, finding just a slender knife and your holstered pistol. Only two clips though. Of course.

Your arm and entire backside ached something fierce, and your brain felt as though it had been rattled inside your head and then some. If you shut your eyes now, you feared fainting dead away, and the ringing in your ears has yet to subside.

But your current state would have to do. It's that or die here. You knew that, and Price knew that too.

"I'm still here, Captain."

Price smiles, his gaze softening for just the slightest second. Happy to see his training and advice being taken seriously.

It just now was beginning to dawn on him that you hadn't died in here with him either. Seeing you OK and still ready to fight felt fuel enough for the Captain to keep going.

"That you are," he says.

Price parts from you to take post back by the freshly made hole in the wall, readying his rifle. Most of the building had collapsed in on itself, with the exception of the back of the house still being mostly intact.

Outside you could see the mountain of bodies Price had no doubt created while you were buried. None made it too close to where your position was.

With the coast temporarily clear, the current objective at hand remained the same: Get to the Evac Zone stat and get the hell out of dodge.

"This building's gonna be surrounded by Russians and AQ in less than a minute if we don't bug out now," Price warns. "And there'll be more where that came from, so ready yourself for a fight."

"Price..."

The Captain looks back at you, hearing the sudden dread in your voice. It takes him having to have stepped away from you to finally see that something really was up.

Your eyes look down to his waist, where you see the blood beginning to pool at his hip, staining his clothing and growing larger by the minute. It's clear he'd used what he could to try and wrap it, though it hadn't been enough. The adrenaline must have taken his mind away from it.

It figures you weren't the only one who got wounded here.

You look back up at Price, worried. Quiet.

Price looks down at his wound, placing a hand against it and seeing the warm, wet liquid coat his tattered glove. Whether it be a front or really only a flesh wound, Price doesn't dare break composure in front of you. You both would need him clearheaded.

"It's nothin' fatal," he simply tells you.

You knew Price wouldn't make a big deal about his injury, even if it were serious, which you honestly could not tell from where you were standing. You also knew Price wouldn't want you to worry about it either. He never liked when you worried for him; that's his job.

The time dwindled all the same; you can worry about it when you both get home.

You look to Price with contentment. You wouldn't be another reason for his worries if you could help it. "It'll make a good story for the boys later."

Price smiles back at you. "You'll tell it better than me, I'm sure."

The growing sound of men shouting and vehicles rushing to flank your position makes your blood run cold. If you didn't leave soon, neither of you would make it out of this to tell your stories.

You try and get that adrenaline you felt before to spike back up, knowing this was a matter of life and death now. Though your body betrayed you.

Your heart won't stop racing, no matter how much you try and calm yourself. Your hands keep shaking, and you can't help but keep checking the recently blasted hole behind you and your Captain. Soon to be flooded with enemies. Afraid.

Price must have noticed your worrying, because he steps away from his position and does something completely outside of himself suddenly. Though as he did so, it couldn't have felt more natural of a thing to do. Like a gesture he's spent his whole life waiting to give you.

He rests his hand gently on your cheek, bringing your eyes forward so you could see nothing beyond his own gaze. This close, even as night falls over the town and darkness shrouds the remains of this little house, this felt the clearest you've ever looked upon your Captain.

There's a glint of determination in his eyes, all the years of experiences that have worn and torn him the older he has gotten, defining the finer parts of his features. His expression always softened at the sight of you, an act you alone pulled from him for the first time truly, now.

Price was here with you. At that moment, it was the only thing that mattered.

"Hey," his thumb caresses your cheek, his jaw clenching to keep from wincing at the pain in his abdomen. "We're alive. Let's keep it that way, yeah? I'm not leavin' here without you."

His jaw tenses once more and you think for a second he might say something else. But he holds his tongue, wanting the most for you to keep calm beside him.

You can feel it in the air around him; the captain's as bugged out as you are right now. He was just doing everything he could to keep being a leader and bottle it up, channeling those fears and turning them into fuel to keep going. His words may be more for himself, than you, but they're true enough.

You lift your good hand up and let it rest over his, feeling his hand stiffen at first, but then find its home against your palm. You didn't want to have to let go, but you knew you must eventually. So you nod. "Damn right, you're not."

Price chuckles, happy to see you on the same page. "Fuckin' A, love," he quickly quips. "Now let's move."

The rocky hills stretched further out ahead of you. At some point their edges seem to blend with the black of the sky, all the stars gone away someplace. Luck would see a full moon above your heads, providing the only bit of light on this makeshift route to the Evac Zone.

You have Price's arm over your left shoulder now, having to help him the rest of the way since you've escaped the base. No amount of tough guy act the Captain put on could prevent the amount of blood he'd been losing. Had he not started tumbling over mid-shootout suddenly, you wouldn't have even known. And you wanted to kill him yourself once you did too.

It's nothin' fatal, he had said. The lie of the fucking century, right?

By now his dark blood has practically stained the entire lower right side of his body, making his skin pale and his eyelids heavy. His movements slowed, his reflexes taking a severe hit because of it, and he was beginning to breathe heavier. You've gone through all your supplies trying to stop his bleeding before leaving the house. Nothing worked.

It had been infuriating, just as it'd been scary to realize that your Captain really did need a medic right now. If he didn't see a doctor soon, he might just bleed to death before you've made it out of here.

Of course, having to help him now meant you couldn't shoot at all, given the state of your other arm. Price helped with what he could, but even a man of his talents couldn't prevent shaky shots from increasing blood loss.

"Nikolai's not far out now," Price grunted out, doing his best to put one more clip into his pistol. The last one. "Should be a few more clicks along this trail."

"He couldn't fly a little closer," you huff out, readjusting your hold on the Captain. He wasn't a light man, and while he did everything in his power to make this easier for you, his weakening state only grew harder to carry.

"You holdin' up alright?" Price asks. You feel him once again, ready himself to try and pull away and stand on his own feet. Having to rely on you was eating away at him, you could tell.

"I'm fine," you tell him, though that's not all the way true. Your vision had started to blur, and your lungs felt on fire. Now that some time has passed, all your once numb injuries were suddenly starting to scream at you for relief. Had you not been concentrating on your steps in front of you, or the thumping of your heart inside your ringing ears, you would have fainted already.

But you were all Price had right now; there was no way you'd fail him when he needed you most. "I'm more worried about you, Captain."

"Still got my wits about me..." he says. "Maybe a little lighter now, given I've been leakin' like a faucet."

"I'd beg to differ."

"Eh, you can use the exercise, lieutenant."

"Or you can lose the weight, Captain."

You both chuckle, and for a second, it felt easier to pretend you both were somewhere else right now. Spending all the time together you only wish you had before.

The levity was needed. It kept you both sane and human, and right now, Price was kicking himself in the ass for not appreciating these moments with you sooner.

The team really lucked out when they recruited you, he saw that now. You've always made sure you were someone Price could trust. That you were someone he could depend on you. You kept a cool head and you did what you must, while staying both good-natured and sweet, despite everything.

And when everything was said and done, you came back to him, keeping a smile as neutral as his own could manage. Your eyes bright like stars with him in your sights. His would often do the same.

All the times you've been at his side before tonight, keeping his head on straight when he needed it most, and always reminding him of life outside of all of this, they've only increased over the years. In every moment it always felt as though you two only teetered at the next level of your fondness for one another. Both wanting to push further, but not wanting to push the other too quickly either.

Your roles on the team always came first; they seemed to be the most important thing at the time.

Every lingering touch, a longing gaze brought by excitement and recognition, a check-in during work, or a brief moment of conversation... that's where your relationship has stayed for years now. You both felt OK with that. You thought so at first.

However, Price knew one thing. He couldn't lose you tonight. He wouldn't. Not on his account. Not when there's so much more that can still be. John's lived long enough to know that when something feels this right, there is no time to waste, lest he lose that chance forever like he has with so many others before.

You feel Price grow slack against your side now, his blood starting to soak through your uniform. It took everything in you not to panic.

"I won't let you fall," you assure him now, adjusting him against you. "Just keep holding on."

The smell of blood is so strong, you'll never forget its scent long after you've left this place. Nor would you forget seeing your Captain this way. Hurt and broken. You know he's no stranger to it, but alas, John is still human.

"...I'm taking you out for dinner after this," Price up and says suddenly. He figures he should just throw that out there, in case he didn't get another chance to. "My treat."

You nearly trip when you hear him, as if you're heart needed any more of a reason to fluctuate. You lost count of how long you've waited to hear him say that, having spent so many nights daydreaming about a time he'd come up to you and actually asked you out. It felt like everything you imagined it would; if only it had been under better circumstances.

"Is that a promise, Captain?"

"You know I wouldn't bluff about that, love."

"Well, then you better keep it then, John."

"As you wish."

He could hardly understand how it was you were still able to push through all that growing pain in your body after taking such a blast. He couldn't be more proud of it either.

The town illuminated like a glowing city behind you, AQ and Russians creating an uproar there, regardless of your presence. It was no longer your problem, however. The approaching convoy heading your direction was.

You weren't out of the fire just yet.

You look around yourselves, only having a few large rocks and boulders to hide behind in your immediate vicinity. Little word is needed to be shared between you two before the plan was nonverbally green-lit.

You both take cover behind a large rock facing the hills, Price resting down against the rock as you took out your pistol. It was time to see if your shooting with your left hand has improved any more than it did a few minutes ago during your escape.

You peak over the stone, seeing four AQ soldiers step out with rifles and flashlights, already hot on your pursuit. Tracking the trail of blood you'd left behind. Price peaks around the other side of the rock, raising his pistol.

"You take the two on the right," he whispers. "I got left."

You nod, and then take position. Price takes the first shot, dropping both his targets with swift precision. Even wounded, the man always had a way with pistols. Forever the dead-eye shot.

You drop one AQ soldier, happy to see your aim improve. However, your heart sinks when you go to shoot the other soldier and you hear the click of your pistol suddenly. Out of ammo.

The AQ soldier fires at you, the bullet just grazing by your cheek, before another hits you straight at the center of your chest, rattling your sternum and knocking you off your feet. Without your bulletproof vest, that bullet would have torn straight through you. Though you might as well have died, with the pain it sent through you instead. Knocking the wind out of you.

Before you know it, Price has reached over and started pulling you back behind the boulder. "Hold on!" he says. "You're not dead yet."

Price goes to try and get to his knees and peek over the boulder, however, now that he's sat back behind the rock again with you, it's become an impossible task to even wiggle his feet at this point. Like his legs were losing feeling. The blood loss really was starting to catch up to him now, it seems.

So instead, Price did the next best thing, simply waiting for the AQ soldier to round the corner, which he stupidly does. The minute the enemy's head peaks over, Price shot twice for good measure, watching the man drop to the ground with a heavy thud.

"I think we're clear," he says. "Still breathing?"

"Yeah," you gasp out.

A lot of times, you're not sure if you'd make it through a lot of these missions if Price wasn't here. The true backbone of the 141. The man always just seemed to be prepared for anything, even with the odds stacked against him. Often feeling like some other worldly being on the field, unable to be truly harmed by the threats he faced.

Until now, you couldn't even picture him so hurt.

When Price went on a mission, you could trust he'd get it done, if no one else. And you could always trust he'd make it back too. One way or another. Of course, he wasn't always lucky, as rare as those days actually came. Luck seemed to only be a recent thing for him in fact, and of short supply tonight.

You push yourself up, rubbing your hand over your chest in an attempt to soothe the throbbing. You're unsure what bad juju you yourself had crossed, or why lady luck seemed on your side even despite it all, but maybe fate wanted you to make it out of here.

One of you at least.

You look over at Price and see him barely able to keep consciousness now, cold sweat forming at the sides of his face, and a puddle of blood building around his legs. His breathing broken. Dying.

Seeing him now, pale, bloodied, and relying on a rock behind him to keep himself upright... for the first time ever you felt fear for your Captain.

"No, no, no," you rush over to Price, taking hold of his face and bringing his eyes to you. Seeing them so close again wakes him somewhat. "Stay with me, Captain."

"I'm still here..." Price answers weakly. Even still, he tries to keep up an act in front of you, like he truly was fine. It only made you more afraid to lose him now. Out in some rocky hilltop in the middle of nowhere because of bad intel. You couldn't lose him like this.

You look over the boulder, seeing the convoy those AQ soldiers showed up in still running a few feet ahead of you. Just what you needed.

"Can you stand?" You ask.

"...I'll need help," he said.

"OK, OK..." You take a deep breath, plotting everything out in your head before taking Price's hand in yours. "There's a convoy over there we can take to the Evac Zone. It'll be faster than going on foot."

You start trying to pull Price up, feeling the man use all the strength he can muster to try and push off the ground and back to his feet. Having one hand to help him didn't make matters easier, however. He made it halfway before falling back against the cold stone with a sharp grunt and some swearing.

Rather than comment, you take Price's hand again, feeling your face turn red with trying to lift him. He gets his knees bent to stand this time, but whenever any weight was applied afterward, an aggressive pain would awkwardly shoot through his body, taking all the momentum from him and causing him to sink back down. And with how heavy he was, you couldn't stop him once he it happened.

Price falls back against the rock again, as frustrated as you are about it all. He can't even bring himself to look you in your eye he's so mad, ashamed of the situation. It's not like him to be the one holding things back. He shouldn't have gotten wounded like this in the first place, he felt.

"...If you go and get help, I can manage here 'til then," Price starts to say. Feeling like a burden, he no longer wished to hold you down. But you wouldn't hear it.

"Fuck that," you protest. "I didn't carry you all the way over here to leave you so you can bleed out."

"...You didn't do it to die here either." He grabs at his side, gritting his teeth along to that burning pain he felt, as the taste of iron tinted the back of his throat now. "Look, this ain't how I plan on goin' out, trust me. Plus we've still got that dinner, yeah?"

Price smiles at you after he says it, and it takes everything in you not to cry. An unspoken reality lingered in the air soon after, because you both knew what it'd mean if you couldn't pick him up from this spot. You'd give anything to not make that so.

You hear more vehicles heading your way from the town. A good handful of them now. Too many. All armed and ready to take out the two 141 soldiers responsible for killing their friends. You knew if you left Price here now, you wouldn't see him again.

"Fuck..." Out of breath and defeated, sorrow starts to settle in and you swallow it down, letting the feelings stir into frustration. "Why'd we wait so long, John?"

Price felt at a loss for words. "I don't know..." he admits. He couldn't quite give you an answer for that; it had always just been... something. He could at least look you in your eyes when he spoke to you now. "But... I'm sorry for that," he says. "Probably should have said somethin' sooner, huh."

You have to bite your cheek to keep from letting his words fill you with so much sorrow and regret. "You and me both."

Fearful that these may actually be your final moments with your Captain, now you wish he hadn't said anything at all, not knowing you'd be losing him so soon after. Leave it to Price to twist the knife in a wound you didn't even know had now grown.

However, Price did not share your begrudging feelings about how things turned out. He'd just been happy finally getting that off his chest. Now, if you could just get to safety then if he did die tonight he'd be satisfied enough with things.

"Better late than never, right?" Price chuckles through the pain. And then he grows quiet. "You know I've always had a pension for dramatic timing."

The vehicles in the distance getting closer now. There was no more time for further talking.

"Forever the attention seeker, Captain," you comment.

"Yours is all I ever needed."

You look back to the town a final time, seeing the convoys getting closer. You take a deep breath, and then you reapproach your Captain, taking his hand. You prepare yourself to try and lift Price back up to his feet again. "Well, you've got it."

"Now hold on-"

"No," you didn't want to hear any more of his excuses to be left behind. If helping him means you both die here, then that was something you were willing to risk. "I'm not leaving you here, so give it up already."

With one final pull, you use all the strength you have left in you to lift your Captain up to his feet. He uses your momentum to push himself up from the boulder, actually managing to stand, though it feels as though his guts are about to spill out of him when he does.

As he's teetering over, you quickly grab hold of his arm, restabilizing him, and trying not to jump too much for joy that you actually got him up this time.

You take his arm and wrap it back around your shoulder, as you guided him over to the convoy.

"We're damn near home free, Captain," you say. "Just hold on a little longer. You'll make it. You're the toughest man I know."

He is the toughest man you knew. A man ready to jump into the fire to save others in need. A man that can shrug off a helicopter crash, take a beating and still keep from succumbing. You knew he'd never go down without a fight, and it's why you felt so safe beside him. It's why you wouldn't leave him.

You open the passenger door and help Price inside.

"...You really want that dinner, don't you?" he teases you.

"Is that even a question?" You check to make sure the vehicle can still run, feeling for any tracking devices that might overcomplicate your escape. Once you see you're good to go, you buckle your seat belt and take the wheel. "Yeah, I want that dinner. Now stop bleeding and sit tight."

"Yes, ma'am."

Next stop, the Evac Zone.

Part Two

#call of duty #john price x reader #captain price #captain john price #call of duty modern warfare 2 #call of duty mwii #call of duty modern warfare #call of duty modern warfare ii #might add music later #perhaps an orchestra #I'm a film major #I love drama

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pochipop · 2 years

Text

＃ GENSHIN IMPACT !! ♡ — THEY COMFORT YOU AFTER A ROUGH DAY.

#. synopsis! — everyone has bad days. it's always nice when you don't have to deal with it alone .

#. characters! — thoma , itto , diluc, zhongli , xiao .

#. warnings! — none .

#. alt accounts! — @ddollipop (nsfw) @yyolkchi (reblog/spam) .

#. others! — navigation & masterlist .

𖦹. ━ THOMA !!

The moment he meets your eyes, Thoma knows something is wrong. Try as you might to hide it, stuffing your emotions down so as not to burden him with your problems, —he simply knows you too well to ignore the subtlety sullen expression you're wearing. His approach is gentle and comforting, greeting you with a warm hug. By no means is that out of the ordinary, —in fact, it would have likely felt more bizarre if he hadn't done so. However, this time he holds you a little closer and for a little while longer than he usually would.

"Are you hungry?" He asks the moment he pulls himself away, smoothing some loose strands of hair out of your face. "I can make you a snack if you'd like. I also just poured some dango milk, so feel free to drink up if you want some."

A smile tugs at the corners of your lips. It's hard to feel down when you're around Thoma, —maybe even impossible. His smile and laugh are infectious, and he brightens any room he steps foot in. He's so sweet that it's hard to believe he's real sometimes and not a story book prince that's come to life by way of some magical spell.

"No thanks," you shake your head, not feeling up to eating or drinking anything at the moment.

You're sure to thank him for his offers though.

"Is there anything you wanna talk about then?" He asks, being sure to tread lightly.

He doesn't want to make you feel pressured to tell him anything. If you'd like to keep things to yourself, that's more than okay, and Thoma completely respects that! However, he also wants to be sure that you know you can come to him when you need encouragement, advice, or even just someone to lend an ear to your troubles.

Of course, with a lover like Thoma, you already know all of that and more.

"It was just a hard day," you admit. "Nothing seemed to go right, and I kept making silly mistakes that I'd normally never have made any other time. I don't know why either. Everything just seemed to go wrong."

He looks at you with sympathetic eyes, hand reaching out to grasp for yours. Thoma smoothes his thumb across the ridge of your knuckles, nodding in understanding.

"Everyone has days like that," he assures you, voice so sweet it might as well be dripping with honey. "Sometimes easy tasks just don't go the way we'd like them too, and that can be frustrating. But you made it through, didn't you?"

"Yeah," you nod in confirmation, "I did."

"Because you're strong, and nobody should be judged by their roughest days. Tomorrow's another chance to start again, do things differently, and ease yourself back into normalcy."

He sing-songs a "but," free hand reaching out to grasp for your own.

"Tonight is a chance to let things go and know that you can fix them later on. So, for now, —let me rub your shoulders for a while, and then I'll make dinner. Your favorite. How's that sound?"

You feel your stress slipping away in his wake, and you pull him in for another warm hug. Thoma squeezes you a little tighter, pressing a fervent kiss to your temple in the process. There's always been something about him that's soothed you, calmed your stormy seas into little more than lapping tides. It's easy to forget your problems when you're with him.

"You're the best," you mumble into his chest, which leaves Thoma grinning from ear to ear.

When it comes to you, he's foolishly lovesick. You make his heart race a mile a minute, and he loves every second of it. "I am pretty cool," he playfully agrees, "—but you're the best, actually. Now come sit, make yourself comfortable and I'll help get rid of some of this tension."

𖦹. ━ ITTO !!

Itto tends to be a little oblivious to the feelings of others. Actually, he can be pretty aloof in regard to his own emotions as well, so it can't really be helped that he doesn't immediately notice that you're a little upset. You tell yourself it's probably for the best anyway, —he seems to have had a fairly good day, no complaints to make note of, and you don't want to simmer his mood down. Even so, it's almost impossible to keep up a happy-go-lucky facade after your stress filled day. From start to finish, it was as if the world were stacking all odds against you.

By the time you were halfway through, you were already prepared to just go home and shut out the rest of the world for at least the rest of the night. But forgoing your responsibilities just wasn't an option, unfortunately.

Eventually, Itto picks up on your unusual amount of silence and decides to ask if everything is alright. He takes a seat next to you and places his large hands on his thighs, thumbs curling under his palms.

"You haven't said much since you got back," he notes, "is everything okay?"

"Yeah, yeah, —everything's fine," you say, but you can't tell if you're trying to reassure him or yourself more with those words.

It's a little white lie. . .

"I'm just tired," you elaborate. "Guess the day felt longer than it really was."

"You just seem sad," the oni says, "and I don't like it when you're sad. It makes me sad."

"Oh. . . I-I'm sorry," you apologize reflexively, "today was just a little rough and I. . ."

Your words trail off, but Itto quickly corrects himself.

"Don't be sorry! All I meant was that I don't like seeing you look sad because you deserve to be happy! But, humans and oni. . . We both have feelings! I know it can't be helped sometimes, so you have nothing to be apologizing for. It's only natural."

Somehow, that sentiment you were already well aware of makes you crack the first smile of the day. Maybe it was just something in the way he said it, but it brightened your mood with ease.

"Thank you," you tell him, slinking yourself into his side.

The sudden touch surprises him a little, but he welcomes it all the same. He places an arm around your shoulders, pulling you close and allowing you to snuggle into his body. His lips ghost along the crown of your head.

"You can stay at my side as long as you need,* Itto tells you, "—even if that means you'll be here forever."

Of course, that's an outlandish prospect by all accounts. Even so, the idea of it doesn't seem half bad. If you could spend the rest of your life surrounded by his warmth, you probably would, —and who could really blame you? At the end of the day, your soft-hearted boyfriend is little more than a giant teddy bear.

A teddy bear with a lot of built-up muscle and a lengthy criminal record, but a teddy bear nonetheless!

𖦹. ━ DILUC !!

Diluc doesn't ask right away. The last thing he wants to do is overstep, and although he doubts you'd feel that way about his inquiry, he doesn't want to risk making a wrong move and spoiling your already sour mood even more so. His top priority in the situation is your well being, —so he whips you up something fresh to drink and even offers to prepare something for you to snack on.

He feels more comfortable asking about your downtrodden expression once you've taken the drink. As you sip on it, Diluc places a single hand softly on your shoulder, a reassuring warmth seeping from his palm to your skin through the fabric of your shirt.

"Did something happen today?" He asks.

You bite at the inside of your cheek, struggling to be completely honest. It was just a rough day from the very beginning, and things had progressively gotten worse as it went along. It was hard juggling all of your missed steps on top of everything else, and by the time you were free to go home, you were left with a heavy feeling in your chest. Even so, you don't want to bring Diluc into it. You know his job is stressful enough as it is, especially when he doubles as the midnight vigilante that protects Mondstadt from the shadows once the moon makes its way into the sky.

"Just. . . Just some small things that built up, I guess. Nothing horrible, but my day could have gone a lot smoother," you acknowledge truthfully.

"Would you like to talk about it?" Diluc suggests, thinking that maybe getting the finer details off your chest would help to alleviate some of your displeasure.

You decline the offer, knowing that rehashing things now will only make you feel silly for being so blue about it all in the aftermath. Still, you make sure to tell Diluc that you're appreciative of his offer.

The drink he made for you is halfway gone by the time he slips his arms around your waist and rests him chin on the crown of your head. It's a simple gesture, but you can't help but to feel special when Diluc pulls you close to him like this. He's so reserved that only you get to experience such acts from him, and knowing that makes your heart skip a beat.

"It's okay if you're not interested in talking about things," he says, reassuringly so. "Just know that I love you, and if you change your mind, I'm always here to listen."

Diluc tends to be more of a read-between-the-lines type of guy, so for him to be so upfront is a bit of a surprise. A welcome one, granted, but a surprise nonetheless.

"But, if you don't, that's fine too," he continues. "It's up to you. And I'll be here no matter what."

His sudden vocality is a bit startling if you're being honest, but you appreciate his effort to be more communicative nonetheless. You lean into his warmth, finding comfort there. His body heat seems to dim all the negative thoughts and feelings plaguing you after your less than stellar day.

He offers you a few small pecks to the apple of your cheek for good measure.

𖦹. ━ ZHONGLI !!

Though Zhongli has only lived amongst humans for a short time in comparison to what his appearance might lead many to believe, he's become quite adept at ascertaining emotions from small details. He's become especially good at identifying your moods in particular, so it comes as little to no shock when you come home after a fairly rough day and Zhongli almost immediately catches onto your thinly veiled fretting.

"Today didn't quite go as planned, I presume?" He asks, placing a comforting hand on your knee as he takes a seat beside you

It's a small geture, but it means the world to you.

"Not exactly," you reply. "Nothing that happened was all that bad, but it became harder for me to focus once my rhythm had been thrown off, and I ended up scrambling for the rest of the day."

Zhongli nods in understanding.

"Some days are harder than others. The best you can give will be different at any given time, so it's important to acknowledge your efforts and treat yourself with kindness, even when you don't feel like you're working to the fullest of your capabilities."

Ah, there he goes again, being so wise. You can't help but to smile when he speaks to you like this, tailoring advice to you from his long history of experiences. When you tell him things, no matter how disjointed at times, he seems to see right through all the inconsistencies and the emotions that get jumbled up in the mix, cutting through to the heart of the problem no matter what it may be.

"I'll keep that in mind," you nod, "—thank you."

He senses very quickly that you feel something is missing but don't have the nerve to ask for it. He pauses, waiting to see if you'll cave and just be honest about your desires. When you don't, however, Zhongli decides to offer himself to you.

"Would you like a hug?" He asks, pressing the flat of his palm to the crown of your head affectionately.

You're a bit embarrassed that it was so easy to see through you, but you're certainly not in any place to turn him away. After all, you really do want that hug. So, you nod your head, and Zhongli smiles at you softly before pulling you into his embrace.

𖦹. ━ XIAO !!

As someone who hasn't spent much time around humans or the adepti that live among them, Xiao is quite a bit out of touch with his own feelings, —as well as everyone else's. Emotions aren't an easy thing to muster up for him, nor to understand in others. Still, he's by no means oblivious to the way you don't greet him as happily when he shows up at random this evening.

Even so, he says nothing of it until hours have passed, the evening sunlight has been replaced by a waning moon, and you've yet to truly seem like yourself.

"Are you unhappy?" Xiao eventually asks.

He maintains a steady distance for the time being, uncertain of what it is you need. If he were to go off his own personal experiences, he'd likely give you space and time to sit alone and think, to process, to grieve whatever's happened. . . But he's proficient enough in the way humans work now to understand that being alone isn't always preferable. In fact, now that he's thinking about it, being alone hasn't always been preferable to him, either.

"Unhappy?" You parrot, "—I don't think I'd say that, no. . . I'm just a little down is all."

He nods in understanding and closed the gap between you a bit, standing nearer to you.

"Is there a reason why?"

He asks because, from what Xiao has gathered, sometimes humans just feel sad because they do, with no inherent rhyme or reason.

"Not a singular one, no," you shake your head, "but a lot of small things built up over the course of the day, and I ended up. . . Feeling really overwhelmed," you elaborate.

Now that Xiao understands. He knows what it's like to be completely and utterly in over your head, floundering for breath, making mistake after mistake. He understands very well the way pressure builds inside the body, threatening to explode in any form it can, —whether in sadness, anger, frustration, or something completely different altogether.

"Is there something I can do to help?"

Such a simple gesture, and yet it means the world to you.

You don't need anything in particular. It's obvious that you can just try again tomorrow, be better than you were today. . . You know how to fix things, how to men your mistakes and get quickly back on track. But the fact that Xiao is so clearly going outside of his comfort zone to offer you refuge away from yourself is enough to make your heart jump in the cavern of your chest.

"Could I just have a hug?" You inquire honestly.

Though Xiao is quite a bit taken aback by that, he sees no point in denying you one. So, he nods his head and wordlessly accepts you into his arms, holding you close. One of his hands comes up to lie flat against the back of your head. He doesn't say it, but you know you can stay there for as long as you need.

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