#yandere genshin impact x reader

[harmonysanreads]

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

what do you call this? a love hexagon? 🤔

[ au masterlist ]

[lijojo]

genshin sugar daddies: leaving hickeys on you

premise: you have seven sugar daddies: one for each day of the week. it’s a bit overwhelming, but you try you’re best to keep each relationship relatively independent from the other. that means no hickeys. except, well, each one of them wants to make you theirs exclusively and they’re not above marking you secretly to send a message to tomorrow’s person. (yandere! possessive! genshin reverse harem x reader) (modern au!) 

*if you want more yandere genshin sugar daddy content the introduction is here but this can be a standalone read! 

tags: nsfw, dark content, afab reader, fingering, dirty-talk, unprotected sex, dub-con, smut smut smut smut smut

diluc is no stranger to jealousy. you can sense it in the way his eyes constantly beckon for yours. the way he grips tightly onto your waist. he never asks anything more than your gaze on monday evenings. they have to be on him. always. not for a second more are you allowed to look at anything else but him. he’s greedy, always pulling you to look at him once more. naturally, his gaze is always on you. 

you feel it drag up and down your back. crawl into the little dip in your neckline to see what’s underneath your clothes. 

so the one time, the one time, kaeya’s crafty attempts to leave hickeys on your folds and inner thighs in the midst of eating you out, diluc catches it. 

he sees it the moment he peels off your panties. what should’ve been a slow sequence of him sinking his tongue into your pussy is immediately halted at the sight of a very small but noticeable bruise in the juncture between your thighs and your labia minora. 

kaeya’s warning. 

the change in his demeanor is undeniable. his heavy gaze flits over to your face. intentful. unaware of the hickey, you’re understandably confused. 

if diluc’s seen something, he doesn’t tell you. instead, he internalizes the sight. it’s a warning and a challenge. 

mine. 

he’s quick to grab onto your wrists and pin them above your head. before you can brace yourself, he’s slipped a finger inside you. you gasp at the sudden intrusion, but welcome him as he curls his finger towards him, gently brushing against that spongy spot that leaves you breathless. 

he chuckles lightly as you roll your eyes back. his thumb presses on your clit, nudging it side to side. “you’re soaking wet,” he mutters, sliding another two fingers inside you. “all for me?” 

your hold on the sheets tightens. 

he leans closer to your ear. “i can’t wait to smear the remnants of your orgasm on my cock. make it slick enough to slip inside you. make you feel good. we want my darling to feel really good, right?”

you hiss when he starts thrusting his fingers into you at rapid speed. desperate. eager to make you spill your affection onto his hands. 

“that wasn’t a rhetorical question, sweetheart.”

you can’t help the moan that leaves you as you approach your climax. “y-yes! yes—ah—diluc!” 

his grin looks so unlike him. his thumb starts to draw circles on your clit, going quicker and quicker the more you squirm and moan. 

“cum on me. do it for me, princess. cum all over my hand. give me all your everything.”

you can barely understand the undertone in his words. instead, you reach your high. your orgasm pours out of you, onto his beckoning fingers. and instead of letting you go, he continues mercilessly until your left whining for him to stop. 

and he does. eventually. he slowly pulls his digits out of your crying cunt. he collects the droplets that trickle out of your lower lips and let’s it drip onto his twitching dick. he runs his hands along his shaft, letting out a shaky groan. 

“look how pretty you’ve made me. this is all you, darling.” 

he fucks you like it’s he’ll die if he doesn’t. blinded by the mixture of pain and pleasure, you close your eyes and submit to the feeling of overwhelming bliss. 

you’re so overwhelmed, that you don’t register how he’s kissing your neck like a man on a mission. 

დ

the two of you are in the middle of a normal tuesday brunch when childe sees it. when you turn to accept the menu from the waiter, he can see the slightest marks that you couldn’t hide, even with the most expensive foundation. 

you curse internally when you see his eyes narrow in on you. you should’ve known better than to ever believe that diluc would ever follow one of your only rules: no hickeys. 

and now childe, notoriously competitive, will feel compelled to have his fill. 

you should’ve worn a scarf. 

you thought that the position of the hickey, and the slight fadedness your foundation was barely able to provide would’ve been enough. you were wrong. 

like a built-in reflex, you smile. “what’s the matter? is there something wrong?”

he gives you a smile, an all-knowing smile as he takes the menu from you. “nothing is wrong at all, girlie. i’m just admiring that new necklace i bought you.”

you’re good at pretending nothing’s wrong, so you fiddle the crystals with your hand. “i love the way it shimmers,” you add, “i love how sparkly you’ve made me.” 

if you’ve done anything to settle his displeasure, he doesn’t show it. instead, he averts his eyes to the menu. you know better than to believe that nothing bad will come out tonight. 

for the rest of the night, he engages in small talk with you. about the weather. a new store that’s just opened up. some story about some poor guy who borrowed more money than he could ever give back. the thought makes you tighten your grip on your fork.

when you get back to his penthouse, he’s quick to strip you of your luxurious gown and all of it’s accompanied gold accents. when you reach to take off the necklace that decorates your neck, he stops you. 

“keep it on,” he whispers, his hand crawling up your thigh to grip your ass. “wanna fuck you looking so pretty in my jewelry. wanna make you shine with sweat as pretty as those gems.” 

“oh really?” you retort, sliding your hand between the two of your bodies and cupping his sex. he groans as you run your fingertips down his groin. “wanna make me shine with your cum?” 

“yes,” he gasps. in the heat of the moment, his eyes catches the faint outline of diluc’s mark just below your jaw. overtaken by some primal instinct, he presses your waist against him. “you’re letting all those side-fucks give you hickeys?” 

his words almost make you want to freeze. but you’re quick to resume back to normal, to pretend that those words don’t phase you. that you don’t hear the implications in the undertones of his voice. 

it’s worse if you tell him it was unintentional. 

“it’s a new development.” you tug at his hair as he digs his face into the crook of your neck. “you get only one.”

you need to have the upper hand. in a sea of seven men who are constantly demanding things from you, you have to take what you’re dealt with and do something before they overtake you.

he grins.  “you’re such a tease. which motherfucker left this on you?” 

you know better than to tell him. everyone knows that there’s seven who you’re regularly seeing. but they don’t know the names—not the order. you know better than to give names. these men are as powerful as they are rich, you wouldn’t do anything that’d upset the city’s dynamics. 

so you avoid the question, like you’ve always done. 

“i can think of better ways you can use that mouth, other than asking silly questions.” 

his brow twitches, but he doesn’t do anything else to push you. instead, he smiles into your neck. “only one?”

“only one,” you confirm.

he doesn’t hesitate to take off your necklace. his hands dive to the back of your neck to unclip it and toss it to the side. you let out a yelp in surprise when it clangs onto the coffee table. 

“i’ll buy you a better one,” he says in-between open-mouthed kisses on your jawline. “fuck, i’ll buy you a thousand more.”

he sinks down to your collarbone. “’been dreaming of this. my girl, my pretty, pretty girl, wearing reminders of me.” 

♡

the two of you are in the comfort of kazuha’s home. wednesdays are reserved for writing, and like always, you’re pinned under his watchful gaze while he writes his thoughts away in his notebook. 

with every few scrawls, he peeks over the paper to steal glances at you. you hum, pretending to be blissfully aware. you’re just here as his muse. 

as of this moment, you snuggle into your comfortable place in the back of his study, leaning against the window that expands to his backyard that oversees the sunrise and sunset. your own notebook rests on your thighs, your knees pressed close enough to your chest to allow you to write smoothly. kazuha sits across from you, his feet sometimes brushing against yours. if you laid your legs out straight, no doubt that the balls of your feet would meet his waist. 

he keeps stealing glances at you. has been for the past hour. no matter how much you try to focus on your own poems, you can’t brush away the feeling of being watched. 

his eyes are impeccable, and can spot the marks that occasionally peak underneath your scarf when you move a certain away. 

“you let them mark you?” he asks out of the blue. not accusatorily, per se, but you can detect the edge in his voice. 

the corners of your lips perk unnaturally. the moment you’d been dreading since you woke up had arrived. you let your eyes soften, as if it could soothe kazuha by any means. with a gentle hand, you reach out to softly grasp his hand that tightens around the edge of his notebook. it’s something he accepts readily, enveloping your hand with his. 

“i was meaning to talk to you about this, kazu,” you say tenderly. “it’s just something i’m trying out. everyone gets one. see if everyone’s okay with it.” 

kazuha doesn’t say anything. his gaze is fixated on your intertwined hands. “my love, they mark your skin like animals.”

you smile like it’s no trouble. because that’s what you need him to believe. you feel like kazuha’s a loose thread. tug him in the wrong direction, the wrong idea, and he’ll undo the entire sweater. 

“it’s only going to be seven,” you reply, trying to lessen the tension. 

“it’s better if there’s just one,” he retorts gingerly. “they aren’t gentle at all, are they?”

you don’t like the way his eyes sweep over your entire figure. you hold back a shudder, feeling as if a ghost had just passed through you. 

“they are,” you mumble, although you can hardly say it’s true. “don’t you worry kazu, i can handle myself.” 

your line of sight flits back to your intertwined hands; he lets go, instead running the pads of his fingers down the back of your hands before settling on your wrist. his hold is firm. it’s not tight enough to cause you pain, but not gentle enough to let you pull away. 

“i’m sure you do, love,” he mutters. but the way he says it makes it seem as if he doesn’t believe you.

his eyes connect with yours intently.

the rustle of your clothes shuffling echoes through the quiet study as he pulls your wrist towards his mouth. in doing so, you’re forced to lean forward. his eyes never leave you, not when he presses a soft kiss to the inside of your wrist.

“they just want you for your body,” he says, more to himself than you. “they don’t love you at all. everything would be so much better if you just dropped them. let me take care of it. take care of it all.” 

you don’t say anything back. he doesn’t want you to. and even if you did, it wouldn’t be something he’d want to hear. you have bills to pay. you have enemies a wealthy poet wouldn’t be able to defend you from on his own. 

his tongue slides out of his mouth to lick a long strip up your wrist, all while looking at you. he presses open-mouthed kisses in the same spot, sucking and nibbling with purpose. in-between kisses, his tongue draws letters on the expanse of your skin in a sentence you’ve begun to fear.

A L L M I N E  

დ

when spring comes, tighnari will sometimes give you hickeys. he’ll do it in the heat of the moment in a passionate rut. he can’t think of anything else but you. how perfect you are for him. how beautiful. how you belong to him. 

while he drives his cock into you the only way he knows how, his lips will find their place in the crook of your neck. on the curve of your breasts. on the plush of your thighs. he’ll kiss you like you’re his air. 

he’ll whimper into your skin. in that moment, you’re powerless to stop him. his pace is godspeed, pummeling into you like you’re his lifeline. driven to leave his white reminders of his love and devotion into your aching pussy. you can barely hold yourself up steadily. your fingers tremble. overcome with an insurmountable high, you can’t push him away as he leaves hickeys all over your body. 

it’s not to send a message to everyone, per se, but to express the feelings he’d been keeping pent up during autumn, winter, and summer. the overwhelming infatuation and adoration he feels for you. 

his pension for leaving nonstop hickeys on you starts to settle on the fourth day. and by the end of the week-long rut, they’ve faded just enough that you can cover it up with foundation and expensive jewelry. 

but when he’s not blinded by his sexual desperation during the spring, it’s a different story. 

it’s a perfectly fine thursday mid-afternoon in the comfort of tighnari’s study when he sees it. 

he catches a glimpse of kazuha’s kiss on your wrist when you pass a cup of tea to him. your sleeves ride up just a bit under the beaming sun. you notice too, and are quick to pull back. but it’s too late. the moment he’s set down the cup he’s grabbing onto your wrist and pulling back the sleeve. “what’s this?” 

you’re tempted to let out a breath of relief that he didn’t notice the hickey that barely rested on the edge of your collar. when you donned on the turtleneck sweater, you feared that he’d notice it if it slipped down and grow even more livid. 

just play it off. pretend. if you’re lucky, by the end of this week, you’ll end up with only six hickeys. 

“oh, i must’ve bumped into something.” 

tighnari scowls. “this doesn’t seem like an ordinary bruise. how’d you get it?” 

you’re scrambling for a believable response. “i was leaning back onto the counter and didn’t realize the corner was there.”

he chuckles. “clumsy you.” his forefinger inches up the slightest bit to press on it. 

you wince. subsequently, your entire body tenses. this isn’t like those times where you can lie sweetly to him whenever he asks for you to stay for good. this isn’t like one of those times you can charm your way out of a situation. the way he looks at you is knowing. feral.

“i wasn’t born yesterday, love,” he hisses. “i know a hickey when i see one, especially when i leave them on you every spring.”

the way he kisses you after is rougher than usual. desperate. needy. aggressive. he presses into you, his tail wagging tentatively. he brings your arms to wrap around his neck. his tongue caresses your own, exploring your mouth like it’s a new discovery. a new treasure trove. 

he whimpers into the kiss, his little squeaks and moans muffled by his need to devour you. 

you close your eyes and let yourself get swept up with the pacing. to get distracted by him. you hardly register the time pass before the two of you are naked, your clothes strewn across the floor in his bedroom. 

your back is pressed against his chest, your ass hugging his dick while he slides his hand down the valley between your breasts, stopping to pinch your nipple until it hardens. his other hand is left to its own devices, settling on your waist. 

his fingers find themselves in the comfort of your pussy. he whimpers at how amazing you feel around his fingertips. how every time he pulls in and out, there’s squelching noises that almost overtake his little whines and yelps. every time he pushes his fingers back in, your ass presses a little closer to his dick. 

he moans like you’re the one pleasuring him. like he’s on the cusp of euphoria, only silencing himself to press open-mouthed kisses on your shoulder. 

“it’s m-my turn,” he says in-between whines. “m-my pretty l-little pet.” 

დ

when alhaitham gets home after a long week of working, all he wants to do is relax in warmth of your embrace. friday is his reward. 

he eats dinner as always, asking you questions in-between bites while delivering long stares that still make you feel like you’re being researched. but this week, instead of insisting you two spend quality time together reading on the couch, he coaxes you into the bedroom. 

he groans into the kiss, pressing you to the wall as he helps you out of your clothes. but when he opens his eyes to admire your body, he doesn’t like what he sees.

he lets out an unamused chuckle. his hand brushes over your shoulder. “what’s this?” 

you try to speak, but he cuts you off with another kiss. when you gasp in surprise, his tongue dives into your mouth. 

he leaves you breathless; his pace is rough, almost angry. 

“what a bad girl you are,” he seethes, “letting all those bastards touch you like that? bruise your pretty, pretty skin?”

he doesn’t let you talk. he envelops your opportunity to reply with his relentless kisses. he presses harder into your mouth, your teeth almost gnashing together. it’s almost painful, as if he wished to bind you two together. 

“every friday is my solace, my holiday, didn’t you know?” 

you gasp for air. “i-” 

“i’m not done yet.” he brings his lips to yours for another hungry kiss. “every week i work so hard so i can see you, cherish you, and this is how you repay me? i thought you were my good girl.” 

he chuckles darkly. “but you’re just a bad apple, aren’t you? i’ll have to fix that.”

he continues to kiss you. to ravish you with his mouth. he swallows your moans, his hands eagerly exploring your body like it’s his first time. and like always, his hands find their place on your chest. 

“i’ve always loved your breasts: the way they curve, the way they sway so sweetly every time you arch your back for me, how your nipples perk up with every caress of mine.” he flicks one and you yelp. 

“those imbeciles really have no intelligence at all.” he licks a long stripe in-between the valley of your breasts. “your body is a canvas.” 

his eyes connect with yours, beckoning your gaze. a silent connection, a guarantee that you’re looking at him. at what he’s doing. at what he’s making you feel.

he stares at you attentively, and once again you feel like you’re being studied. every gasp that comes from your lips. every twitch of your brows. every time your eyelids flutter is under his watchful gaze like it’s the only thing his sight is for. like he’s a scientist researching the cure to his very own hunger. 

his lips find purchase just on the edge of your areola, sucking intently. “to mark you is a form of art.” 

he relishes in the way you shudder. but he needs more. 

with one hand on your waist, his other comes up to fondle your other breast, craving for more reaction.

“only idiots wouldn’t be able to realize it.” 

დ

unlike all of the other saturdays, where you’re probably swept up in the grand scheme of things (attending formal events, meeting politicians, or shopping like ayato’s wallet depended on it), you’re lounging in ayato’s home office on a calm evening. 

the two of you decided to end things a bit earlier today and relax a bit. and by that, you suggested to spend some quality time alone so that you didn’t need to walk anymore. although you prided yourself on stamina and tolerance to soreness, even you couldn’t keep up after just about a week of aggressive men fucking their jealousy into you. 

“it was hot today,” ayato mutters lazily as he gently runs his fingers through your hair. your head rests on the plush of his thigh, just as he likes it. “are you sure that you’re comfortable in that turtleneck, love?”

you curl into yourself a little bit more, tugging the collar up. “yes, i’m perfectly fine.”

you’re not fine. you’ve been sweating up a storm underneath your sweater but you were adamant on ending this week with six hickeys instead of seven. your stubbornness refused you the pleasure of ice-cold showers to wash away how your clothes burned you. 

he pouts. “are you sure? you look awfully uncomfortable, dear. you can take a shower in my bathroom, if you’d like.” he smiles. “i won’t look, promise.”

you turn to look at him, contemplating. on one hand, you don’t believe anything good will come out of undressing in ayato’s house. you don’t believe his promise, either. if you knew him any better, he’d walk into the shower on the grounds of saving water, where he’d see all the hickeys imbued into your skin. while diluc, childe, and kazuha’s marks were getting a little faded, you doubt you could somehow explain alhaitham and tighnari’s hickeys. 

but on the other hand, you’d been in this sweater for a whole day already. and your skin was started to get irritated. you felt gross with all of the sweat you’d accumulated. maybe five minutes wouldn’t hurt. 

you smile like there’s nothing to worry about. like you’re an adoring lover. like you’re whoever ayato wants you to be. you reach out to cup his cheek, to which he warmly receives. 

“okay. i’ll be back soon.”

he chuckles as you get up from his lap to head to the shower. you had to be quick. 

you all but run to the bathroom once you’re out of sight. you head to ayato’s bedroom where some of your clothes are. dresses, lingerie, t-shirts, jeans, shorts, and all other items of clothing he’s ever bought you hang neatly in his closet. you pluck whatever seems practical and make a break for the shower.

you slip off the diamond ring he’d given you months ago. you all but slam it onto the counter, relieved your ring finger can breathe for once. 

the quicker you take, the more likely you can shower without incident. 

but the moment you’ve stepped out of the shower, towel wrapped secure around your torso, to your horror, the door opens. 

“hey, love, i was wondering—”

just before you can close the door shut on him, his eyes connect to the discoloring on your shoulder. 

regardless of his discovery, you move to usher him out. but mid-way, your feet are halted in the middle of the bathroom floor. the words are crawling in your mouth. you want to tell him that you’d like to shower in peace, tell it to him teasingly, but you don’t think you can. 

that’s not what he wants. that’s not what pays the bills. 

you offer a tight-lipped smile. “like what you see?”

he paces towards you, caressing your shoulder. he leans closer to you, examining the color, the shape, the size. “hm, so that’s how they want to play this game,” he whispers, ignoring your question entirely.

his hands gently tug at your towel. he smiles. “won’t you open up for me, love?”

he guides your hands as you drop the towel, revealing alhaitham’s mark. 

“hm.” he looks at you as if he’s silently critiquing an art piece. “i see what’s going on here.” 

he takes the ring that you left behind on the counter and works to slide it slowly onto your finger again. “you almost forgot to wear the symbol of our love, dear.” 

“oh, it must’ve slipped my mind.” it’s like there’s cotton in your mouth. your throat feels dry.

he chuckles at that. “poor thing. my poor lover can be so forgetful.” 

 his eyes drift down to your chest.

he presses a kiss above your breasts, where your heart is.

“she almost forgets that she’s mine.” 

დ

even if he’s your designated sunday, if you aren’t careful enough, kaeya will create a week full of trouble for you. 

when he eats you out, he becomes pussy-drunk. he kisses your lower lips like it’s his prize. his reward for working so hard this week. his tongue runs up your pussy to your clit in a slow, deliberate stroke. 

when he reaches your clit, he lets his mouth mold over your nub. he licks at it gently, cherishing it like it’s his only rose on a lonely valentine’s day. 

he makes love to you like he’s reached his happily ever after. his lewd slurping overshadows the shuffling of the sheets, your moans. when he dips his tongue into your cunt, he whimpers. 

his fingers dig into your thighs, holding you in place. even when you’re overstimulated, begging for a break, he won’t let you go. he savors the way you tremble so cutely under his touch. how your cum leaks out of you in small streams after your fifth release. he’s immersed in your cunt, yearns to make out with your lower lips while his nose nudges at your clit.

it’s too much. the feeling of your climax is so overwhelming. 

he wants you to feel this euphoria, to remind you of how he feels every time he looks at you. 

he wants you so much. so fucking much it hurts him when he can’t see you. when he can’t hold you. when he can’t be with you like a real lover. he needs you like he needs air. he needs to feel you wrapped around him to give him life. to give him purpose. 

that’s why when you’re so swept up in the feeling of a constant climax, when your legs feel numb, he gets so carried away. 

if you don’t catch him in time, kaeya will leave secretive hickeys along your inner thigh, dangerously close to your folds. he needs the others to know he’s staking his claim.

to know he’s making you feel so good that there’s definitive proof. 

at the end of the week, when you see him again after seven days of trying to calm down the jealous storm among your seven sugar daddies, he’ll grin. 

it’s that same devious smirk he gives you at candlelight dinners, except it isn’t one to mask his vulnerabilities with charisma and one-liners. it’s one to tell you that he knows exactly what he’s done. 

he knows what he wants, and he’s finally had enough of the fucking waiting. 

[flokali]

Thinking about Neuvillette enabling Furina’s obsession with you, justifying it as a simple crush; yet another of her whims, she’ll get bored of you soon enough, he tells himself, but it’s been a little over a year and your presence seems to only cement itself in her life – and his, by association.

He lets her drag you around, unconsciously or not making you into something akin to a lap-dog, never meant to take a part in the countless meetings and private conversations you’re unceremoniously dragged into; always present yet never needed. You fit in quite well with the two of them, he has to admit, with all the blue hues and Fontaine-style clothes she forces you into, though to be fair you’ve always been quite attractive in his eyes.

He tells himself it’s for her sake, after all, hasn’t the woman suffered enough? Years of anguish can’t be erased but maybe your company can help her process of healing, that is quite the logical reasoning, right? But the truth is he’s always been a little too happy to babysit you whenever Furina leaves you in his office on the rare occasions she’s forced to part with you, he is one of the few people she trusts to take care of her beloved. He can’t lie and say he doesn’t see what it is about you that has so helplessly charmed his companion, everyday he spends with you he feels himself understanding her more and more.

He’s heard companions help soothe loneliness and he doubts Furina would put too much of a fuss if he asked to share, not after everything they’ve been through together.

[yestrday]

— YANDERE! MALEWIFE! GENSHIN AU part one | two | three | four

⇢ alhaitham, kaveh, tighnari, cyno

introducing ! at the altar decorated by the blooming lotus flowers, your wrist is bound to your husband with a red string and a promise of togetherness. while the people dance and sing in celebration of the newlywed, his eyes are on you and you only— possessive through and through, even in parabandhana.

[ surpriseeeeeeee yea you did not expect this did you yeah neither did I. i just sat on my computer and decided to be productive. also did not include baizhu and mika for now cuz I got lazy. ]

warning ! yandere behavior, drúgging, manipulation, mentions of locking you away and múrder

— ADMONISHING INSTRUCTION. alhaitham | الهيثم

[ “sure, sure, i’ll clean up after you go. hm? i’m not being lazy at all, just enjoying my peace and quiet.”] 

⇢ my boy is living the dream life. no nosy seniors, demanding bosses, and curious co-workers. just him and his hardworking partner and the freedom to do his research at his own time. when you’re around, he tends to slack off (though he denies it) but he does his part of the chores anyway, so you don’t really have any complaints. he’d already been living the cushy life before, but now this lifestyle is more than comfortable.

⇢ he helps you out with your work when he sees you struggling, and he lets you use him as a soundboard to work out solutions. sometimes even lets you complain. keyword: sometimes. most of the time he’ll distract you with a movie or just bring you to the bed so the two of you can read a book together. unfortunately, his tolerance towards whining is very low (reminds him too much of a certain blonde), but he still loves you enough that he’s willing to let your stress out through other means.

⇢ marriage seems to have made him a bit of a romantic, though he’ll tell you that he’s stayed the same as he was when he was still your boyfriend. whenever you’re squinting at your computer screen in frustration, you’ll be caught offguard when he presses a tender kiss to your temple and sets down a mug of coffee next to you. or while you’re talking about something or another as you eat, he’ll clasp your hands in his and press a chaste kiss to each knuckle. these gestures has you blushing and stammering all the time, reverting you back to the naive student you were when you met him. this makes him a bit smug, so you often hit him in embarrassment.

⇢ he would never look down at you. marrying you means he has acknowledged you his equal, and to be fair he doesn’t really have a habit of looking down on others. however, when he sees some pesky flies fly a bit too close, he often gets too full of himself. someone trying to smooth talk you at the cafe? haitham’s not one for pda, but he’ll wrap a sturdy bicep around your waist and watch as the poor thing trembles from his gaze. 

⇢ haitham doesn’t always tell you this, but he admires you for a lot of things. but sometimes you get a bit too… irrational, and he knows that he has to be the one to bring you down sometimes. you’re not a kid, so you should know better. besides, haitham’s always been the more rational between the two of you. sometimes bordering on…heartless, but you never tell him that. you don’t have the heart to.

⇢ he’s often the decision-maker, most of the time not even asking you what you want. he says it’s not about want, he has to take the rational decision for the both of you. you’ve always been a little… dull. it’s an endearing trait, but it’s something that has to go away as you both age. he sees the hurt flash in your eyes when he tells you this, and he thinks he can make up for it with a gentle kiss between your pretty eyes. he loves you like his equal, really, but sometimes (most of the time) you need a good talking down to.

“so you’ll continue to let your brother exploit you, despite everything he’s done to you in the past?” haitham shuts his book and stares at you with a seemingly bored gaze. “you know you don’t need to give them that solicitation, right? he’s not worth it.”

“it– it’s not about him, haitham, believe me!” you plead with him. “i’m, i’m doing this for his wife, okay? she doesn’t deserve to deliver a baby in his dingy apartment with no professionals around. it’s not fair! just because my brother was a díck doesn’t mean she deserves the cold shoulder too! have some compassion for once!” he rolls his eyes and gets up, towering above some good inches. his eyes look down at you, but his hand rests heavy on your shoulder as if trying to calm you down. “it’s not about compassion, dear. it’s about being rational. once your brother sees you softening, he’ll start asking for more and more and more and well, we know what kind of person you are.” you open your mouth to retort, but he shakes his head. “you’re too soft, [y. name]. chasing around the affection of others… you don’t have to do that anymore.”

[ “this is for the both of us. i’m sure you can’t tell now, but sooner or later, you’ll thank me.” ]

— EMPYREAN REFLECTION. kaveh | کاوه

[ “you’re the — hic!— the best thing’s that ever happened to me! of– of course i’m crying! i’m not heartless!” ] 

⇢ for kaveh, your marriage was both a blessing and a cause of distress to him. a blessing, of course, because what sane man would not want to get married to you! his darling, light of his life, the one who tolerates his flaws more than any other person on teyvat! but at the same time, he can’t just let you shoulder his burdens! he can’t give you the luxury you deserve to have, you don’t deserve to be saddled with his debt, it’s– it’s just not fair!

⇢ with kaveh’s sense of aesthetics and talent for architecture, you two will have the prettiest home around! it is a must for this architect to gift you with the prettiest home you’ve ever laid eyes on. sure, he can’t give you the grandiose mansion that you deserve even with both of your savings joined, but a master architect will make the most of what he has. this is the place where he’ll make memories with you, where you’ll grow a family and your chi… children (?!??!!!!) will live. it has to be as beautiful as you.

⇢ complains like you’d never believe. he’s always been chatty, but he gets even chattier after a disagreement with a client or a run-in with a certain someone or when he hears whispers of your horrendous workplace. to anyone else, his overdramatic flair might be a bit too much to handle, but you can’t help but listen with amusement as your husband drones on and on and on and embellishing his rants with over-the-top remarks. nevertheless, in the case that you do get weary, just press a kiss on his lips— it will surely leave him an incoherent mess in no time.

⇢ a bit too eager for your praise. it’s not like people don’t praise him all the time, but it’s only your approval that he cares for. when he makes a meal that he’s proud of, he’s squirming nervously in the seat across you as he watches you take bite after bite. when he finished his part of the chores, he tends to be a bit clingy with you as he tries to fish for compliments. it’s your choice to cave in so easily or play around with him, but when you do utter a compliment, know that you’ll be left with a gooey pile of mush cuddling into you.

⇢ on the other hand, kaveh absolutely cannot handle fights with you. fighting is a normal thing between couples, but he gets so absolutely wrecked it’s unreal. your look of disappointment, the glare you gave him, the fed-up sigh when you push him away and say that you need some time away from him… they all drive him insane. he curses himself, wondering why’d he have to go and open his stupid mouth and fuck everything up. you’re not wrong, never wrong, and it should be him to take the blame. the longer the fight, the more his wellness and self-confidence cracks. it’s a common sight to see him groveling on the ground, for your forgiveness, begging for you to notice him again. the sight is so pathetic that you can’t bear to look away.

⇢ the most insecure husband to ever exist and grows even worse with every fight you two might have had in the past. anyone who approaches you has him tensing up and tightening his grip on you, but a raised brow from you has him reluctantly loosening his grip and shamefully looking away. he’s plagued with thoughts of you leaving (because why would you stay with a wreck like him?) and overthinks every friendly gesture you give towards anyone who isn’t him (is that how you smile with someone who isn’t a complete fool?). he’s a pushover and craves your love and attention the most. if you love being an asshole and having someone completely around your finger, there’s no perfect husband to get more than kaveh.

“kaveh…” you start hesitantly, brows furrowed as you put a hand on his shoulder. “kaveh… there’s really no need for you to do all this.” but despite your gentle words, it only makes kaveh flinch and bury his weeping face even more into your chest. “i’m sorry, i’m sorry, i’m sorry,” he keeps whispering with a voice ragged from the amount of apologies he’s repeated. “i won’t do it again. whatever i’ve done please just forgive me. i can’t, i can’t stand it!” he looks up at you and that pretty face of his is ruined with tears. “please come back to me. you don’t have to sleep at that inn anymore. i can’t handle you not being with me anymore.” your grip on his shoulder tightens, and your expression seems to twist between a grimace and guilt. the only reason you stayed at an inn was because you were a coward, and you couldn’t handle watching kaveh break down as he beats himself up for a mistake that you caused. this fight was your fault to begin with, but the only one ruined was the innocent one. “i… i forgive you, dear,” you hushedly whisper, with the audacity of a man who did nothing but take advantage. “i forgive you. no matter what you’ve done.” and when he brightens up and smiles so prettily, your heart squeezes in your chest as he pulls you into a kiss sweeter than you deserve.

[ “wh… what are you apologizing for…? there’s no need to look at me like that…! you can blame me all you like!” ]

— VERDANT STRIDER. tighnari | الطغنري

[ “once again, i told you not to eat your boss’ baking! no, i don’t care if they looked nice! they. are. poisonous!” ]

⇢ he’s more at ease now that he doesn’t have to tolerate idiots who think eating poisonous mushrooms recklessly count as experiments or co-workers who tell him stupid jokes all the time. it’s a less stressful environment now… at least, that’s what he thinks. so why do you keep coming home barely alive?! you’ll find tighnari fussing over you and nagging at your office’s poor working environment.

⇢you’ll have the prettiest garden in the whole neighborhood, if not the whole world! the research data he can acquire from the plants in his backyard is limited, so it’s mostly a hobby of his. of course, he doesn’t just grow whatever there! there’s tons of medicinal herbs growing there and there’s a shed you both built where he can experiment wherever he likes. whenn you’re off work, you like to idle the time away in the garden while tighnari is hard at work on another of his concoctions. simply admiring his focused face is enough to put the stress of work behind you, and you think it’d be prettier if you tucked a flower behind his ear. but you never learn, do you? he launches off to another lecture about why you shouldn’t pluck flowers thoughtlessly while you daydream about his pretty face.

⇢ please please please don’t bring him to any work parties, lest you want to see the entire world burn. he still has that dry sarcasm that you oh so love, but he’s ruthless when it comes to your boss and your more unpleasant co-workers. if any of them try to act chummy with you, he immediately raises a brow and gives them the side-eye. he combats whatever fake-ass comment they have with a dry retort, leaving you panicking and trying him to stop it. but no one stops tighnari in verbal combat, and before long he’s revealed your boss’ and co-workers' vulnerabilities and have them deflating like a balloon.

⇢ tighnari always knows how to make the perfect brew, his teas always the perfect blend of both taste and remedy. it’s too bad though, that you always fall asleep before you can manage to finish a single pot. whenever you awake from a tea-induced slumber, your body feels strangely heavy but you can’t complain about the sleep. your husband is always the first thing you see from these naps, his fluffy tail wrapped around your legs and his big eyes staring intently at your face.

⇢ whenever he mixes in the drugs in your food or tea, tighnari’s tail swishes back and forth as he begins thinking of your cute expressions while you’re half-sober. sometimes he doesn’t put the usual dose and instead just halves it, just to see you flailing to get a grip on your senses and reaching out to your oh-so-innocent husband for help. he often chastises himself for this… dirty behavior, but the devil in his mind gleefully reminds him that this counts as research. the test subject just happened to be his trusting partner for life.

⇢ tighnari isn’t above imprisonment. it’s less for the thought of protecting you and more for his personal benefit. he likes to tell himself this is strictly research, but he can’t deny the awestruck look on his face as he greedily eats up every expression of your drugged face. when you grasp onto his clothes and lean on him for support… it makes him shudder with delight. you’re so cute when your system is laced with drugs, and even cuter when you look at him like he’s your entire world. he wants you to rely on him… and in turn, he wants to abuse that over reliance.

“you look better like this,” he murmurs as he brushes your freshly bathed hair. your figure is slumped in your chair like a doll, which isn’t far from the truth from how he handles you like one. he holds you gently, like porcelain, but you don’t react. you are too knocked out from the dose he had slipped into your tea awhile ago. he leans into your face, tutting at the dark circles under your eyes. “look at this… clear neglect of your health. i keep telling you to sleep, but you never listen to me, do you?” he sighs before focusing his attention back to your hair. “you’re so stubborn sometimes, you know. i barely know what to do with you.” he spends the next few moments in silence, rubbing cream into and ointments into your face. you smell slightly of lemongrass now, thanks to the bath he’s given you. tomorrow when you wake up, you will marvel at the softness of your skin and the clearness of your mind, before you throw yourself into another week of overwork. like always. tighnari regrets giving you the sleeping drug now. maybe he should’ve added a dose of the aphrodisiac drug he’s just finished. with the way his feline eyes zero into your blissful face and the eager swaying of his tail, he can just barely hold himself back now.

[ “aaah, i’ve run out of your meds again. oh, don’t you worry, i’ll make you some more. it’s nice how your body is so… receptive to my medicine ♡” ]

— JUDICATOR OF SECRETS. cyno | κύων 

[ “... we’re married… …what? i honestly didn’t think i’d come this far.” ]

⇢while there’s no other man you could imagine to spend the rest of your life with, you’re inwardly groaning about the amount of dad jokes you have to put up with later on in life. sure, you love cyno’s goofy lil personality, but you think you can only take too many stupid jokes before you go crazy. you voice this concern to cyno, who just gives you a reassuring hand on your shoulder and says he can handle you just fine if you do. you’re not quite sure what this implies.

⇢ quite sulky, but he refuses to own up to the fact. sometimes you get a little distracted with one of the neighborhood children, start chatting up one of the kind neighbors, or meet one of your co-workers. you tend to get a little bit distracted by them, and while cyno believes that he’s not overly bothered by this, he admits that he is a little bit miffed about you not paying attention to them. he also gets pouty when work starts taking up of your time and you start to neglect him, so expect him to just shut the laptop close and demand you to eat dinner with him without rushing to get your job done. 

⇢ he used to scare the neighborhood kids away with just one look and you always had to comfort him and pat him on the back in sympathetic understanding. “maybe you’ll get them next time,” you had joked, handing him an ice cream as he sulked on the park’s bench. “one of your jokes should do the trick.” you really shouldn’t have suggested that, because after another trip to the park he stared those kids down with his same stoic expression and cracked one of the corniest jokes known to man. every kid looked at him like he was stupid. now no one takes him seriously. well, at least they like playing with him now???

⇢ overprotective, like over overprotective. he knows you can handle going outside the house on your own, and hell, he might have no qualms with your workplace. but the more you complain, the more paranoid he gets until he’s staking out the site for himself. touchy co-workers? cruel bosses? he could easily have their corpses fed to the dogs. he is a protector of justice, after all, and what is justice but not killing those who lay a hand on their partner?

⇢ it’s not very easy to just push him over the edge, but he can and has the will to lock you away. it’s the modern world, no one’s going to have it out for a salary worker slaving day in and out for a corporation, but still. he’s made plenty of enemies when he was still in the force and there’s a paranoia eating at him whenever you go out of the front door. when he does lock you away, he’s as gentle as he can be, even with the stench of blood all over him. this is all for your sake after all, and he couldn’t bear to see you hurt when he had the power of protecting you.

“cy,” you huff in exasperation, looking up from your laptop as he glares down at you from behind it. “what in the world are you talking about? they’re my co-worker, my superior. you can’t just tell me to stop talking to them. i need their help!” “what help could you possibly need from them when you have me?” he huffs back, crossing his arms. “i’m telling you. they’re dangerous. i… i just know it, okay?” “what could a retired general possibly know about handling excel sheets?” when his face falters, you sigh and shut the laptop closed. “look, i know you just want to protect me and i appreciate that, really. but come on, cy, don’t be unreasonable.” the pressed line of his lips tells you that he has something against being called that, but you press on. “the company does background checks on their employees. it’s safe, i promise.” you press a kiss on his cheek and smile at him. “sit here and calm yourself down, okay? i’ll handle dinner tonight.” he watches your back as you disappear into the kitchen, humming a bright tune that offsets the stormy look in his eyes. he could tell you all about his time in the workforce— the violations he’s made, the blood on his hands, and the enemies he’s made— but he won’t. not if it means breaking this beautiful life he’s created with you. but that’s okay, that’s fine. he’s been trained to adapt to the situation and to work with the shadows.

[ “even if you don’t have a care in the world… i’ll be right behind you. wherever. whenever.” ]

[teabutmakeitazure]

Coincidental Smiles and Hard Working Humour

How the Yan Genshin boys react to a genuine laugh from you and try to dig for more

Characters included: Childe, Diluc, Zhongli, alhaitham, Pantalone

------

Childe: Going to the kitchen first thing after waking up and seeing him half covered in flour with his hair ruffled up like he just got hit by electro did wonders on your brain. The sight of him disheveled and disorderly had made you chuckle, the bubbles of laughter slowly turning into giggles. Childe watches you with eyes as wide as saucers as he remains frozen where he stands, saucepan in hand. The sound of your laughter echoes in the kitchen, and you briefly clutch your stomach during your unguarded moment. Watching you pour out such joyous sounds makes Childe's brain hyperactive and he tries his best to get into circumstances similar to that. He messes up his shirt's buttons and goes to you, asking you to fix them for him. He purposely lets his hair dry all weird so that you could see how funny it looks. He even goes to the length to make up some puns in his head, but that horribly backfires when you mockingly gag. Childe tries his absolute best to make you laugh again all the while going to sleep with the memory of that heavenly sound replaying in his head over and over again.

Diluc: Dawn Winery is no stranger to nature. There's crystalflies, grapes, carrots, potatoes, the occasional boars and your favourite, the resident cats. Having recently befriended a mother and her three kittens, you often sneak out to the vineyard to find them. Diluc is obviously aware of the little rendezvous that frequently occurs but takes no action since, well, you come back inside out of fear anyway. Plus, the staff in the vicinity always keeps a close eye and Diluc himself, when at home, watches. So when he hears you giggle from around the corner as he hides in the shadow of the estate wall, he is enchanted. Not because he's never heard you laugh before, no no. It's because of how genuine it is. He peaks out of curiosity and sees three kittens climbing on top of you with different angles all the while one licks your cheek. More sounds of laughter from you put Diluc in a kind of spell, and he finds himself slowly taking steps towards you. Naturally, blood drains from your face when you see him towering over you. Diluc feels guilty when you go as silent as a mouse, but ends up bringing the cats inside to dig up more smiles from you. Can't say competing with them for your attention was easy but hey, it's a small price to pay.

Zhongli: The harbour is bustling with business during the evening hours. Working people leaving for home and grabbing necessities on the way back and children playing by the docks during the rush hours just to hurry back home when it gets dark. While the ex archon thought you would be interested in shopping, it seemed that the youngsters of Liyue Harbour had been your point of interest all along. You had slipped away when he was analysing which hairstick would suit you better, and though Zhongli would usually be worried, he is aware that there's no place you may run off to. Thus, him being perfectly fine with you roaming about. However, had Zhongli known that you would be engaging the children in different games with so much laughter and joy, he would have let you go sooner. As he stood there, watching with a smile, only one thought crossed his mind. Perhaps you would display the same joy if you had children of your own, right?

Alhaitham: The Akademiya can be... ruthless, even for the feeble scholar. The other day, alhaitham, absolutely sleep deprived, had fallen asleep while drinking his morning coffee and while he would have thought that you'd leave him be, you actually took the mug from his hand and placed it on the counter to avoid any spills. Alhaitham's lack of sleep haunted him for a few more days and on one fine morning had fallen asleep while doing paperwork. Being someone who avoids his attentive stare in the mornings, it had been a few hours later that you had exited the bedroom for breakfast. It would certainly not be an exaggeration to claim that seeing the acting grand sage sleeping on the sofa with his coffee mug empty and the beverage spilled onto the floor is in any way, shape or form reassuring for Sumeru's future. However, catching sight of the little amount of drool spilling from his lips had caused you to erupt into a fit of giggles, waking up the sleeping man. Maybe you should atone for your transgression with offering yourself as a pillow.

Pantalone: The Regrator's job is a stressful one. There are idiots of all types present everywhere and are far too much of a nuisance. Pantalone had summoned you into his home office in an attempt to catch a well deserved break from being hunched over paperwork, but when you had walked in, he didn't even so much as look up from his desk, scowling at the papers haphazardly scattered about. Having to witness such a stoic and composed man scowling and glaring at papers all the while muttering something about 'buffoons' and 'imbeciles' had made you stop in your tracks, suppressing a smile. It was when he had made a disgusted face before grabbing an abacus that you couldn't hold in a chuckle. The sound morphs into laughter, and Pantalone freezes on the spot, head slowly rising to look at you. Seems like today is a blessed day.

[cheesecakethots]

university playboy childe, who you swear you see more times fighting outside or flirting with anything that has legs than actually in class.

that is, until he’s seated next to you in one of your classes, much to your disappointment. suddenly he wants to learn. his parents pay for his tuition, and are rich enough that whatever he does can be wiped away by the heads of the university. it drives you insane.

he enjoys messing with you, finding the expression on your face utterly delectable whenever he manages to get a rise out of you.

at first, it was only for a dare. you were cute, but extremely nerdy and reserved. him and his friends thought it’d be good for a laugh if he managed to have you opening your legs for him.

he realises he’s in too deep when he starts fantasising about you at night, despite the fact that he hasn’t even seen an inch of your body beneath the clothes you wear. he starts wondering what you’d wear if he took you out on dates, how you’d act, what you’d blush to.

you soon start to become begrudgingly accepting of his presence in your life, and then you actually start to like him, despite the fact that your other friends warn you to steer clear and avoid him.

after enough time, he eventually manages to get you into his bed. you spend a lot of time oooing and aahing at his house before he can get there, but the wait is worth it.

god. he starts to wonder whether he’s in love with you when the deed is done, and you’re lying next to him in bed, fast asleep. he’s not sure if he’ll ever be able to sleep with anyone else again, after that. he’s not sure if he wants to let you go so easily.

you’re not next to him when he wakes up in the morning, instead quietly getting changed with the clothes that have been thrown on his floor. he thinks that maybe he should put you in one of his shirts.

his arms wrap around you from behind, and he presses kisses to your neck. you laugh, lazily pushing him off and continuing to put on your clothes.

“why don’t you stay?” he asks, seating himself back on the bed, his head tilting and a lock of messy ginger hair falling over one of his eyes. he grins wolfishly, “i can make it worth your whileeee…”

“you don’t need to do all this.”

his smile falters a little. “hm? do all what, baby?”

you giggle, “and you don’t have to call me that. i know this was only for a dare.”

he stands again, feeling his heart start to pound, “no, no, it’s not, i-“

you raise an eyebrow, “i’m not stupid, ajax.”

he’s lost for words, but you’re not.

“don’t worry, i’m not mad. i mean, i used you so i could stop being a virgin, in all honesty. i didn’t expect anything of it. oh! but if you want to tell your friends that i’m hung up over you, i won’t be mad either. see you around!”

your hand falls on the doorknob, but when you pull it doesn’t open. huh? you glance back at him quizzically. when did he lock it?

“i’m sorry. it was for a dare, but it’s not anymore. i’m in love with you,” he admits, his expression more serious than anything you’ve ever seen of him.

something in his eyes freaks you out, and you laugh awkwardly, “alright, the jokes over, unlock the door, i really have somewhere i need to-“

“no,” he says, moving closer to you, until he’s backed you up against the door, “you’re not leaving.”

your friends were right. you should’ve avoided him, after all.

[jymwahuwu]

When I was picking up starfish for Neuvillette, I was illuminated by a light outside the Fortress of Meropide and automatically taken back to prison💀💔 So I'm thinking about the story of the reader trying to escape by diving and being caught by Wriothesley🥴

CW: yandere, abuse of power, non-con, escape failed, non-consensual spanking

Just today. You can escape, now or never.

You've bribed one of the guards, using all the credit coupons you earned from working in the cafeteria. He quietly brings you a set of diving equipment from outside and briefly teaches you how to use it. He's on duty today. On this day, this day only, you can take advantage of the laxity and loopholes in the guards to escape. For the past few days, you had been submissive and radiant in front of Wriothesley, warming his cock for hours. He promised to give you a day off. You can walk around the Fortress of Meropide and chat with people, or you can just sleep and read, write, munch delicious breads and desserts. It's up to you.

And you use it to escape from prison.

You were sent to the Fortress of Meropide for some ridiculous crime… or maybe even something you didn't do at all. It only took three days from the accusation to the conviction. The members of gardes somehow searched your home for "evidence of guilt". The testimonies of the witnesses all subtly accused you, as if a strange net fell from the firmament. You tried to argue and analyze the irrationality of these logics, but tears and logic… were all useless. This ordinary trial, devoid of drama, ended quickly. They escort you to an underwater prison, where you are exiled in full view of the public.

"Mmm, raise your head and let me see you."

Your eyes widened, recognizing him, a customer you met when you worked part-time in the teahouse. He helped you deal with a customer who was harassing you. Dressed in work clothes, you introduced him to new refreshments, giggling at his witty remarks. He always comes on the same afternoon, orders tea and dessert, and sits quietly, waiting to talk to you.

Once, he asked you whether the sun was so bright outside the water, and whether the people at the top of the water were the same as you. You were confused by his question at that moment.

A confession changes something. Such a peaceful life continued until one day, he hinted whether he would be lucky enough to go on a date with you, but… you had not thought about establishing any romantic relationship with the guest. Unexpectedly, the customer just nodded, kissed the back of your hand and left.

(Underwater. Inexplicable charges and sentences.) The mind is buzzing, and those clues and emotions are flooding into you. You have some understanding of what's going on-

"…It's you. It's you who is framing me…"

"I don't know what you're talking about." He smiled - with confidence and teasing. "But falsely accusing me will only make your crime worse."

You bit your lip, shaking, tears falling.

Your cell is somehow quite close to Wriothesley's office. He summons you to his office at any time, puts you on his lap, or presses on you at night. You want to resist. Once, you yelled at him in the cafeteria. Wriothesley just held your waist with one hand, took off your underwear, and slapped your exposed and swollen butt. Other prisoners were frightened.

You arrived at the appointed location, and the guard nodded to you. You prepare to put on your diving gear, but your thoughts spread like tree roots - When will Wriothesley realize you're missing? What will he do? Where can you go...Mondstadt? Sumeru is closer, but there are Matras there. They may be working with Fontaine...Wriothesley...He...

However, these are not worth mentioning in the face of freedom. You can't hide your current smile, the joy of freedom dances on the tip of your tongue, urging you to take steps forward. Beautiful sunshine. Market. The sound of people talking. The steam from the machine when brewing tea. Detective novels and newspapers. You will be able to have these again, even if you can't appear openly anymore, but it doesn't matter, anything is better than an underwater prison and a large factory.

Anywhere is better than here…

The moment you were about to dive-

a pair of arms grabbed you.

You started screaming almost immediately, broke into a cold sweat from fear, and struggled like a fish out of water without even looking at who the person behind you was. You just want to dive into the sea, but those arms are unexpectedly strong - just like when he pulled you into his arms and kissed your lips countless times. No room for rejection.

"Hey-hey, calm down, okay? Stop." He takes off your diving equipment. What Wriothesley said was like you were losing your temper, not that he was using a trick to force you to stay with him. You turned around and met his gray pupils, crying. The man still smiled and patted your head, "there there…" But as soon as he finished speaking, you found that the guard you bribed was being subdued and pinned to the ground.

"Take him away. Inform Neuvillette." He said coldly.

The guards received the order, saluted, and then forcibly escorted him away.

"…W-when did you know?" He wrapped his arms around your waist, allowing you to sniffle and whimper. You just want to ask this, to know how much you've been predicted. Does he laugh inside when he sees you being so well-behaved…? Wriothesley paused for a moment, as if he was considering how to reply, not wanting to hurt your pride. "…Is it important?"

"I want to know."

"I told you, I know everything that's going on here, the difference is whether I want to take action or not." He placed a kiss on your forehead. "I'll use the belt later, by the way."

[tnsophiaonly]

Uh just a thought:

cw: yandere, cussing, bad grammar, scara being scara, Childe is Childe, fatui, blood is mentioned at least 1 time

Imagine a Y/N\Reader who does everything for their family, so like your brother/sister/mother/father anyone you love!! got super sick and the cure for it is expensive as hell! (8,765,432,765 mora)

So you work for the fatui to get better expenses, you were skilled enough to immediately be recognized by your superiors—ahem, harbingers— and the first one to recognize you was Childe. Childe is just so down bad for you, he loves fighting with you, anything that gets your attention, if he could, he'd always have you by his side when he does missions.

And there's this thing, your fellow friend (who's been to the fatui far longer than you) in the fatui had a gambling habit and would make bets. One time they talked about giving away millions of mora to whoever gets to be The Balladeer's secretary and survive for 3 months.

You, eager for the mora, you immediately did too well, acted like you were obsessed with him to amuse him, did so many things to the point of getting Scaramouche's attention, he finally made you his assistant.

Of course Childe is pissed as fuck. How dare this midget get you before him??!!

At first Scara was just humoring your fake obsessive behavior just for entertainment, telling himself he'd throw you away soon and laugh at your fake reactions.

3 months passed and Scaramouche started humoring another fatui agent in an attempt to get you to break and snap and make you jealous, you used that opportunity to slowly part ways from him. He took a whole week to notice how you were basically disappearing from his life. You didn't leave the work though, you did the remaining paperwork and missions before disappearing.

Scaramouche who slowly notices the difference in his life when you left, you left a great impact in his life. This new fatui agent he humors doesn't do as well as you do, they keep fucking up to the point that Scara doesn't find it funny anymore. Yeah, he admits, your perfectionist personality helped a lot in his work, you were boring yeah, but at least you got the work done! After yelling and punishing the fatui agent for fucking up again, Scara grits his teeth and walks out to cool himself down.

But that's where he saw you sparring with Childe. Childe is out here feeling gleeful that you were finally back to him, while you just went back to him because you are an agent under him.

The sparring ended with Childe winning, you almost won, but Childe was stronger as expected, he walked up to you and almost gave you a kiss before you pushed him away, shocked. Childe frowns, he keeps you caged in his arms, he doesn't care about the dirt, blood, snow, and sweat that mixes when he has you in his arms, what matters is you.

Scaramouche, gritting his teeth in anger and getting more frustrated and annoyed than ever—why is that obedient pet of his with Tartaglia?— he's mad.

You felt that cold and electric glares sent to you, you nudge your head and saw Scaramouche watching the both of you hug with a blank face, fffuck. You were not supposed to be seen by Scaramouche.

And Childe notices it too, he smirks and holds you closer, nuzzling his cheek on your hair.

Scaramouche was about to rush into both of you and demand an explanation, but why does he care? He isn't supposed to care about something like this! He always said he could replace you anytime, but he never said you could replace him.

I want to add more harbingers to this thought, imagine Columbina and Arlecchino 😻

[unearthly-doting]

finding their soulmate: genshin edition.

a/n: i haven't made a post here in a hot second and i honestly apologize about that lol. the motivation to write just hasn't been there but!! here's a small lil genshin post for now. i just spun a wheel to pick who i write but if u want me to write for some of the others then just lmk!!

includes: xiao, kaeya, kujou sara, albedo, tartaglia, and ayato.

warnings: mdni, yandere content, not edited, gn reader, kidnapping, forced relationships, arranged marriage, manipulation, reader injury in both kujou sara's, albedo's and tartaglia's parts, childe stabs you :peace sign:, canon is a very vague concept in my writing more often than not btw, this is kinda cringey </3, the yandere content in albedo's part is actually very mild bc i was restraining myself bc there was a lot i wanted to do w it.

XIAO — never really cared much about finding his soulmate. His entire existence was dedicated to protecting Liyue, even if the nation no longer needed his protection. Besides, with how long he's been around, he just assumed his soulmate was long dead and that he'd never meet them. Though, a small part of him wondered... what was his soulmate like?

And, almost as if the universe had been listening, he ends up meeting you. His soulmate. It wasn't a classic, romantic meeting. He didn't save your life or anything like that. You were just a traveler who decided to stay at the inn.

He didn't think much of you until his eyes met yours and suddenly color was flooding into his world. It made him dizzy, and it stunned him into absolute silence because all he could so was stare at you with wide eyes.

You were clearly going through it as well, because obviously. You just met your fucking soulmate on a damn business trip. What the hell were you supposed to do now? It would be awkward to just... ignore what had happened, right? I mean, he's staring right at you and this was all just very overwhelming.

It was an awkward first meeting, that's for sure.

But during your time at the inn, whenever you were free from work, you spent it with Xiao. He was closed off, clearly keeping his guard up and not letting you get too close. You didn't know the reasons, but you didn't expect him to tell you his entire life story just because you two were apparently bound by the universe.

Honestly, you just assumed he didn't want to be with his soulmate. This didn't upset you. It wouldn't work out, anyway. You're only staying for a few weeks before heading home.

But archons, did Xiao want you. Behind his typical, distant behavior, Xiao was taking note of everything about you. Your interests, your habits, your sleep schedule, your favorite foods and desserts... everything you told him or subconsciously revealed, Xiao was tucking it away in his mind.

He wanted you. He wanted you to stay here, in Liyue, with him. Where you belong. But he didn't know how to express that. He's never been in love before, and it's not like he'll just suddenly become an expert at romance after meeting you.

When it was time for you to leave, he was crushed. He needed you to stay. He needed you by his side. Letters wouldn't be enough to fill the emptiness in your wake if you left. You had to stay.

You will stay.

And when you wake up to find yourself no longer in the inn, and instead in some small home deep within the mountains of Liyue, you're distraught.

Xiao looks genuinely guilty, robbing you of your freedom but... you understand, don't you? You have to understand. He just couldn't let you go. You're his soulmate, you were destined to be with him! You'll love it here, he'll make sure of it.

Just stay.

KAEYA — had always wondered what his soulmate was like ever since he was a child. He would spend hours just staring at the small crescent moon forever stained on his wrist, wondering if and when he'll meet the person with a matching mark.

Of course, as he got older he spent less time thinking about such things, though he did always hold out hope that he might be able to one day meet his soulmate. Little did he know, he's met his soulmate already. Multiple times.

You took over Sara's shifts at the Good Hunter whenever she had other things she needed to focus on, so Kaeya has spoken with you on numerous occasions, he's just never realized you were his soulmate because you keep your wrists covered. He's not one to judge, his wrists aren't visible either.

Him finding out was an accident. You had been handing him his order when your sleeves rolled up a bit, and his gaze just so happened to look at your wrists and he saw the very same crescent moon that was on his.

And for a moment, he froze. He just stared. Long enough that you were starting to feel a little uncomfortable. But before you could awkwardly send him on his way, he was showing you the crescent moon on his wrist as well and thus began your love story.

Or... well... it's what Kaeya had hoped for, but you didn't seem interested in soulmates at all. You didn't want the universe to decide who you were meant to be with, you wanted to make that decision yourself, so you had, to put it simply, bluntly rejected him.

And he gets it! It hurts, sure. He spent his entire life dreaming of this day, and it's not turning out the way he had hoped, but... you guys can be friends, at least, right? No strings attached?

For a while, Kaeya was fine with that. You and he had a really strong friendship. He cared about you, and you cared about him. Though your feelings were platonic, he was holding on to the hope that maybe one day, you'll realize you two were meant to be together.

But it was starting to seem as though that day might never come, because almost a year into your friendship with him, you had told Kaeya that you were thinking about entering the dating scene. He was... not too pleased about that, honestly. It was pretty obvious too, the way his entire mood soured the moment you brought the topic up.

He didn't stand by idly while this happened. Any person he saw you chatting up with romantic intentions would suddenly avoid you like the plague the next time you saw them. Any blind dates would end with you being ghosted. Hell, even some of your friends, the ones who were helping you get dates, were starting to avoid you too. It was so confusing.

But not Kaeya. No, Kaeya was always by your side.

Whenever you needed him, he was there. He always seemed to be able to make time for you. He listened to you vent your frustrations out, never once judging you or telling you that you were being dramatic. He was the only constant in your life these days.

Of course, you were completely oblivious to the fact that he was the cause of all of this. It's not that hard to blackmail people, he's learned. But they didn't deserve you anyway, seeing how easily they gave up on you the moment he approached them.

Maybe... maybe dating Kaeya wouldn't be so bad... I mean, you're the one deciding this, right? The universe isn't having any play in it. This is your decision. Isn't it?

KUJOU SARA — never cared about her soulmate. She knew she had one, you were in every dream she had. She found it to be more of a nuisance than anything else.

Her entire life was dedicated to her training, and to the Raiden Shogun. She neither had the time, nor the interest in searching for her soulmate. Besides, it didn't seem as if you resided in Inazuma. Your clothing was similar what people in Fontaine wear, and Fontaine was far away from Inazuma.

She was confident that she wouldn't be meeting you any time soon, so she never gave you any thought when she was awake. She never made any plans on what she would do if she did, by any chance, meet you. It didn't matter.

And she can't help but regret that, now that you're standing in front of her. If she had known that meeting her soulmate would make her feel like this, as if everything in the world suddenly made sense, then... well... she doesn't know what she would've done, to be honest.

No matter, Sara had no time to entertain you. Your stay in Inazuma was only temporary, so she saw no point in trying to form a bond with you. You, however, seemed to have different plans. She was used to seeing you in her dreams every night, but she was not used to seeing you in her waking moments.

Whenever she wasn't preoccupied with something, you were there to offer her company. It was annoying, and she's sent you away more than once, but that didn't seem to deter you. If anything, you seemed to become more determined each time she brushed you off.

At some point, she had given up on avoiding you. It was easier to just let you stick around. And, the more time she spent with you, the more attached she was becoming. It wasn't smart, she knew that, but could you blame her? You're so... irrevocably you.

Her fondness for you didn't go unnoticed.

Many people in Inazuma treated you with the same respect they treated Sara. You were her soulmate, after all. Should someone insult you, they would in turn be insulting her. Nobody wanted to get on her bad side.

There were, however, a few bad apples.

It should come as no surprise that a target was placed on your back the moment people took notice of Sara's attachment to you. She didn't think she'd have to worry much, because no one would be idiotic enough to actually try and harm you under her watch, but she should've known better.

It happened a few days before you were set to leave Inazuma to return home. A disturbance was going on within the city so Sara wasn't with you when you went on your daily walk just outside of it. It was supposed to be safe, but it wasn't.

Some vagrants had got the jump on you, and you nearly lost your life. You were lucky enough to have been found by some bystanders, but Sara was less than pleased when she heard about this. She had never taken pleasure in killing anyone before, but there was a deep-rooted sense of satisfaction deep within her chest when she watched the lives of those who hurt you fade away.

And as she sat by your side, waiting for you to wake up, she came to a decision. You can't be alone. If you are, you'll get hurt, and she won't be able to protect you. She can't let you leave Inazuma. She knows you'll more than likely hate her for making this decision for you, but if it means she can keep you safe, keep you alive and by her side, then... that hatred is something she'll be willing to bear.

ALBEDO — doesn't have a soulmate. At least, he's not supposed to. He's an artificial being, so it wouldn't make sense for him to have a soulmate. Of course, he does find the concept of soulmates to be intriguing. Who, or what, decides who people are destined to be with? It's a question he hopes to find an answer to.

So he wasn't surprised when he found you passed out in the snow, deep within Dragonspine. He's seen this countless times before, travelers who don't take precautions before trying to brave the deadly cold that comes with being here. He assumed he would just nurse you back to health and you would go on your merry way.

That changed, however, when he was cleaning your wounds and he saw his name inked on your skin, right on your collarbone. In his handwriting, at that. It confused him, because... that would mean that he's your soulmate. But he can't be. And yet, it didn't come off when he tried wiping it off. It was a part of your skin.

This left him with many questions, though none of them got answered when you woke up. You couldn't remember much about yourself, other than your name and a few other details. You didn't even know why you were in Dragonspine, or where you were from. You did hit your head pretty badly, judging from the headwound, so that would explain the amnesia, though he's not sure if it was going to be something temporary or not.

You both decided it would be best to just have you stay here until you were able to recover some of your memories and although Albedo wasn't eager to make friends with you, he was grateful for the company. He was incredibly patient with you too, answering any questions you may have had ranging from a multitude of different topics.

And in return, you helped out as much as you could without overexerting yourself and making your injuries worse. You'd make sure to keep his little lab tidy when he was away. You'd help out with some of his experiments too, if he knew you wouldn't get hurt doing so.

All while trying to figure out how he could possibly be your soulmate. He checked over himself. Four times. Your name was nowhere on his body. So why? Why was his name on yours? As much as he hates to admit it, he thinks he may never get an answer to this mystery.

Though... that's not such a bad thing, he thinks. He finds himself enjoying your company more and more with each passing day, the whole soulmate thing rarely even crossed his mind. At least, until you had asked him why his name was permanently etched into your skin. It was fairly easy to explain everything to you, though he was unable to answer a few of your questions, sadly. Soulmates were still a mystery, after all.

And when you asked if you could write your name on him so you two could match, he found himself unable to say no. He found himself unable to speak at all, actually, as you wrote your name on his shoulder. You even added a little heart next to it.

But no, Albedo was too busy coming to terms with the feelings he has for you. They weren't new. He's been aware of them for a week or so now, he just never gave it much thought until now. Now, with you so close to him, it was simply impossible to ignore.

And once you pull away, you smile at him and say, "There! Now I'm your soulmate too, right?" And oh.

Oh.

There was no way Albedo was going to let you leave Dragonspine now.

TARTAGLIA — feels a little bad for his soulmate, whoever they are. They can feel his pain, and he can feel theirs. So... they probably hate his guts, considering he's not the most careful person in the world. He pushes himself to his limits and beyond, and his soulmate has no doubt felt every single second of it.

Don't get him wrong, he would love to meet his soulmate. It's been a dream of his since he was a child, always eager to hear the story of how his mom and dad found out they were soulmates. Even as he grew older, the desire never went away. It was just... buried.

And his soulmate just so happened to be you, the significant other of a man who owed the Northland Bank a lot of money. He doesn't normally partake in debt collections, but he didn't have anything better to do so he decided to take this one on. He was going to use you as an example to your husband, though the moment his blade stabbed you, he froze.

He felt the pain. He stabbed you, and he could feel it. Oh fuck, he just stabbed his soulmate. That's definitely not the picturesque first meeting he was hoping for. Probably wouldn't be a good idea to tell his family this either...

Stabbing aside, he was utterly delighted. You, on the other hand, were terrified. Not only did this man just fucking stab you, his expression went from bored to something akin to crazed glee. He stared at you with a hunger that made you want to shy away from his gaze.

He doesn't care that you're already in a relationship with someone else. Not anymore, you're not. You're his, destined by the stars or however the story goes. And if your lover tries to get you back, he'll just kill them. Easy as that. Absolutely nothing will get in the way of him having you.

And he likes that you fight back against him. He especially loves it when you manage to escape. Hell, sometimes he'll even let you go just so he can chase you down again. It sends a thrill through him like no other when he catches you, and you stare at him teary-eyed and out of breath.

You're always so scared that he'll hurt you, but he would never do such a thing. He treats you like you're royalty, spoiling you with a seemingly endless amount of gifts. You're not quite sure how he knows what you like, and you're too hesitant to ask.

Honestly... he'd probably let you stab him. Y'know, he stabbed you, so it's only fair that you get to stab him in turn, right?

You think not. You're very hesitant, staring at him as though he were insane for even proposing such an idea. A part of him was disappointed. He wanted one of the many scars on his body to be from you. But a much larger part can't help but go soft at the sight of you shaking your head, sternly refusing to hurt him.

If he wasn't obsessed with you before, he certainly was now. You're too good. Too kind. He's holding you captive (lovingly, of course) and you refuse to hurt him? You don't even want to pinch him? How adorable.

Why, if he didn't know any better, he'd think that you might care about him.

He was nothing if not stubborn, of course. You might not care about him now, but you will in the future. He'll make sure of it.

After all, he's spent his whole life waiting for you.

AYATO — never had the time to think of his soulmate. He was blessed (or cursed, depending on who you ask) with the ability to see the red strings that tied people together. When he was younger, before having to take on the duties of the Kamisato name, he would always stare at the one tied to his pinkie.

He even has the habit of twirling the red string around his finger whenever he gets stressed. Only behind closed doors, of course. It would probably appear strange to others if they saw.

Meeting his soulmate was something he had always planned out in his head as a child, and when he finally did meet you, it was so... simple. There was nothing magical about it, you had just bumped into him one day when he was out in the city and that's what started all of this.

For you, it was a forgettable encounter, one that would never cross your mind again. For him, it was everything he had been waiting for. Thoma thought it was a bit strange, but he dutifully gathered information about you when Ayato asked it of him. He needed to know everything there was to know about you.

He already knew what he was going to do when he met his soulmate, the only thing left was to actually do it. And you were definitely shocked when Kamisato Ayato himself showed up at your home and asked you to marry him.

You said no, obviously, because why the hell would you agree to marry someone you didn't know? Ayato had planned for this, of course. That's why he had Thoma learn everything about you, so the moment you declined his offer, he just smiled and made a comment about your family. It was very obvious what he was implying.

And even if you aren't close with your family, you can't live with blood on your hands. You were pretty much forced into accepting Ayato's marriage proposal. He was pleased with this outcome, promising to take care of everything himself.

Marrying him meant that you would, unfortunately, have to leave your home and instead live at the Kamisato Estate. Everyone was under the impression that this marriage was one of love and not coercion. You highly doubt that anyone would believe you if you told them the truth, and you were too concerned about what the consequences would be if you did.

Everyone at the estate was nice to you, at least, though the only people allowed to actually get close to you were Ayaka and Thoma.

And when the wedding was over, it was time for your honeymoon. You were not excited about that, but it seemed Celestia itself was on your side during that time because he was too busy to spend time with you.

If he wasn't threatening the lives of your family, you would have made numerous escape attempts by now. Still, you've made it very clear that you hate his guts.

Your hatred is something he detests, though he can't fault you for it. He understands that what he's forced you into is wrong, but in his mind, it was something that had to be done. He's sure that given enough time and space, you'll grow to understand why he did what he did.

And even though you scorn his existence, Ayato looks at you as if you've placed the stars in the sky.

Your strings are forever tied together, so there's no getting out of this. He doesn't plan on ever letting you go. He'd be a terrible husband if he didn't keep you close, wouldn't he?

[ddarker-dreams]

the word that best describes yan scaramouche is greedy.

he consumes your every waking moment. this is by design — if your respite was to be found outside him, then he'll deprive you of it. it isn't enough for him to reappropriate your future or lord over you in the present. your past is subject to his scrutiny as well. he dislikes that you existed before he entered your life. it's irrational and he knows it, which irritates him to no end. his emotions are loud, cacophonous interlopers that overrule reason. you push him to extremes but he does little to resist the shove.

this version of you, roughly visualized from hearsay, exists beyond his control. all the power in the world couldn't undo your first crush, first kiss, first love. lightning can't transcend the boundaries of space and time to smite those who brought you happiness he can never replicate. you may be isolated from the outside world, unable to rebel against him outright, yet watching you smile over some memory hurts worse than if you were to tear him limb from limb.

how will he ever compare? so long as you know that you deserve better, he'll never have your heart, he'll only serve as its warden. your past is why you hate him, yet your past is why you're you. erasing that would require erasing the person he cherishes most. it's frustrating; it's humbling.

perhaps you'll never physically be free of him. still, your capacity to wish for escape means you'll never belong to him in your entirety.

[harmonysanreads]

Idée Fixe

yandere!lyney x reader

cw(s) : yandere, lyney

wc : 2.6k+

two dorks psychoanalyze each other. might kiss out of spite.

“For as many hearts as you steal, how many do you keep?”

The smooth texture from designed cards is felt across the tips of your fingers, your eyes capture the patterns printed on them through the filter of silvery moonlight and the sound of steps falling in sync with yours assure you of the verity of this encounter.

You don't even need to look up to picture the twinkling amethysts, the widening curve of lips that never convey anything concrete and a sudden bounce in the magician's steps ; the visage painted in your subconscious like the motifs on the cards your fingers fiddle with in intrigue.

The chilly night breeze are but twirls of playful edge,“You make it sound like something else,”

If you cared to look up, you would've noticed the subtle dance of his brows. Lyney begins to walk a step ahead of you in the midst of his short speech, through prolonged scrutiny that'd rival that of the most skilled jeweler's ; you've associated this change of pace to either be in preparation for his usual trickery — or, in the few sparse occasions that go as soon as they come, a casual introduction of another subject to eliminate the previous one. While one could accuse you of reading too much into things, you've long since learned that when it concerns the eccentric magician, the tell-tale details will reveal what he will not.

“Oh really? Perhaps it's your mind imagining insinuations that do not exist, you do have a creative brain.”

“Ouch, only you could insult and praise me in the same sentence.” Lyney places a hand over his heart to cradle it from the jab, though his choice of words should indicate offense, the delivery makes it clear he wouldn't have it any other way.

“Why, thank you, though you're gravely mistaken if you think that will change the subject.” with a swivel of his cape, Lyney spins to walk facing you, his strides (albeit backwards) unchanging in confidence and only when your lift your head to lock eyes, does his expression lighten.

“Well, to answer your question, the ones that are worth keeping, of course.”

The magician chuckles at your eye-roll, “Don't play coy, you know precisely how I meant that question.”

Lyney hums in pretend contemplation, gaze still fixated on your moonlit form, the beat of both of your steps grazing against the pavement and making it seem like a strange parade. Your question holds substance unknown to the rest of the world, but translucent to the magician.

It is both his frustration and delight that you're never bent by his charming words and theatrics. Your firm stare and insistence on the topic confirm his suspicions that you're searching for something particular, something uprooted from the very depths of his soul and he could bet his entire career that you won't stop until you've wrung it out. The answer you seek is nothing he can't give, it'd be simple as well, but precisely due to this knowledge the magician opts instead to test the limitations of your patience.

Truth be told, Lyney never likes it easy and neither do you.

For a miniscule lapse in the boundless confines of time, it's as though both of your world has separated from the existing one. For an amount that'd otherwise be uncomfortable, all exchange is made through your locked eyes. Like a secret shared between no other soul — despite your better judgement, the realization sends a jolt of thrill through your veins and you cannot help but wonder if the magician feels the same.

Seemingly out of thin air, Lyney twirls his magic wand in a wanton pattern, small sparks of light clash with the moon's glow before waltzing past your hair — you pause for not a second, knowing their goal lies in catching you off-guard. If Lyney was given the chance, he'd spend the rest of the night in determining whether you looking back to the cards in your hands was merely an expression of boredom or a brag of how accustomed you are to his theatrics.

Lyney dabbles between the lines of reality and illusion as a profession, blurring them without his audience's notice to make them believe a miracle. It's a simple trick he's succeeded in transforming into an art, so he was confident you'd be privy to the delusion as well. Whether it's due to you doing the same as him or the opposite entirely, Lyney's persistence in solving the puzzle piece named you only grows more tenacious day-by-day.

Sensing the magician's uncharacteristic quietude, you abandon the cards to his backwards marching form and the cheeky grin plastered on his face has you wishing you hadn't at all.

“Ah, but you see, the information you seek is confidential and I fear for prying ears. How about you come a little closer, and I'll tell you the amount?”

Lyney's face is a perfect replica of the grin-malkin cat he adores using as prop, a cloud obscures the moon's vision from seeing the act down earth and the shimmer of Lyney's eyes become pronounced in contrast to the shadow. In comparison, your visage that'd scream ‘preposterous!’ if it could looks nothing short of a circus.

Your steps come to a halt in unison, a breathy chuckle echoes throughout the dead of the night, “Aw, why that face? I don't bite~”

You blink in surprise and suddenly the magician's presence is way too closer than you recall ; he bows down to your ear and the heat of his breath almost makes a shiver run down your spine.

“... but, I might nibble.”

You catch his impish smirk from the corner of your eye and if Lyney notices how you choke in the formation of words, he could snag an award for acting like he didn't.

“Are you that fixated on creating a scandal? Must you always be so shameless?”

At that, Lyney leans away with a pout, hands folded behind his back and swaying back and forth on the heels of his shoes like a reprimanded child.

“Come on now, don't be such a killjoy. I went through all that trouble to whisk you from that boring party and this is how I'm thanked?”

The magician's words are a drawl, each one competing to be more irritating than the last. You have to take a deep breath and hold your tongue from reminding him that the escapade had been without your choice. The world places limitations on all sorts of things and you're not morbidly curious enough tonight to know the extent of the magician's good graces. A beat of tense silence passes, Lyney takes note of your averted gaze and it positively irks him.

Lack of eye-contact means a number of things ; nervousness, insecurity, hesitancy, guilt. For a performer like him whose pride resides in keeping his audience's eyes hooked on his every move, such a gesture is bitter tasting. But when it concerns you, it pricks and wounds his very soul. Lyney's sigh is one of weight and it inclines you to raise your head.

“By asking how many hearts I keep, you hope to know how many matters to me.”

The magician takes his hat off and moves forward to place it atop your head, his speech is not an assumption, nor an inquiry, but a statement. You straighten your posture when you notice the absence of a smile on his face, the sight so alien it has you on edge. While his gesture may be plain to an inexperienced eye, you know that he does it as an extension of his affection. For all the valued items he keeps dangling by the rim of that hat, he surrenders it all to you in a heartbeat.

But you still hold your breath and as expected, the solemn expression of his proves to be transient. Just before the hat grazes your locks, he tips it back, gives the vacancy of its inside an inspecting look and does an emptying gesture as if to prove its.. well, emptiness. There's a flicker in his eyes you're not given the time to catch as he brings his hat just above your head and does the same depleting motion again ; the scent of fresh roses engulf your senses as a thousand petals cascade down from the hat. As if on cue, the winds pick up and waltz them down upon your form.

Here's the thing ; while you may pride yourself in being experienced in discerning Lyney's tricks, it becomes a task to maintain a straight face as he never repeats his previous sleight of hand. What you can try to do instead is search for patterns, patterns reveal genres and genres reveal intentions. Lyney is a celebrated magician of the Court, his capabilities lie far from simple card tricks, so for him to resort to elementary jugglery instead of some grand spectacle, it can only mean he's trying to distract you yet again.

You feel the weight of his hat on your head at last, shifting all the cards on your left hand, you raise your right to adjust its position slightly.

Your encouragement for him to elaborate comes in the form of confirmation, “That'd be correct,”

The magician's lips curve up in fondness, a playful hum escapes him as you resume your walk, him returning to stride facing you again. It's a skill he's mastered in the duration of your acquaintance, for the purpose of stunts apparently. You have your suspicions — but then again, who doesn't when it concerns Lyney?

“Very well. You accuse me of being such a thief, yet, I think you are the guiltier one between us two.” the errant strands of the magician's hair sway, his eyes keep you captive.

He takes the inquisitive tilt of your head as incentive to conclude, “On the topic of hearts and all, I must ask first, when do you intend to return mine?”

The night winds pause, your brain processes Lyney's question until it blanks upon realization. Your eyes dart across his face that is void of all teasing cues, his eyes glazed over and you can tell he's holding his breath. Any consideration of his behavior aligning with trickery is eliminated just as quickly, because if anyone were to want to understand Lyney as intricately as you, they'd first need to learn to be able to distinguish his flirtation from fact.

“... Do I have to?”

You find yourself half concerned and half entertained as the magician narrowly avoids being hit by a pole, him having to maneuver to regain his footing. Both of your steps come to a halt as your laugh echoes throughout the dead of the night. Lyney sheepishly places a hand on the back of his neck but that sight is all too evanescent. The signature smirk of his returns with enthusiasm.

“Not at all,” he purrs, eyes flickering towards your restless ones that have settled on his magic cards again.

“In fact, mold it to your will, toss it to your whim and hold it captive as though it's a supplement of your own, if you may.”

Your ears hang onto each of Lyney's words but your eyes find no courage to look at the mirth that you're certain is plastered on his face, you take the moment to properly inspect the motifs on the cards with some distraction from the shadows of the night : the grin-malkin cat, a miniature Lyney sticking out his tongue, a tea cup, a penguin and—

You're left stupified as the card is abruptly snatched from your grasp, Lyney bounces back a few steps and confirms to be the culprit. You brisk walk to reach the magician and that turns out to be your biggest mistake.

The card is at first held between two of Lyney's fingers, him shaking it left and right in provocation and in the spur of the moment, you take a leap. You feel the wind of the card being propelled upward, the magician holding it out of your reach. Your desire to obtain the piece of paper exceeds your awareness of the sudden decrease in proximity between you both. You shift to your tiptoes and feel the surface of the card, one look through your peripheral at the magician's smile and you realize a little too late that you've fallen right into his trap.

“Now, let's see, the question that started this all : the number of hearts this magician holds dear is the answer to this riddle—”

You expected Lyney to make the card disappear or shift higher if possible, but instead his hand wraps around yours and you find yourself twirled a full circle. The motion catches you off-guard but the magician stabilizes you by placing a firm hand on your waist and pulling you to his eye-level. You find yourself out-of-breath and unable to look away as the moon shines its light on you two again.

“—Placed above, it makes greater things small. Placed beside, it makes small things greater. ” the magician tilts your chin up in his preferred angle with the card, the cool temperature of its margin contradicting the heat of your skin.

“In matters that count, it always comes first.”

The faint rustle of your garbs against his is resounding, your own reflection stares back through amethyst lenses.

Lyney's voice is but a whisper against your cheek as he concludes, “Where others increase, it keeps all things the same. What is it?”

Your frenzied mind momentarily dreads the scenario wherein someone catches you two in the midst of this rendezvous, from incipiency to this apparent climax ; it's built up to be nothing short of scandalous. But the magician has no care for that outcome, inching closer, closer and closer. As if sensing the new wave of worries that fill your mind, he halts but makes no attempt to lean back, his eyes regain their usual shine.

“Quite easy, don't you think? But, if you believe it to be so, you'll be mislead. After all, that is how the simplest magic bewilders the audience. Blink, and you might miss it.”

The magician dives in and your breath hitches. Your eyes are forced open when you feel yourself stumble forward. The first second is wasted with no action, the second one you register that you have the card in your hand — pressed to your lips, on the third you notice the absence of Lyney's presence and the forth brings down all the embarrassment crashing down on your poor heart.

You pull away the condemned card from your lips, heavens know what anyone would think if they saw you kissing a piece of paper in the middle of nowhere. Your face flushes in the lovely shades of pink, heart hammering against your ribcage.

I could've sworn that I felt...!

The magic card crumbles slightly by the edges because of your grip, the prickle of its corners remind you to take deep breaths and calm your raging thoughts. You shake your head with vigour, but you're unsure if it's to recollect the memory or to brush it off. You're left alone to ruminate the aftermath of the bizarre encounter in the cold winds of midnight and you almost want to drown yourself in the darkest depths of the sea as recollections of your reactions rapidly pass through your mind — you can practically hear Lyney's snickers in your head.

Your attention is then grabbed by the catalyst of your current predicament, you turn over the card and finally inspect the motif printed on the card ; two hearts, bounded by a shackle and a lock. You trace your thumb across the hearts and your mind retraces Lyney's cryptic words. If all interactions, encounters and memories you share with the eccentric magician of Fontaine would form a pinnacle for you to see the truth from ; you'd know that behind the veneer of charisma and humor, Lyney hides something far less innocent. And yet, regardless of the foreboding creeping up your spine, you find yourself unable to snap the tether of connection.

Because as it is, that which is mysterious, captivates us all.

may all lyney wanters be lyney havers<3

[throwaway-yandere]

"I Got Reincarnated..." (Yandere SAGAU Otome Isekai!Diluc/Reader) Common Route now available!!!

No need to download! It's a web-based game that should work on mobile too.

The art and overall story are made by yours truly while the OST is created by our beloved @naraven. There are currently 2 CGs and 2 OSTs available, and depending on the reception I might continue beyond the common route since I already have most sprites done <3

This is something I had been pondering about making for a while since my blog has reached it's 2nd year mark so I made this under 3 days. I love you all. Thank you for sticking around. Here's the link to the game. I hope you enjoy it <3.

For context, please read this fic first!

Characters currently present in this short chapter:

Captain Dainsleif, Diluc Ragnvindr, Waitress Alice & Rosaria, Chief Albedo, Prince ???????, Lord Kamisato, and Justice Ajax.

Description:

Greetings, I am Diluc Ragnvindr.  Welcome to Southern Gaciea. Unlike the North, East, and the West, the South is a tourist spot for outsiders. It's a closed off country, so outlanders will need to submit their documents to the department of domestic affairs.  Perhaps you do not remember, but you've encountered many interesting individuals upon your arrival such as…   Captain Dainsleif, the famous Western knight turned retainer for both Prince Lumine and her missing brother, Prince Aether;   Lord Kamisato, the Eastern noble who controls Gaciean trade with just a flick of a wrist;   Chief Albedo, the Head of Domestic Affairs and Chief Alchemist from unknown origins;   Justice Ajax, the unreasonable Northern politician whom I often argue with;  …And, of course, Duke Ragnvindr, the Southern Head of Military Affairs. That would be me.   It's a shame you no longer remember much of our time together, (Y/n). I assure you, I can make you feel at home in this universe. But— you're not planning to leave South Gaciea soon, are you? ♥

Dev note: pssst, you might get some extra dialogue if you put these as your name (more will be added soon cuz that aint all my moots >:((( i need to code more efficiently smh.)

Shiro, Ven, Navina, Mei, Mochi, Ana

[beloved-blaiddyd]

[regency yandere au where Neuvillette doesn't know how to express his affections properly since childhood]

[yestrday]

― YANDERE! GENSHIN ACADEMY AU. pt one | two | three | four | five

⇢ alhaitham, kaveh, tighnari, cyno + ayato, baizhu, mika / gn! reader

introducing! from sumeru hails teyvat's brightest minds, and it's no surprise that many of the academu's smartest are true-blood sumerians. a lesser known fact is that these are less skilled in the workings of the heart, and therefore, a bit more unstable than the average lad.

warning! yandere, obsessive & possessive behavior, unhealthy relationships, master-pet dynamics, mentions of bullying, physical wounds

— STOIC ACADEMIC TYPE. alhaitham | الهيثم

[ “if you’re looking to get my help, i’d rather you just outright say it than dilly-dallying around.” ]

⇢ one of the geniuses in your second year, haitham is a no-nonsense type of guy that has that air of arrogance around him. he’s quite hard to approach, and he doesn’t care to socialize with any of your circles. he has, however, taken a liking to you, and will usually just drag you around whenever he feels like it.

⇢ expect forced study sessions with him in the library. he’s very keen on making sure your grades are in tip-top shape, even though you never asked him for help. it’s obvious that he takes a bit of sadistic pleasure when you ask him for his help. when you ask him on how to solve a problem, he stops whatever he’s reading and scrutinizes you with those stoic eyes, before a small and smug grin forms on his face. sometimes you’re not sure if he truly wants to help you or he just likes to hear you plead and beg.

⇢ kinda likes to see you screw up as well. seeing you excel (because he helped you, after all) is all nice and good, but he likes to see you fumble it every once in a while. sometimes you get a bit arrogant, refusing his help and insisting that you can do it by yourself, only for it to backfire in your face. when you run back to him with your begging and pleading, he puts on a show of being nonchalant about it. didn’t you say you were fine? so why bother him now, and especially in the middle of a good book?

⇢doesn’t hide the fact that he sort of treats you like a pet, with the way he drags you to and fro. his blunt everyday tone makes everyone feel like he’s looking down at them, but even more so with the way he talks to you. stay, he says when you start approaching him. sit, he tells you. whether you follow or not is up to you, and while he does love having an obedient pet, there is some fun to be found in keeping a bratty one.

⇢likes to see you rely on him. is it out of genuine care or because he sees you as a complete fool who can’t do anything on their own, time will tell, but he’s strangely insistent about you depending on him. he doesn’t make it very obvious, especially when he acts like he could give two shits about anything, but when you mention having troubles, he says things like “that is what you’re having trouble with?” without offering his help, you usually start nagging him for the answer.

⇢haitham isn’t one for praise but… he does get a kick off you praising him. not because he’s starved for it (he’s had heaps of that ever since he showed his academic prowess) but because it felt just right. he does help you a lot, doesn’t he? taking the time out of his busy day to help you with whatever silly thing you need. the least you could do is thank him for it.

[ “honestly, you ought to be more grateful with how much i’m always helping you.” ]

– PASSIONATE TYPE. kaveh | کاوه

[ “oh yeah, uh, i guess i did win that! do… do you like it?” ]

⇢ your senior kaveh who’s been all over you ever since your first year. he’s a bit clingy with his touches, holding onto your arm while you walk and greeting you with hugs ever since the two of you got close. whenever the two of you see each other in the hallways, he immediately latches onto you and doesn’t let go. will drag you around while chatting your ear off.

⇢ often starts to show off when you’re around. he tries to be really nonchalant about it too, like casually trying to slip in his accomplishment in the middle of a conversation to make it seem like he’s not trying too hard. when you smile and compliment him, he starts to stutter and blush, losing the cool composure he tried to maintain just moments ago. the others tease him for being a senior who wants to impress his junior and he quickly denies it (“they’re just saying what they want!” he’d huff to you), but you can’t deny the red blush and the pleased smile on his face.

⇢ always trying to help other people out, even if he’s too busy. while he’ll drop everything he’s doing when you ask him a favor, he also doesn’t have the heart to say no to others. some days, he gets a bit disheveled by dismissal after helping out so many people at once. when he starts whining to you and he becomes even clingier, be understanding and let him. he’s had a rough day, after all.

⇢ everyone knows the shenanigans that occur around you in school and kaveh is no exception. so he’s made a bit paranoid every day, wondering when of your crazed suitors will snap and just kidnap you. he could just do it himself and not worry about being separated from you, but he thinks he’s above such things (true, but only without the proper motivation). to compensate for this, he spends every second with you like it’s his last.

⇢ did you just hold his hand?!? that must mean something, right?! he conveniently forgets that you’ve held hands with numerous other people in this academy, but you can’t blame the poor dude, he’s the type to overthink stuff like that. he’s gone over seemingly normal moments between you two countless times in his head, wondering if any of that meant something. at the back of his head, he knows he’s overreacting. but then he remembers when you gave him some papers and your fingers lingered for some seconds then he starts squealing in his pillow, absolutely deluded by his fantasies.

⇢ he’s not the jealous type…! really! he knows how kind and sweet you are. he knows that the praises you have for him are genuine and the way you look at him in admiration is all real. you’re not the type to fake those after all…! even so… even so, you continue to look at others with that same look, and praise them with the same praise. it’s not that they don’t deserve it but… is he not just good enough? to have your praises reserved for only him… was he just not worthy of that?!

[ “did i… did i do something wrong…? please, just talk to me, look at me!” ]

— SASSY TYPE. tighnari | الطغنري

[ “those idiots… honestly, they could at least treat you with a little more care!” ]

⇢ straightforward and no-nonsense, tighnari is well-respected among his peers for being an academic with an honest personality. especially in a school where anything can just tip anyone off, tighnari does not care about who he has to offend to make them back off. as such, many suitors can’t just do their trickery to you whenever he’s watching, lest he call them out on the spot.

⇢ he’s very concerned about your wellbeing. he’s often warning you about the dangers of the men you surround yourself with. whether you believe him or not is up to you, but that won’t stop him from trying to prevent anything from happening to you. obviously, he can’t just say that someone’s killed someone— he doesn’t want to ruin your life like that— but he’s often cryptic, hoping that you’ll figure it out for yourself.

⇢ very naggy, though he nags like a disappointed mother rather than a caring one. you and cyno are often at the end of these rants when you two do something stupid (either together or as individuals), but it’s a sign that tighnari truly cares about you. he could care less whether haitham cut himself on one of his books, but when you do he’s immediately all over you and berating you for being stupid and careless.

⇢ becomes too smug whenever you show a preference for him. he loves feeling when you choose him over anyone else and the suitors stew in their anger when he shoots them a haughty grin. cyno often has to remind him that he’s being too much, but he knows how much tighnari delights in defeating the other harem members without even having to do anything. you chose him out of your own free will, and that says a lot more than having you forced to pick him.

⇢ being raised on botany and all its properties, tighnari’s almost an expert in all things plants and that includes their… chemistry. it’s no surprise that he’s one of the suitors who are capable of concocting their little mixtures. when using it on other competitors, he’s not one to dirty his hands. he often has cyno slipping a thing or two in their drinks (or in special cases, an overly desparate kaveh). but when it comes to tampering with your drink? well, he reserves that special privilege for himself, all for the pleasure of watching the chemicals slowly affect you.

⇢ a smart guy, who knows that the way to your heart is not intimidating you into it but instead playing the nice and concerned friend. poor you, always being chased around by these unstable men. why have them who will only hurt you, when you can come to him, someone that you can trust? even if your vision is slipping away, your body becomes heavy… you can trust him, no matter what~

[ “feeling sleepy already? dear me, your body is really fragile… and cute ♪” ]

— GUARD DOG TYPE. cyno | κύων 

[ “if they’re bothering you again, talk to me. i’ll be the one to handle it.” ]

⇢ serious cyno who amuses you with his corny jokes delivered with a stoic expression. despite looking so mature, being with cyno often gets you two into trouble that he didn’t foresee. it has something to do with that intimidating expression and the way he’s ready to fight anyone who nears him. people mistake him for challenging them to a fight, and more often than not you’re left watching cyno beat down opponents in self-defense.

⇢ when people aren’t busy trying to fight him, cyno’s always seen patrolling the campus halls as head of the security committee. you can tell who’s been caught by him before by the way they flinch and avoid his piercing gaze. even many of his admirers are a bit terrified of him, and all they can do is just watch him walk over to you and whisper in your ear. they think you’re in trouble, but in reality, he’s telling you to meet him at the same meeting spot because he wants to show you this rare genius invocation card he just bought.

⇢ no one in his friend group takes him seriously anymore, not when he’s busy challenging all of them to a tcg fight every get-together. they tend to get roped up into his antics, and you can see how boys really will just be boys as the four of them begin to one-up each other into petty competitions. and cyno’s always been the most competitive out of them.

⇢ cyno seems to have a habit of suddenly showing up moments before one of your suitors plans to do something. they might start to sneak into your lockers to steal something when they see cyno leaning casually against the wall with a knowing glint in his eye. or when one of them spikes your drink and cyno unhesitatingly takes your glass and dump it on the floor, without breaking eye contact with the suspect. the guard dog that you don’t know about.

⇢ part of the protective stalker group within your suitors who make sure to follow you from the shadows whenever he has free time. these stalkers are often chill with each other, nodding at each other in acknowledgment whenever they bump into each other in one of their stalking escapades. he keeps a close eye on you at all times, with your security purely his concern and nothing else.

⇢ indifferent to getting his hands bloody. he’s not unreasonable— he knows that he can’t kill someone just because he’s jealous or something like that. he can’t risk doing something that will have an impact on you. but justice has to be served, and when he sees someone hurt you or become a threat to your safety… he just can’t help it. whether it’s mixing nari’s poison or simply giving them a cold, swift death, everything he does is because he loves you so.

[ “hush, there’s nothing to cry about. they’re gone, no one will hurt you. i have served you justice.” ]

— SCHEMING TYPE. kamisato ayato | 神里綾人

[ “oho? it pains me that you’re so wary of me, even after all these years!” ]

⇢ senior ayato who always has that gentle but calculating mask on, socializing with many people but never close to any of them. when people start realizing that you might have caught his interest, they have warned you about him and whatever shady motives he might harbor. but whenever he approached you, he was so kind and generous with his offerings… not that you were fooled.

⇢ he’s always showering you with gifts whenever you’re together like he’s trying to flex his wealth. bump into him at the mall? he tells you to walk with him for a bit, but you leave with a luxury item you eyed for a few seconds. bundles you up in his scarf when you’re feeling chilly, however when you try to return it to him on the next day he just tells you to keep it so casually like the fabric doesn’t cost you your life savings.

⇢ when class isn’t keeping them both apart, thoma is always seen attending to ayato’s side. it’s not a secret that thoma can go to school because the kamisatos are funding his education, so no one really questions it. they do get a little bit suspicious whenever the two seem a little… intimate, but in the end, who really cares?

⇢ you should really heed others’ warnings about ayato, because it’s clear that he’s a dangerous fellow. he seems to know everything about everyone. once, he had threatened your bullies off with a thinly veiled threat regarding their shady pasts. you don’t know how he got hold of such rare information, but it seems that he’s one of the many people at this school with an information network under their fingertips.

⇢ while he does view you with adoration, it’s clear with how he talks to you that he doesn’t view you as his equal. with the way he talks you down sometimes like he’s talking to a pet rather than a fellow student, you sometimes feel a bit… demeaned. but when ayato tucks your hair behind your ear so tenderly, you have to second-guess your apprehensions.

⇢ the difference between you two is clear. he is the elite of the elite and you are… you. and he takes advantage of this without guilt. it starts as off remarks, about how you wouldn’t survive a day in their society, then it transforms into something bigger. before you know it, he’s criticizing your clothes, your posture, your personality… anything to nail in the fact that you. are. different. till you lose your pride and self-worth. till ayato makes sure that you won’t have the willpower to fight back once he begins his schemes.

[ “but i’m not lying, am i? you are different, and we can’t really do anything about that, can we?” ]

— SUSPICIOUS TYPE. baizhu | 白术

[ “another trip to the nurse, i see… if i didn’t know better, i would think you were here to see me.” ]

⇢ senior baizhu is head of the health committee and is often seen helping out at the nurse’s. his kind and gentle nature makes the sterile place feel a lot more comforting and he attends to each patient without complaint. but when you come over, the nurse remarks how baizhu seems a bit more stressed whenever he frets over you. you’re not quite sure… after all, baizhu has always been so caring towards you and everyone else.

⇢ he’s sickly himself, so sometimes he has to rely on others for help. he does seem to ask you for help more so than the others, but you really shouldn’t mind. after all, he’s done so much for you! he’s prone to fainting, thankfully not that severe, but you have to catch him in your arms before he hits the floor. the way he thanks you and softly utters your name has you almost dropping him, and you swear there’s a cheeky grin on his face that’s gone a second after.

⇢ although his reputation is generally favorable, there are whispers that he and his family are involved in shady medical research. baizhu, when asked about these, will always only laugh and shake his head. ‘let them say what they want to say’, he would tell them. ‘what matters is that i’m capable of tending to them when they come to me for help.’ such thoughtful words often erase whatever doubts they have about baizhu and even make them guilty for even falsely accusing him.

⇢ but they’re right, though. they are a big pharmaceutical company, and every massive corporation has its shadows. a solo research that he’s been working on is in the area of immortality. in recent years, he’s been working on it with much more fervor now that he’s met you. back then, his goal for immortality was always directionless, only researching for the sake of curiosity. but now he has a clear goal: to spend eternity with you and for you.

⇢ he’s an expert businessman and your harem members are well aware of that. among them, he’s known to make many shady deals, especially since he’s so knowledgeable in… drugs. he makes a lot of profit from this, but another clear advantage is his time with you. though these rich students could just buy their drugs literally anywhere, no one quite provides the safety of not being caught like baizhu.

⇢ … might make those deals because more often than not, they end up with you in the nurse’s office. whether bruised from the bullying of another suitor or disoriented from some sort of poison, you rush to the nurse before things get worse for you. you’re so smart, he’d praise you as he tends to the wounds. there is a pleasure in bandaging you up, knowing full well that he could easily dig his nails into the cuts and leave you more in need of his help.

— ANXIOUS TYPE. mika schmidt 

[ “they’re very cool but i… maybe i shouldn’t get too close…” ]

⇢ lil bro gets pushed around by the meaner people in his year and he doesn’t even question it. it’s just very easy to take advantage of him, with his eager-to-please personality and his notable ability to do almost anything exceptionally well. it takes him being adopted into the first-year harem group before the bullying dies down (mainly because most of the people there are well-known and powerful). he doesn’t quite understand how they could bond over a person (you) and was originally quite frightened at their almost fanatic worship of you.

⇢ no one would think he’s part of your harem, not with the way he desperately tries to avoid you. in fact, you could count the times you’ve talked to him on two hands. on all times he was a blushing and stuttering mess to the point that he was incoherent. xingqiu seemed to take a kick out of his embarrassment, while aether softly coaxed him into forming a full sentence in front of you. what stuck with you was how he refused to shake your hand, to which xingqiu bowled over laughing. 

⇢ when he got a little bit more comfortable with you, he was still shy albeit not much to the point that he wasn’t willing to offer you help. you’d often bump into each other while you’re on your errand, and he takes half the workload. most of the time, the two of you work in silence, with mika taking frequent glances at you. when you’re done, he says a meek ‘goodbye!’ and sprints off.

⇢ stalks you around school like a little creep, but thankfully not to the point where he follows you home. he’d peek from around a corner, watching you in the distance with wide eyes in admiration. you’re always so hardworking and excellent… it’s no wonder you have so many admirers! he was almost caught by you a few times, but thankfully you’re none the wiser. his stalking is painfully obvious to the other harem members, but they think him harmless enough that they don’t pay him any mind.

⇢ things that you need the most are always miraculously appearing in your bag, locker, table, etc. when you had complained to thoma about not bringing your lunch, later that day you’d open your locker to find a freshly made lunchbox. when you grumble to yourself about running out of correction tape, a pack with the plastic still on appears on your table. you’re perplexed, albeit grateful. after all, this isn’t the first time some creepy shit has happened to you.

⇢ he really really wishes he’d work up the courage to talk to you face to face without having to be so nervous… but he can’t help the jitters whenever you’re just in front of him! your voice has his ears ringing, your scent has him dizzy, and you’re just so, so cool that he feels so small compared to you! how could he ever talk to you like this…! maybe in the future, when mika would be more capable and dependable…

[ “a–aah… how could i talk to them! they’re too…!” ]

[teabutmakeitazure]

Dissimulation

>Yan! Mafia! Childe x Fem! Student! Reader (Modern au)

>Word Count: 11.6k words (slow burn)

>a/n: my offering for best boy's birthday

Warnings: coercion, Childe doesn’t know how to flirt, blood is finger licking good, panic attack

An unwelcome customer turned into an unwelcome acquaintance has been terrorising your life starting from your minimum wage job. Perhaps your flight back home is your only way out.

Continuation

Patience is a sign of virtue. Or at least that’s what your mother taught you when you were growing up. No, it’s all just some elaborate scheme for the notorious members of society to make others more docile and submissive to them.

Regardless, you don’t say anything, tired already as it is and just wait for the month to be over so that you can get your pay and go back home.

Even if he seems to like you, you would rather not push your luck. Despite only being in this city as a student, you’ve picked up that it’s best not to engage with the local mafia members, even if they seem friendly. Just keep your head down and return the greeting if given one. If one of them comes to your shop, treat them as a regular patron, and if a fight breaks out somewhere with one of them, do not take sides. Simply leave as quietly as you can.

Unfortunately, you have no such choice or opportunity to keep contact to a minimum. That is why you opted to bide your time and sneak out as quickly as you can and never opt for minimum wage jobs again. Maybe you could get a paid internship next time. You’ll probably meet the course requirements.

The dreaded convenience store you are currently walking to is situated a ten minute walk away from your campus dorms. Having to stay there and beep items all day was its own form of punishment as it was, but with the crowd that had recently started to come in these last few months, it started to seem more like a form of purgatory.

You still remember the lecture your friend had given you on how to act normal around the mafia community. The fact that they recently got active in this neighbourhood is simply an added bonus. Honestly, you’ve been counting the days when your incarceration will end with your flight. You just want to go home and hug your cats first, family members second. 

The bell chimes as you walk inside, and you sigh when you see the mess of ginger hair and a dangling red earring already waiting for you. At least this time his back is turned while he scrolls his phone even if he is sitting near the register.

About that, where’s the manager? He should be at the register right now since your shift just started.

“You’re late,” the dreaded man scrolling his phone points out, eyes not leaving the phone screen.

Keeping your friend’s advice in mind, you decide to reply before twisting the knob to the employee room. “Sorry. I was doing laundry.” A lie but you aren’t going to tell him that you got distracted watching cat videos.

No greetings were exchanged and he didn’t even look up at you. Strange, but it’s best to only reply when talked to. Getting too friendly might backfire.

Still, you decide to say something just for good measure.

“Is the manager in today?” you ask, eyes on him while your hand remains on the knob.

All you receive in response is a shrug.

Thus, you enter the employee room, and there you have it! Mister manager sits on the desk in all his white polo shirt glory.

The door hinges squeak loudly behind you when you close the door. Stepping to the desk, his head slowly rises to look at you when you greet him, but he doesn’t respond. After you’ve slipped on the employee uniform jacket and pinned your nametag, he speaks.

“I may have made a mistake.”

That causes you to frown. “What happened?”

“The guy outside… I… I didn’t realise he’s a high ranking member. I may have asked him to leave because he’s been here for half an hour already and… well…”

“Well, what?”

He shakes his head. “Well, he sort of jokingly said that the building belongs to his division and that the store could close if he wanted it to.”

“...”

“Look. I know you’re a student, so I promise I’ll pay you somehow, but please! He listens to you, right? Try to appease him!”

                        

You groan. “I’m sure he meant it as a joke.”

“Please!”

“Alright alright. I’ll… try.”

Honestly, you don’t know what you’re going to do. He’s a higher ranking member, you know that much, but why he even bothers to be so friendly and chatty with you is out of your scope of understanding. At least now those tough looking ones that drop by in the evening don’t test your patience anymore.

Cautiously, you open the employees room door and head back outside. There’s still no one in the store, but you know that afternoon rush hour is about to start. With you on the register seat, the dreaded man who will stay with you on another shift turns his body to face you, phone immediately slipping into his pocket.

“So,” he drawls, “was the manager inside?”

You put your phone on the little shelf underneath the cash drawer. “Yes. He was inside.”

“Was he mad?”

“Um no.” You look at him questioningly, brow raising when he just smiles. “Should he be?”

“Who knows?”

“Right…”

Silence ensues and you briefly ask yourself why he’s less chatty today. You can’t believe that it’s concerning you. Sure, he’s a very dangerous person if he’s so young and in the mafia of all things, but dangerous people are downright terrifying if pissed. At least you’re not the one at fault. Besides, three more weeks and it will be time for your flight.

You just hope you make it.

“Something on your mind?”

He’s looking at you now, cheek resting in his palm. He’s even gotten closer, next to you to be precise. You don’t think you heard him get closer.

Nervously, you give a little laugh. “It’s nothing.”

“Are you sure?” Dull blue eyes bore into yours, gently forcing you to answer truthfully. The lack of vitality in them unnerves you but that is precisely what compels you to answer.

“Well… the manager said that you might get the store to close…”

“That? I didn’t think he’d tell you. Anyway, I was messing around,” he smiles. “You’re a student, so it would be unfair to you to suffer in consequence to him.”

The statement doesn’t make you feel any better. “Ah, you’re too kind sir Tartaglia.”

Like before, the way you addressed him makes him frown. “Just call me Childe. Tartaglia is only for my men. Though… if you would prefer…” he leans in, hand that was previously holding his face now gripping the edge of the table as he whispers dangerously close to your ear, “I’d gladly tell you my birth name.”

He backed away again, a smile on his face. “And I know you wouldn’t tell anyone haha.”

How do you even reply to that?

Scratch that, should you even reply to that?

He’s looking at you again, that smile that doesn’t reach his eyes gracing his lips and impatience oozing from his face. You sense that he’s waiting for an answer so you try your best to comply.

“Understood... Childe.”

The name feels foreign on your tongue, and you blame the unfamiliarity on the nervousness that comes with being near him. Thankfully your answer seemed to appease him and he happily nodded.

Okay, one problem solved. You’ll get your minimum wage salary. Another problem. You’ll have to endure the awkwardness because you don’t have it in you to call him out.

As if on cue, your employer exits the employee room and heads for the exit without even looking at you. The fast walking didn’t make his exit any graceful, but it did make it seem important with how Childe eyed his movements.

Silence settles again as you blankly stare at the empty store in front of you. Regrettably, you’re a little worried about what might happen when you’ll be back after summer vacation. You never told him that you’re leaving for home and the white polo dunce of a manager has been sworn to secrecy about it after he flat out told Childe which institution you study at right in front of you.

Protecting your personal details is your job, so you’ve taken it into your own hands. It isn’t wise to tell a mafia member who obviously pines to be more than just acquaintances about your personal life and details. Thus, you will slip away to home on a weekend flight.

What happens after you’re back is something you didn’t consider.

Well, almost two months would have passed by then. Surely he wouldn’t care anymore… right?

You hope he doesn’t. Perhaps it would be best to avoid this neighbourhood. Maybe even look into school transfers to be safe.

“Something’s on your mind again.”

His voice cuts through the air like a dart and lodges into your head. Is it so wrong to simply want some peace? No wait. Peace is bad. If he's quiet then that’s bad. You’ll have to humour him.

Thus, you take a deep breath. Act normal, you tell yourself. You aren’t the criminal here. You’re a humble student trying to earn some money. Relax. 

“Well,” you drawl, “I’m just spacing out.”

You don’t even look at him, eyes still fixed on the empty store.

“You must be thinking about something.”

Grumbling, you internally curse your luck. Patience is running out and you don’t know how long you can remain civil with him breathing down your neck like this. Maybe he had a bad day and that’s why he’s more inquisitive than chatty.

“Nothing,” you sigh. “I’m not thinking about anything. Just waiting for rush hour to start so that my shift can go by quickly and I can go home and sleep.”

“Hm.” He’s closer now, and you can see him in the corner of your eye. “So you’re tired of this job?”

“Tired of the people that come here actually. Most of them are so shady it’s unreal.” Now that that’s said, you hope he doesn’t realise that the jab is actually at him.

“I realise that. I saw what kind of crooks used to come here. They mostly thought they could intimidate the people working here, but all that’s in the past now.”

Well, you do owe him the credit of straightening them out. If it wasn’t for Childe, you’d still have to endure taunts from those weirdos about how they can take anything from the store and you can’t do anything about it. Regardless, you can’t be certain whether his presence is actually good or bad.

“Anyway,” he’s behind you now, hands suddenly on your shoulders, “you’re not from here, right? Any plans to visit home for the summer?”

Well… shit.

How do you go about this… 

You never told him that you’re not from this city, so that can only mean that white shirt dunce did. Great. 

“I’m not sure,” you reply. Would it be wise to ask him how much he knows? Childe does seem to be friendly in all the weeks you’ve known him. Ah. You’ll take that chance. Slowly turning around in your chair, his hands remove themselves from your shoulders when you face him. “Did my manager tell you anything?”

Now you’re looking into his eyes, but he doesn’t seem affected at all.

“I asked him about it. He told me that you might go home for the summer if you can afford the ticket.”

Okay so maybe the manager saved you a little there, but you still need to answer him. So, you settle with going with what he said. 

Nodding, you look at Childe standing in front of you again. “I'm planning to decide by the end of this month. If I do go home, I'll put in a one week notice. Hopefully it isn't a problem."

He smiles. "Don't worry. It won't be."

You can't tell if he's comforting you or making notes to assist you. Either way, he doesn't know about your flight. Figuring out how to get him off your back when you come back for the next semester will be for when you're home.

"Anyway," Childe says, breaking the silence, "are you doing anything after your shift?"

Where did that come from?

Tilting your head a little, you act innocent in hopes he gets the hint. "Depends on what I'm asked. I do have some pending work. Why? Do you need me for something?"

"No. Just asking. What about tomorrow?"

"I'm not sure about tomorrow yet…"

Childe chuckles. "Then how about you make a reservation for the evening, with me?"

"W-why?"

"I just wanted to take you out for dinner. Is that alright?"

Did… did you just get asked out on a date?

Seeing your confusion, Childe chuckles again. “I promise I’m not going to kidnap you, if that’s what you’re worried about. I’ll just take you out, treat you to dinner, and drop you home. No shady stuff.” He raises his hands in mock surrender, tongue teasingly peeking out.

You suppose there’s no way out of this, but still try nonetheless. “What if something important comes up? Would it be okay to… cancel…?”

His hands go back to his hips. “Important? What could be more important?”

“Um, my summer courses? I still get assignments for those…” You hope that doesn’t offend him, but judging from his face he looks more confused than angry.

Childe clicks his tongue, a scolding look on his face. “You can’t get an assignment with a same day submission date, so that’s out of the question. But hearing your response, it’s alright if you’d rather not go.” He sits back down, arms crossed. “I would prefer it if you'd be honest with me. Prevaricating with lies is more than just annoying, you know.”

In the silence of the store, you can feel your heart beating loudly in your ears, the thump a scolding sound for your stupidity. If he’s angry with you, who knows what could happen. “No! Not at all. That’s not what I meant.” Your patience is still being tested but at this very moment you’re more fearful. “I’m just worried because those courses are counted in my cumulative GPA, and I can’t afford to let it drop!”

“So you’re only worried about your grades?”

“Yes!”

“And you’re not opposed to getting dinner with me?”

“Yes! Wait…”

He smiles. “Go on~”

You narrow your eyes at him, fear all gone and annoyance taking its place. “I sense I’ve made a mistake here.”

The teasing smile turns into an encouraging one and with a sigh, you surrender. “Fine. I’ll go with you.”

He gives a little celebratory ‘yes’ but you cut him short. “But I need to be back home by ten max.”

“Wait… your shift ends at seven…”

You cross your arms, finally getting back at him. “And what about it?” Seriously. Was he planning to hog your entire evening?

“That’s way too short!”

“I have a curfew placed on me by my mother back home. If I phone her any later than ten pm local time, she loses it. I would rather not be screamed at.”

“Alright. That’s fair.”

Now that that’s done, you still can’t believe you just agreed to a date with him.

However, Childe looks more than just ecstatic. He’s practically jumping in his seat, leg bouncing up and down and a wide smile on his face. When you raise a brow at that, he just smiles at you, practically oozing happiness.

He stays the same way, quiet and happy and fidgety as customers start to come in. As usual, he doesn’t say anything while you’re ringing them up and just stares. It’s when the rush dies down a little and only one guy is in the store that he speaks.

“Don’t you ever get tired of working so hard?”

You look at him from the corner of your eye. With his face in his palm, he’s staring directly at you. “I’m beeping items with a barcode scanner. I don’t see why it’s hard.”

“It is actually,” Childe says, firm in his statement. “I think you’re just used to the extra work so you don’t find it bothersome.”

“Maybe,” you shrug.

“Hm. You deserve better. Perhaps… someone who would take care of you, no questions asked. Someone… who would treat you as you deserve, cherish you, and make you happy.”

The way he speaks makes you uncomfortable, but you don’t let it show. Patience, you remind yourself. A few more weeks and you’ll be gone.

“There’s no need for others to look at you like this.” He sighs, “I hope that changes soon.”

You have no idea what he’s talking about, so you’re grateful the guy who was browsing the drinks for the last five minutes finally came to the counter. You busy yourself with billing him, but Childe just… stares. He doesn’t take his eyes off of you for a second.

Now, the regret of agreeing to dinner seeps in.

The customer leaves, and as soon as the door closes, you hear a phone buzzing. Before you even look at your phone, Childe has already pulled his out of his pocket and answers. He doesn’t give a response to whatever was said on the other side, brows furrowing as he cuts the call.

The chairlegs drag against the floor when he stands. “Sorry but I have to go.”

You don’t dare question the oddity despite your surprise to him leaving before your shift ends. “Alright.”

“I’ll pick you up outside your dorm. Is that okay?”

“Okay but what time-”

“I have your number. I’ll text you, don’t worry.”

With that, he’s out, leaving you confused inside the store. Considering the lack of smile and the fact that this is the first time he left before seven pm, it must have been something work related.

You just hope nothing advances after the dinner tomorrow.

-

He really does have your number. You don’t remember ever giving it to him, so you don’t dare question how he got his hands on it. At exactly 8: 06 pm he texted you that he would pick you up at 7: 30 pm outside your dorm tomorrow. That means that you would have around ten minutes to get ready. 

Ten minutes are too much. You’re only going to change, maybe put on some lip gloss if you look too dead. No makeup and no accessories that could possibly make you look more attractive. Simple and plain is the goal.

Speaking of dinner, you’re going to have dinner with a mafioso. Perhaps you really should look into school transfers during the summer.

This sort of vicissitude was not welcome in the slightest, but you’ll have to work around it. If nothing else, you’re thankful that Childe is respectful of most basic boundaries and hasn’t attempted anything yet. Maybe if he wasn’t working where he was, you would’ve given him the time of day.

At 8: 19 pm, he texts you again. ‘Make sure to dress well :) I’d like to see you in a dress if you have any.’

Dress? Does he mean a fancy one? You send back a message asking for clarification, but he only replies with, ‘Anything casual and cute would work.’

Casual and cute… is he really bluntly asking you that?

- 

7: 17 pm. You kick off your shoes and head inside, dashing straight to the bathroom to wash your face. You’re less tired than usual because of Childe’s absence at the store today, something that made the manager anxious, but you didn’t dare tell him about the date.

7: 23 pm. You change into the baby blue Gingham maxi dress you bought a week before finals. It flows just fine, and you grace the look only with pearl studs. Wallet and phone are shoved into the pockets of the dress, and to not look soulless, you apply some lip gloss. The gloss is also stuffed into your pocket in case you want to reapply it later, which you would rather not but you never know. 

7: 28 pm. You set your hair again and slip on your sandals. One last look in the mirror and you give yourself a thumbs up. The look is something you would wear to a casual hangout with friends. Doesn’t look very try-hard or date-like. Perfect.

7: 30 pm. You open the door and head out. Pushing the elevator button, you check your phone for any messages while the elevator reaches your floor. Sudden nervousness makes you a little nauseous, but you breathe in slowly, telling yourself it’s no big deal.

The elevator door opens and as you step in, you collide with a very firm body. One look to the face of this body, and you’re frozen.

“Going somewhere?”

You nervously chuckle. “Childe. What’re you doing here?”

He ushers you both inside the elevator, pushing the ground floor button. “I’m here to pick you up? Did you forget about dinner?”

“Ah, no… it’s just… they don’t allow outsiders without a resident escorting them. I was going to wait in the lobby.”

“Really? The watchman let me in pretty easily.”

You don’t even want to know what that means.

“Anyway,” Childe says, voice louder than the gentle elevator music, “you look lovely.”

You glance at his maroon button down and roman silver dress pants, eyes resting on his earring. “Thanks. You look… fine as well.”

“Fine? I only look fine?” He’s leaning towards you now, and the elevator suddenly feels too small. Before you can be pressured into a reply, the doors open and you hastily step out into the lobby.

A chuckle comes from behind you, and soon you’re following him outside to a black car parked a little farther from the dorm entrance. With every step you take, you pray that no one left in your building for the summer catches you.

The car is unlocked with a beep, and though you’re a borderline broke student with no knowledge of expensive things because you can’t afford them so why bother, you can tell that the car is expensive. Or maybe it’s just polished to perfection, but it looks expensive.

Regardless, this is the hard part. Do you sit in the front seat or the back seat? The back seat would be rude but the front seat would be too straightforward. The front seat is too intimate and close but the back seat is too alienating. Shit. What do you do?

You leave your choice to luck and close your eyes, reaching for a door handle. Whichever you grab will be where you sit. Upon grabbing one, you open the door just to hear another one open as well. You open your eyes and a car speeds by at the same time.

Childe stands next to the open front seat door, a brow raised as he looks at you incredulously. You look at him, then to the door you just opened, then to him again. The door you opened is graced with your gaze once again before it’s Childe’s turn.

It’s silent, awkward, and you can’t shake the feeling that you messed up before the date even started.

“Would you… prefer the back seat?”

You blink at him, courage all gone when you reply. “Ah, no! It’s not that. I-I just wasn’t thinking. Sorry…”

Childe’s brow is still raised. “Okay. I’m not your driver. I’m your date. So, I’d like it if you sat in the front.”

Shit. Everything has gone to shit. You agreed to the dinner just to appease him and leave things on a good note instead of a sour one, yet you’ve already made things bad. Great job, [Name]. Aren’t you just wonderful?

Awkwardly, you close the door you opened and get in, allowing Childe to shut the door next to you before slipping into the driver’s seat. He starts the car, puts on his seatbelt, cracks his fingers, and folds his sleeves to the elbow before exiting the parking and going onto the road.

Your seatbelt feels uncomfortable in the heavy silence. Thoughts of what Childe might do if displeased swirl inside your mind but you frankly don’t know what. He seems to like you. He has never mistreated you besides being creepy a few times. Perhaps he’d forgive you. He always says your airheadedness is cute.

The pounding heart inside your chest gets more aggressive when Childe clears his throat, lips parting to give you another mini heart attack. “Aren’t you going to ask where we’re going?”

“Where are we going?”

“It’s a secret.”

The pounding heart quiets down a little, confusion kicking away some of the anxiety. “Then it’s good I didn’t ask out of my own accord.”

A secret? What does he mean by that? Scratch that, is the location being a secret a good thing or a bad thing? Should you text your live location to someone? But all your friends are gone for the summer. That one girl you’re acquainted with on one of the upper floors might help if you disappear. At the very least, your jokes in the conversations you’ve had might at least let her sympathise enough to report your status to the police.

“Are you scared?”

Childe’s question makes you look at him, your heart going back to pounding crazily upon seeing his smile. “S-should I be?”

“No. You should never be scared when you’re with me.” His eyes are still on the road. “I realise you have a negative impression of me, but there’s no reason for you to be scared. Well, not you but others should be, but that’s besides the point.”

“Ah. I see.” No. You don’t see, but just go along.

“Mhm. That dress looks amazing on you.”

He takes a right turn at the green traffic light, and you briefly glance at his flexing arms as the steering wheel turns. “Thanks,” you reply. “The dress has pockets.”

As a demonstration, you pull out your phone and show it to him. Childe chuckles at that, calling it cute and you find your heartbeat growing tamer. The phone is shoved back inside and pleasant conversation fills the car on the way.

Childe asks about how university is, how your finals went, and how you’ve come to find the city. You answer the last question truthfully, hands fidgeting as you tell him about your reservations with the ‘law and order’ situation and how you’ve been begged to steer clear of the mafia. The statement is followed by a joke of you doing a horrible job at that, and Childe laughs, saying that you don’t have to be afraid of anyone in the city anymore.

The comforting sentence doesn’t comfort you at all.

The car stops in front of a restaurant and Childe opens the door to allow you to step out. Keys are given for valet parking, and Childe takes your hand as he leads you inside. Thankfully, it’s not as fancy as you thought. It’s not even as expensive, the kind of restaurant where you could arrange a fancy friend get-together. 

The not so high end restaurant doesn’t make you uncomfortable, but sitting across Childe does. He apparently made a reservation for the rooftop, so here you are, wind gently blowing in your hair as he unbuttons another button of his shirt.

“Do you like it?” He’s looking at you now, eyes briefly going to your phone when you place it on the table.

“It’s… nice.”

“I didn’t choose somewhere any fancier because I figured you might get uncomfortable. Next time though.”

Next time? Good God what is he planning?

Your face may have given it away because he's tilting his head at you, earring dangling in tandem as he acts coy. "Is something wrong? Do you not like the idea?"

"N-no. That's not it…"

"Hm?"

You gulp. "Ah it was just a little sudden. That's all."

"I'm glad." He's back to smiling now, face resting on his palm. "I'll make sure to treat you like how you should be next time."

Again, next time? Not happening.

Childe grabs the menu, requesting that you let him order for you both. He says something about the taste of home and this restaurant being the only one able to recreate that, but you don't bother. You simply brush him off, telling him he can go ahead.

It's when a few minutes have passed since ordering that he speaks again. Luckily, the clanking of plates and chatter helps tone down your nervousness.

"I come here whenever I miss home. This restaurant actually originated from my homeland, so I thought I'd bring you here. It's not high end as well, so that's an added bonus."

You nod. "Interesting."

Elbow on the table, he rests his chin on the back of his hand, blue eyes studying you carefully. The observant gaze makes you feel small, and you end up clearing your throat when his gaze drops to your collarbone.

You look him in the eye as you speak. "It's a little awkward, isn't it?" 

He tilts his head like earlier again. "What is?"

"The silence."

"Ah. Sorry. I just couldn't help myself. You look stunning."

Unlike the previous times, the compliment makes your cheeks heat up. It's probably because this time he's looking right at you with the faint hint of red on his cheekbones. Seriously. He's so human. You wonder how he ended up being in the mafia.

Childe doesn't allow silence to settle again, chatting away about his homeland and how he misses the snow. He says it's easier to go outside in this city's climate, but the memories and people back home make living there worth it. During his rambling, you simply nod along, only adding in a comment wherever you deem necessary.

Patience, you tell yourself. This'll pass. At least you're fortunate in the sense that Childe is accommodating and nice. 

He continues rambling, telling you about his younger siblings. Fulgent expression and energetic voice, you lean forward to give him your attention, content that he's making good conversation. As you listen to him, your fingers start fidgeting with the cutlery set in front of you.

Your eyes remain on him as he recounts a story where his youngest brother Teucer refused to acknowledge his sister Tonia after she got a haircut. Hearing about the young child's inability to recognise his sister makes you chuckle which in turn makes Childe pause to look at you with widened eyes.

A smile stretches on his lips, and you trace the edges of the knife when he resumes. 

"Mama was pretty concerned about that. It took Teucer a few days to accept that his sister looks different now. Ah. I miss them. They're a lively bunch and I miss being with them."

Your thumb runs up and down the edge of the knife while it's clutched in your hand, face resting in the palm of your free hand. "You can visit them if you miss them that much."

Childe gently shakes his head, hair swaying with the movement. "It's not possible at the moment." At your confused expression, he clarifies, "I can't tell you why. It's confidential information."

"That's fair."

"But I am glad I still get to be here. I got to meet you, after all."

"Oh. That's… nice."

"Mhm." He's leaning towards you as well now, both arms resting on the table. "Any development in your plan to visit home? You should go. If you're having any problems with the plane ticket or something then-"

"Ouch!"

The knife drops from your hand, clattering dully on the table. Blood oozes from the pad of your thumb as your hands shake from the startle. It doesn't take Childe even a second to be on his guard.

"You cut your thumb?" He gets up, drags his chair beside you and sits, knees brushing against yours. "You were fidgeting with the knife… well, no matter."

Instead of grabbing a tissue, he takes a hold of your hand and stares at the bleeding cut. More blood oozes out of it the longer he stares and one drop even reaches your palm. However, that isn't what's bothering you. It's the fact that he just licked that blood trail. 

He licked it. And now he's sucking on where the cut should be.

The feeling of his tongue is what brings you back to your senses, confusion and panic overtaking your senses and overwhelming you. Pulling your hand away does nothing because his grip is too strong. Goodness, at least the few tables around you are empty and no one else seems to be looking.

"Childe."

He doesn't let go, pressing your thumb down against his tongue instead.

"Childe. Let go-"

A trail of saliva joins your thumb and his mouth. The two of you make eye contact and you notice a slight blush on his face. Childe then manoeuvres your hand, his lips on your palm as he tenderly kisses the skin messily. 

The action gives you goosebumps but you remain quiet, still confused about what's going on. It's when he finally lets go and presses a tissue to the cut that he speaks.

"Be careful."

You remain frozen, hand in his while the tissue remains pressed over your thumb. You can no longer hear the faint background chatter or feel the gentle breeze in your hair. In your senses are dull blue eyes, freckles dusted across cheekbones and nose, and warm breath fanning over your ear when he leans in.

Childe's voice is a whisper, the edges of his hair tickling your cheek as the chair quietly croaks. "You shouldn't be playing with dangerous things."

He leans back again. With a smile, Childe gets up, drags his chair back to where it was, and seats himself. The air surrounding you both is casual, light, like something completely out of the blue didn't occur. This gives you the hint that it's best to not talk about it.

Elbows on the table, both his palms hold his face as he looks at you with a smile. The skin under his eyes crinkles slightly, freckled cheeks squished, and long auburn eyelashes framing the deep blues. You sit there puzzled and feeling slightly violated while Childe continues staring.

It's honestly a little funny.

Right when you concluded that Childe was nice, he does something completely uncalled for. You remove the tissue that was pressed to your thumb, pleased to see that your blood cells have done their job and the platelets coagulated. It'll probably turn into a scab by the time you get home.

Dammit, now you're nervous all over again. Curse you mass of neurons floating in cerebral fluid! Be useful! Sure, he just sucked on your thumb, but keep it together.

When you look at him again, he's still staring. With a sigh, you ask him about his job, what kind of work he does, but Childe only shakes his head, refusing to answer.

His excuse smoothly exits via soft, pink lips. You didn't know you were looking at them until you heard him speak.

"I don't think you'd enjoy hearing about my job. Plus, it's all confidential."

You will yourself to look back into his eyes no matter how difficult eye contact may seem. "Shady? Is that what you're implying?"

"Hm." He hums. "Let's just leave it at that."

So he admits it? Great. You can't wait for the evening to be over. The bag of chips sitting at home sounds very comforting and appetising right now.

When he continues talking again, you start fidgeting with the edges of your sleeves under the table. You need a distraction. Using your phone would be rude, so you figure abusing the fabric of your sleeves is a better option. It takes a little while for your food to be here, but when it is, you compliment his order and ask him about his choice.

The question serves to keep the conversation easy and light while allowing you to only answer, not speak. This in turn allows nothing uncomfortable to occur during dinner. It’s thankfully uneventful until it's time to pay.

You had no qualms about paying for yourself, but being Childe, he told you he’d take care of it. You had no problem with that either. What you did have a problem with was what he said.

“Let me treat my girl.”

My girl. That’s what he called you. If that’s not a red flag, you don’t know what is. Despite that, you suck it in and let him take you home. Patience. You’ll leave soon and never show your face in his active districts again. Maybe you’ll even transfer schools if you’re lucky.

You’re really hoping you can transfer. He might come find you himself after you come back from summer break. Even with all those troublesome thoughts in mind, you act as casual as you could while sitting in his car as he drives you home. Conversation was nice, the thumb incident was borderline violating, but the meal was tasty.

The car stops near your dorm’s entrance, but before you could make any move to exit the car - hand hovering over the handle - Childe locks the doors. You turn to look at him but he’s already looking at you.

“I need to ask you something,” he says, voice unsure and eyes not meeting yours.

Tentatively nodding, you signal him to continue.

“Did you… enjoy yourself?”

“Huh?” You scold yourself mentally for the confused expression. Clearing your throat, you compose yourself. “Yeah. As far as enjoying dinner goes.”

His eyes finally meet yours, and the eye contact is intense. “I take it that you’d like to do this again?”

“...”

“I don’t mean immediately but maybe sometime in the future?”

Sighing, you slump in your seat. “I can’t be sure.” It’s better to make things clear and not lead him on, even if it’s harsh. “I’m not… looking for something right now. It would be unfair to say yes to you when I don’t mean it.”

Childe’s grip on the edge of his seat tightens, the leather squeaking as it gets abused. “I understand. But that doesn’t mean that you don’t like me, right?”

“Um, yeah.” You can’t pull your eyes away from his. “You’re… nice.”

He blinks. “I’m nice?”

“Yes.”

Childe’s mouth opens in disbelief before he goes back to his senses with a shake of his head. He leans towards you, hand grabbing the back of your seat and eyes widened. “So that means I have a chance?”

“Well,” you laugh awkwardly, “I never said you didn’t. I just said that-”

“I know I know. You’re not looking for something right now, but that doesn’t mean you won’t change your mind later. I’m not going to do something weird, don’t worry. I just… won’t give up.” He’s smiling as he speaks, happy at the prospect of not being rejected. “I’ll keep trying!”

Honestly, the determination he has is cute but it’s almost 10 pm. “That’s great and all, but could you unlock the door? I really need to go.”

“Oh, of course.” The doors unlock with a soft click and Childe bids you goodbye with another concerning statement. “I’ll make sure you change your mind. It’s a promise.”

The chips in your room lived to see another day.

-

The events of last night’s dinner keep replaying in your mind. It’s like a curse, the moment when Childe grabbed your wrist and gently shoved your thumb inside his mouth. Even with the bandage over it, you can still feel the ghost of his tongue, wet and warm, licking it.

You stop in your tracks to shiver.

It’s infuriating how even on your way to your shift you can only think of him and how he promised to change your mind. So much for leaving without any trouble. Can’t he take a hint? Maybe he’s too dense. It does seem characteristic of him.

The bell chimes when you open the door and head inside. A few customers are browsing the store, one middle aged woman and two office workers to be precise, while the manager sits by the cash register. His white polo shirt greets you before he does and by the time you come back from the employee room changed into your uniform jacket and nametag, the customers are gone.

Beloved and totally not airheaded manager moves away from the register, handing you a little list of work to do and announces that he’s leaving to meet up with someone.

Not even ten minutes of him being gone and the dreaded blue eyed mafioso walks in.

The bell chimes to signal his arrival, and unfortunately you meet his eyes as he stands at the entrance. He’s dressed too casually today, a white T-shirt with some band name on it, blue jeans and white sneakers. If you weren’t aware of his lifestyle, you would’ve thought that he was just another young adult on the street.

“Hi!”

You return his greeting with a simple nod, and he comes in. The only sound is his footsteps till he stops on the other side of the register. You meet his dead eyes again, regret instantly seeping into your bones. Childe’s gaze is affectionate, soft. Being on the receiving end of such a look is overwhelmingly foreign and uncomfortable. 

The freckles dusted across his cheekbones and nose catch your attention, but they fail to be graced with your eyes for long. You immediately look away when you realise you started to stare.

Regardless, Childe acts as though he didn’t notice and rounds the register to sit on the chair next to you like always. He doesn’t speak of the date. Typical conversation plays out, much to your surprise, and you mentally curse yourself for expecting him to bring up yesterday evening.

However, it’s not his casual physiognomy that bothers you. It’s his friendliness and the fact that he has started messaging you like one would a friend. Just yesterday he had texted you for the first time in his life and now he’s spamming you funny videos and memes?

Should… should you be worried?

It might prove to be more difficult to shrug him off. You didn’t want to be harsh and outright reject him for him after how he had seemingly tried to be kind and took you out for dinner, but now it seems like that would have been the correct course of action. It’s not that you’re rejecting him solely on the basis of being a part of the mafia. It’s simply your desire to not be in a relationship right now.

Perhaps he’ll respect your wishes like he did last night, even if he did claim that he will keep trying.

-

You should not push your luck. Really. You shouldn’t. You shan’t do so.

First, you leave his meme spams on read. Then, you have the gall to address him as ‘sir Tartaglia’ again by mistake. The instant fall of his smile had sent a shiver down your spine and reminded you of why you told yourself to be careful. Just because he likes you doesn’t mean you’re safe.

Maybe you are, but that change of expression has creeped you out to no end. It’s better to be safe than sorry.

It has been two weeks since the dinner and Childe has settled with chatting with you over text during the late night hours. Tonight, however, you’ve put your phone away in favour of watching something on your laptop. The screen illuminates your face in the darkness of your room, and your phone’s buzzing briefly catches your attention.

You ignore it, obviously. You’re leaving in one week. This little ‘friendship’ or whatever one could call it is pointless. You’ve already planned on blocking Childe on all the socials he’s invaded as soon as you reach home, a step towards never seeing him again. The less you let him get attached, the easier it’ll be for him to forget you and move on.

-

Childe is… a little annoyed. You didn’t reply to any of his texts for a few days, leaving it on read since he sends some random videos after the texts. He let it slide at first, but now he’s bothered. It’s evident in the way he isn’t smiling or even talking to you for that matter. 

Not wanting to end up on his bad side permanently, you capitulate your ego. “Childe? Is something wrong?” You’re restocking the potato chips as you speak, head peeking over the short aisle to look at him while he sits at the register. “You seem off.”

He makes eye contact with a face devoid of any emotion as if that were the most natural thing to do in the situation. “Why do you ask?”

“I just said so. You seem off.”

“It’s nothing.” Childe looks away, opting to stare at his shoes. He’s wearing casual clothes today as well, something you noted he started doing more often after the date.

Seeing that he won’t budge, you go back to restocking but perk up again when you hear him speak, albeit very softly.

“You’re ignoring me,” he mumbles to himself.

So, you do what comes to mind. Leaving the chip packets on the floor of the empty store, you walk up to him, hands on your hips. “I’m ignoring you?”

He doesn’t look at you, his shoes the most interesting sight in the world. “Yeah.”

“What makes you think that?”

“You don’t talk to me. It’s always me who initiates the conversation.” He looks up, making eye contact. “Is it because I’m in the mafia and you don’t want anything to do with me?”

The subtle accusation makes you defensive immediately, and you stammer. “N-not at all-”

“It is, isn’t it?” The earring hanging from his ear briefly catches your attention when he tilts his head. “That’s why you lied and said that you weren’t looking for a relationship right now.”

“But I’m really not.”

“Relationships aren’t ‘looked for’. They just happen.” Childe leans back in his seat, making you grow more nervous. “And you don’t want one to happen with me just because of where I work.”

Your hands start fidgeting with each other on their own, tongue pushing against your mouth’s hard palate. It takes strength to reply to his imputation. “That’s not true…” Heart beating wildly in your chest, you push the words out. “It’s just… I don’t want a relationship right now.” Think brain, think! “It’s not you, it’s me.” Curse you mass of neurons and amygdala for thinking of this ginger as a serious threat. “So please, don’t think of reasons that aren’t true.”

“But they are true,” he states, like he’s telling you that the moon also exerts gravity on the earth, voice boring and flat. “You just refuse to admit it because you’re scared of me.” Childe’s eyes bore into yours again, seeing through your casual lies and crafted confidence.

“I’m not scared of you.”

“You can’t fool me, [Name]. I’d prefer you to be truthful. Lies just get on my nerves.”

You gulp. There’s no way out of this now. “Sorry…”

“It’s alright. Just keep that in mind for next time.”

“...”

“How can I change your mind?”

“What?” You blink at him, not understanding what he’s asking you. “What do you mean?”

“How can I change your fear of me into attraction? I don’t like knowing that you’re afraid of me.” Childe’s expression turns into a pleading one. Genuine helplessness is written all over his physiognomy which in turn makes you uncomfortable. You feel small under his watchful gaze. It’s as though he’s watching every single movement and breath you take.

“I… don’t know…” Your hands hang by your sides as you stand in front of him, lips pressed into a thin line.

Voice gentle, he tries to persuade you once again. “Please. Tell me how to win your heart.”

“I… I don’t know.” There’s a pitiful helplessness in your voice now, and you don’t know what makes you want to tell him what you are about to. But you do. And you have to watch the realisation appear on his face. “I never wanted your attention.” Admitting that somehow leaves a sour taste in your mouth. “I never wanted anyone’s attention. All I am is a student trying to make ends meet while cussing out the degree I chose for myself.”

Eyes wide, Childe tries negotiating. “I could make your life better.” Hands slam the desk in front of him as he stands, barcode scanner jumping and falling back with a thunk. “I just need one chance. That’s all I need.”

“I’m sorry, Childe, but-”

“No no. I’m not asking. You don’t have to give me one.”

You look into the lifeless blues of his eyes as he continues. “I’ll take that chance whenever I get the opportunity. You don’t have to worry your pretty head over it.”

Somehow his decision to take matters into his own hands unnerves you more than his blatant signs of attraction. It didn’t help that he wordlessly left the store after that.

-

Today is your last shift before you leave for home. Oddly enough, Childe didn’t swing by the store ever since he left the other day, and he isn’t here right now as well. It makes you uneasy. Something’s wrong. You can feel it in your gut.

He hadn’t even contacted you or sent any cat videos or memes, and being the coward that you are, you left things as they were. Hope that you won’t see him again keeps you going and stops you from poking at the obvious issue lest it bites you back.

But… you feel a little guilty. Even now as you stare at the floor on the other side of the cash register, you can’t help but recall how Childe tried his best to keep conversation flowing during dinner despite getting a very rude lack of input from your side. He’s been trying, and you’re the one not giving him the time of day.

Nonetheless, relationships aren’t built on pity. You hope he finds someone else, someone more suited for him. That’s the only wish you have for him even if the moral ramifications are eating you up on the inside.

Still, you can’t stop your mind from wandering to the question of what he meant by taking the chance when the opportunity presents itself. Does he somehow know about your flight? Well, if he did, he wouldn’t have disappeared. Best to end things on a good note rather than a bad one and stay in contact. But what if he doesn’t care anymore?

Though that outcome is the welcomed one, it still stings to think that. Someone losing interest in you isn’t exactly something that makes you feel good. Regardless, it’s welcome in this situation. You were never in favour of his attention being on you and you never will be.

At 7: 08 pm, the bell at the door chimes in goodbye as you step out. The evening rush hour greets you, and you go with the flow of the people rushing home after a long day or work. Well, it’s the weekend tomorrow. At least they have something to look forward to.

The building of your current residence comes into view and relief washes all over you. Just a bit more and you can get into bed. There’s still a few more hours till you leave, and all your luggage is packed. All you need to do is take a nap.

You practically skip to the entrance, the cool air of the lobby’s air conditioning hitting your face. No one is inside and you hurriedly make way to the elevator. 

The nap you took felt like an entire night of rest. With a stretch, you jump out of bed to gather the rest of your things. It’s when you’re locking the door to your room when you realise just how quiet it is. Your apprehension is understandable, if not relatable. You’ve never exited your room after coming back home for the day, so you have no idea what the building is like after a certain hour.

Dragging your suitcase with one hand, hand carry with the other, you haul them both and yourself - the backpack on your shoulders being an honourable mention - inside the elevator. The air is uncharacteristically cool and dry, something elevator music fails to get your mind off of. 

Your phone buzzes in your pocket, but you ignore it in favour of dragging your luggage outside the elevator and into the lobby. Who would be calling this late? Probably your mother. The video call would cut when you step out and the Wifi disconnects, so it doesn’t matter. Key left at the receptionist’s desk, you mentally thank yourself for checking out online in the evening but pray that the key is still here by morning.

Hesitation wins and you end up leaving it next to the pen holder. You were told to drop it off at the desk. It’s not your fault it’s unattended.

The bus stop is a five minute walk away, so with a deep breath, you step out of the lobby and to the outside, allowing the night’s cool breeze to caress your face as your luggage stays grasped in either hand. Your eyes land on the empty road, praying that you don’t get creeped out by the lack of people.

Biting the inside of your cheek, you take a step forward, then another, and another, till you’re a few metres away from the building’s entrance. The breeze is still blowing and the air is cool so you won’t be hot during your wait at the sto-

“[Name]?”

The breeze stops blowing.

“Where are you going at this hour? And… why… is your luggage with you?”

Your breathing is the next to stop, though only momentarily.

Almost on instinct, you let go of everything in your hands and reach for the phone in your pocket. You don’t even bother looking at the source of the voice, eyes glued to ‘Childe’ glowing on your screen as the contact of the missed call. Heart hammering in your chest, you slowly turn to look at him.

Regret and fear seep into your bones at the same time. He’s wearing something similar to what he usually did in the beginning, garnet dress shirt and dark grey dress pants. The gloves on his hands cover his palms but leave the majority of the back of his hands exposed, phone held in the leather grip.

What your eyes focus on first, however, is the earring. It catches the light from the lobby behind him like a beacon, but you’re quick to look away and into the blue irises of his empty gaze.

There’s no time for you to question why you didn’t hear him before he spoke up.

“Are you leaving?” He takes a step forward, phone slipping inside his pocket, and you take a step back. The reaction is all he needs from you to raise his hands in surrender, only coming closer when the wary look on your face softens into something more observant.

“Are you going back home?” Childe stands only one step away when he asks that and tilts his head waiting for an answer. He receives one in the form of a nod, and questions further. “When’s your flight?”

“Half past 3 am,” is your reply.

“So you have a little less than four hours,” he points out. “I actually came here to talk to you. I uh… I missed you and couldn’t help it. If I knew you were leaving, I would have come sooner.”

You’re still watching him attentively, the clothing he’s wearing sufficient to ring alarm bells in your head. “So you wanted to talk?”

“Yes.”

“Well,” you bite your lip, “I guess I’m not running late. The bus will be here in fifteen minutes anyway, so I have time to spare.”

“Perfect!” He grabs both of your luggages and drags them in the opposite direction of your intended destination: the bus stop. It takes a stern question from you for him to stop and look at you with that empty gaze again. “I’m just taking you to my car. I’ll drop you off. There’s no need to bother yourself with the bus.”

Any demurrance from your side is promptly shut down and smoothed over with reassurances that he’d get you to the airport safe and sound. As your packed belongings sit next to the car, Childe eases the backpack off your shoulder and leaves it on top of them.

It’s when he looks at you that the anxiety skyrockets, eating away your consciousness. Alone with Childe, a highly ranked member of the mafia, at near midnight with all your belongings and an assurance to be dropped off the airport safe and sound is an obvious problem.

You should have listened to the uneasy feeling in your gut back in the store.

“So,” he drawls, standing a foot away from you with his hands in his pockets, “I know I was brash and that I shouldn’t have made you uncomfortable and also should have apologised to you later, but I won’t.”

That causes you to perk up, anxiety dying down a little. “You… won’t?”

“Yeah,” he shrugs, “I won’t. It’s because I’m not going back on my words. I know you don’t view me as a potential partner, let alone friend, but that isn’t going to stop me.”

You don’t like where this is going.

Childe continues, eyes still boring into yours. “I don’t understand why you’re afraid of me. I’ve told and showed you countless times that I’m not going to do anything. It’s pointless to waste your energy. All I want is to exclusively be yours and call you mine. Why would I ever do anything to you if that’s what I wish for?”

The sir suddenly feels too suffocating, like not enough oxygen is filling your lungs. There’s a subtle darkness in your vision, one you deal with by walking to and leaning on the parked car, not that it helps. Not with the deeper breaths you’ve started taking. It doesn’t take any more indications for Childe to rush to your side, an unwelcome hand gently stroking your back.

The breeze flows again, caressing your face and blowing through your hair, but you’re still sweating.

You don’t know what happens next, just that you’re inside the car, the AC turned on, a light shining over your head, and a hand still running up and down your back while you take mouthfuls of breaths. They’re quicker now, you note, and a hand - your own hand - rises to cover your mouth as your sight and self-awareness is restored.

The confusion and vulnerability hits you like a truck and the tears simply fall harder.

Each and every time the hand moves over your back, you feel like more of your skin was peeled off, goosebumps still littering over your arms. It takes several minutes for you to somewhat calm down and become cognizant of your emotions and actions. It doesn’t come as a surprise when the first thing you decide to do in that state is cry harder.

What are you crying for? You don’t know. It’s hard enough as it is to just continue breathing. Processing your emotions is for later.

A hand, a foreign one, gently lifts your face, allowing the dashboard to come into view, and turns it to the source. Childe’s blurry image greets you as your chest heaves, warm thumbs swiping away the tears rapidly running down your cheeks. You don’t have time to dwell on where his gloves disappeared to, focusing on the feeling of his warm thumbs feeling cool over your tear stricken face.

Several minutes pass again, and you sit with your face in your hands while Childe puts your luggage inside the car trunk. Reddened, swollen eyes meet his blue ones in the silence of the car, your sniffling being the only sound. Whatever you just experienced was horrible. Had Childe not been… no. He is part of the cause. Him helping you through it is the least he could have done.

The driver’s seat is quickly occupied once again, and Childe breaks the silence, concern present all over his face. “Are you feeling better?”

You nod, too uncertain in your ability to speak. His question of whether or not you want some water is met with a shake of your head, and Childe settles with pressing his lips into a thin line.

“I’m sorry,” he says. “I didn’t think it would upset you that much.”

Voice slightly raspy, you reply after clearing your throat. “It’s alright. I… I didn’t see it coming as well.”

He slumps into his seat, head turned to look at you. Childe’s eyes glaze over your body, looking for potential signs of fear. It seems to him that you’re dazed, confused. It’s advantageous for him, if not relieving. Seeing you afraid or in pain doesn’t elicit any positive feelings.

After receiving your permission, Childe puts on his seatbelt - all the while making sure you fasten yours as well - and reverses the car, intending to drive you to the airport. You’re a bit late compared to what you originally planned, but you suppose he can get you there on time.

The car is eerily quiet with the lack of music. There’s no gentle humming from Childe, only the sound of either of you breathing. Unfortunately for you, the silence fails to last.

“So when are you coming back?” Childe’s voice is calm, flat. He’s completely casual in his question despite your concern that he wouldn’t take kindly to being lied to about such a thing.

“It’s one way,” you lie. Not being held accountable for your verbal deceit helps you gain some confidence. “I’m not sure when I’ll be back, but I’ll be back for class obviously.”

The car is silent again for a while and it fills you with hope for a quiet ride, one where you would get off, thank Childe profusely, and head home never to see him again. Alas hope is crushed, and you freeze in your seat, muscles tensing when Childe speaks again.

“How much more are you going to lie?”

Childe continues driving, acting unaffected with his demeanour and tone, but it wouldn’t take a genius to know that him gripping the steering wheel in a bone crushing grip is anything but him being casual. 

No. He’s certainly upset, and you’re afraid you’re too much at his mercy.

“I gave you another chance and you ruined it.” Childe’s fingers tap rhythmically on the steering wheel, voice even as he speaks. “Why don’t we try again? When’re you coming back?”

You bite your tongue when you feel the initial signs of panic bubbling up your throat. It takes a bit of force to make yourself speak, even if it’s in a more fearful way. “Seven weeks. I’ll be home for seven weeks.”

“You’re not going to block me on your socials when you get there, are you?”

With a shake of your head, you continue looking out the window. “No.” 

He hums, satisfied at your cooperation. “Good.” The car takes a turn, the empty roads seemingly omnipresent. “I’m not going to do anything. I just wanted to know the truth… er, more like hear it directly from you.”

A few minutes of silence pass, but it doesn’t last because you can’t stay quiet for longer. “You’re going the wrong way.”

“I am?” The smile in his voice is evident.

“Yes, you are.” You turn to look at him, nervously gulping at his grin. “Stop messing around.”

He doesn’t reply.

“Childe!”

Your panic fails to affect him in any way. With the fuzziness growing in your mind, there’s not much you can do except grab onto his sleeve. That causes him to look at you, even if just for a moment, but that’s all you get for a reaction. As a last resort, you reach for your phone in your pocket but freeze when you don’t feel the device.

You don’t need to say anything for Childe to provide the answer to your question. “Your phone isn’t there. It’s with me, I’m afraid.”

“Childe,” you say, voice low and pleading, “please stop screwing around.”

He sounds slightly offended when he replies. “You think I’m screwing around?”

“Yes!” Your exclamation doesn’t seem to affect him, so you opt for a more direct approach. “I don’t understand why you’re doing this. I came with you because I trusted you.” The words are spat out, but Childe only seems amused.

“Trusted me?” He chuckles. “Sweetheart, if you trusted me, you would’ve told me about your flight from the start instead of lying about putting in a one week notice. You’re scared of me, and despite the fact that it stings like salt on an open wound, I suppose there’s some merit to that as well.”

“W-what do you mean?”

“What do you think I mean?”

You bite the inside of your cheek now. There’s no way you can tell what Childe means by what he said. Judging from your previous conversations as well, your fear of him is a sour spot, but maybe you could exploit that to your favour.

“I’m afraid of you, because of your unpredictability and that is exactly what you are demonstrating right now.” You grab onto his sleeve again, albeit more desperately this time. “You gave me more reasons to fear you than you did to like you.”

The car slows, as if synchronised with Childe’s thought process. “Is that… really what you think of me?”

“Yes,” you reply in an even voice. “I was already a little scared from what I heard from people and then you started doing all this stuff-”

“Stuff like what?”

“Stuff like this!”

He sighs, moving the steering wheel to stop the car at the side of the road. “I just told you that I can’t ever hurt you, and you’re still calling me scary?”

Your eyes focus on his expression, specially searching for any signs of him lying - hypocritical on your part - but fail to find anything other than sincerity. The grip on his sleeve loosens, your hand ultimately returning to your lap, when he turns to face you. It’s intimidating to look into his dead eyes but it still makes you wonder how such a beautiful colour can be so lifeless.

Childe’s lips move and despite your feelings you find yourself absolutely memorised by the plush pink as his voice leaves his mouth.

“I’m not changing my mind.”

His declaration forces you to focus on his words, any attraction be damned.

“Lying to me and saying that you haven’t decided on leaving for home did get on my nerves a little,” he says, “but I forgive you. You’re cute, so I can’t stay mad at you for long.”

You let his words sink in. He says that he forgives you for the lie, but what now?

“Alright,” you drawl, voice nervous, “now can we please go to the airport?”

Childe leans in, a smile on his face. “How about instead of the airport, we go home?”

The word ‘home’ catches your attention and dread settles in. If he’s implying what you think he is, then you don’t think you’ll be able to catch your flight, let alone get to the airport.

“Childe,” you croon, “I think we have some misunderstandings. Before either of us does something impulsive and hurtful, let’s just talk it over.”

He just looks amused. “Oh? Talk over what? You’re the one pushing me away.”

You try again to de-escalate. “I only told you that I don’t want a relationship.”

“Liar.” Childe’s hand reaches for the edge of your seat, the skin below his collarbones and a little bit of his chest visible as he leans in closer. “We’ve already had this discussion before. Since you’re cute and obviously not in very good mental shape at the moment, I’ll give you a little bit of advice. Let me do my thing. I’m not going to hurt you, just… change your scenery a little.”

You narrow your eyes at him upon saying the word ‘scenery’. Though consternation eats you up on the inside, you trust that Childe wouldn’t do anything to you, at least not physically. What he is currently planning to do is a different matter.

Patience, you remind yourself. That might just be the only thing you have left.

“Now that that’s settled,” he says, going back to the steering wheel, “why don’t I take you home? I’m sure you’ll like it. It’s more comfortable and spacious than where you were living.”

In the most calm and even voice you could muster, you try pleading with him again. “Childe, please. Don’t do something that would make me hate you.”

He doesn’t even look at you when he answers. The lack of smile and his eyes fixed on the road as he continues driving does not help ease your increasing dread. “It might be a small bump, but the end destination is what matters in this case, not the journey.”

You glance to the door handle in an act of desperation but bite your lip when all hope is lost at the sight of the lock. Month old words hit you like a truck, patience being some elaborate scheme for the notorious members of society to make others more docile and submissive to them. After all this time, would it be wise to believe you’ll be alright?

[merakiui]

Helloooo! I’d like to order a flower bouquet + strawberry ice cream from the misc. menu as well as some lemon squares + custard donuts from the midnight menu for Scaramouche <3

yandere!scaramouche x (gender neutral) reader cw: yandere, nsfw, dub-con, unhealthy behaviors/relationship, friends with benefits, forced pregnancy/baby-trapping (no pronouns; reader has a pussy), modern college au note - thank you for checking in, dearest guest! enjoy your order! [lunar love hotel]

You’re writing a paper.

Sitting at your desk, scrolling through clothes online, you wonder if your meager paycheck will cover the shipping costs. This is all research. Research that is very necessary in the paper-drafting process, of course! You click on an outfit just as Scaramouche looks up from his phone.

Correction. You’re trying to write a paper.

“Great progress. I can really see the thought you put into this.”

“I’m envisioning it as we speak.”

“Yeah? Doesn’t seem to be getting you anywhere.” He sets his phone down and leans closer. “Last I checked you’re not writing about clothes.”

“Last I checked,” you say, mocking him, “I didn’t ask for commentary. Don’t you have anything better to do?” 

A smug smile sharpens on his face. “I can think of a few things.”

Groaning, you shove him away. “No way. Not today.”

“Why not? It didn’t seem to bother you that last time when we did it before your lecture. You were so out of it you didn’t want me to leave you alone. Isn’t that right, sweetheart?”

“Not my fault I was tired! Don’t tell me you’ve never said and done stupid things when you’re running on three hours of sleep.”

“Not once,” he declares, looking quite proud. As if it’s some grand achievement. Does he want an award? “And even if I was, I wouldn’t be reduced to sugary, sappy putty.”

“I called you ‘sweetheart’ once by mistake. Get over it.”

Scaramouche rests his elbow on the desk, his cheek in his hand. “I don’t think I want to.”

Shutting your laptop, you turn in your chair to face him. “And I don’t think I want to fuck you today.”

“You don’t have to.”

“Oh, you’re gonna do all the work?”

“That’s the plan. Be grateful I’m so good to you,” he teases, leaning closer and closer until—

You block your lips before he can capture them. “I really can’t today. Paper aside, I don’t have any protection and I’m not on birth control right now.”

“It doesn’t have to be inside.” He sits back in his chair, exuding casual confidence. “Unless you want to risk it.”

You try to put enough ice in your glare, but it melts quickly. You really shouldn’t. It’s not a safe day. You really, really shouldn’t…

Scaramouche raises a brow, waiting for your reply.

Despite everything, you’re wheedled into it anyway. You’re not even sure what you want. Is it yes or no? It’s been months since you fell into this arrangement with him—the campus’s infamous lone wolf who goes out of his way to make himself unapproachable. Or, according to your friends, he’s more of a lonely stray cat in need of a friend. Scaramouche had scoffed when you told him that.

Your friends are idiots, he said with a scowl. It only made him look even more like a grumpy cat in need of companionship. Not that you’d ever tell him that. It would only serve to stoke the flames of his ire.

But right now, looking up at him while he ruts into you, sweat sticking in all the right places, his hair falling over his eyes, you’re inclined to agree with that observation. There’s a depth to his gaze that draws you in, a sad glimmer hiding behind the ardor. There’s never been any attachment outside of the bedroom. You’re not even sure if he considers you a friend.

Still, you wonder…

“Scara, do you—” You cut yourself off with a startled gasp, your nails curling into his shoulders. He’s holding you down by your hips, fucking into you like the world’s about to end. “S-Slow down. Wait, I—aah—oh!”

He sucks in a staggered breath through grit teeth, his jaw set firmly. “You’re never going to leave me.”

Your brain stalls out, and suddenly you’re not sure how to respond. He doesn’t lessen the brutal pace at which he thrusts, so you’re forced to piece together a half-coherent answer amidst your groans.

“N-Not anytime soon—mmh… Why? What’s up?”

Scaramouche lifts his head from your neck. A strange smile turns the corners of his lips up. “It’s not a question. I wasn’t giving you a choice.”

You blink back at him, lust-drunk and dazed. The horror edges in, slow and steady like invasive rot. It isn’t until he’s pinning your legs up by your ears to force you into another position that the implication finally catches up to you. You claw at his back with weak strokes, babbling futile protests against his mouth. In response, his cock throbs inside of you, pressed so deep in this position you fear the repercussions. He kisses you with much the same force, insistent on driving you into the mattress—on pinning you here until you finally submit. Until the last of your resolve withers away, stamped out and replaced with something agreeable.

“Even if you wanted to,” he says around a shaky laugh, seeming positively deranged, “you couldn’t.”

You think you should be worried, but you’re so stunned with this development that your brain can’t keep up. Embarrassingly, you cum with a strangled sort of cry, your pussy clenching tight. He hisses through his teeth, fucks you through the high of your orgasm, and then falls with you, his own climax fast like a flash.

You’re panting in the aftermath. What just happened?

Scaramouche keeps you plugged with his cock for as long as he possibly can before he’s sliding out, flaccid and spent. For now, you suspect, for there will certainly be more later if your wits aren’t about you by then.

“Pill,” you mumble, voice hoarse from crying. You shake him, hoping he’ll climb off of you and get to it. “Scaraaa…”

Oddly, for someone who never shows any vulnerability, he clings. “We’ve got time. I’ll get it. Don’t worry.”

You don’t believe him. Not when his hand strays to your stomach. His palm brushes over the area once. He sighs, wholly satisfied.

“We’ve got time…”

Nine months of it, in fact. But that goes unspoken. If not today, there’s always tomorrow. You know he won’t rest until then. Neither will you. Your heart is too big, too soft, for that lonely stray cat, and part of you wonders if he knows that.