Are You Feeling Happy?

Rent-an-s/o!

About: You work as a rental s/o! The guys didn’t book you or anything, you’re just friends (with budding feelings) hanging out.

A/N: I wrote this while listening to Centimeter by the Peggies (if you know, you know)

Characters: Xiao, Childe, Venti

Wordcount: about 300 each

Commissions Open!

Also works the same job (is a rental boyfriend!)

The cafe’s heaters radiate warmth around the building like the hug of a fireplace. Chatter mingles with the smell of sweet vanilla and holiday spices, just as Xiao stirs his drink to mix the caramel with its contents.

“So, Mr Top-Rated Boyfriend,” you tease. “How hard was it to arrange a break during the Christmas period?”

Xiao raises a brow. “About as hard as it was for you…?”

You nod in faux-seriousness. “I see, so it was a hard-earned battle…”

“Was it that bad?” His lips quirk amusedly. “Or did you just get into a debate with your agency again?”

“I had to cancel a recent booking,” you admit, taking a bite of your dessert. “It was a regular client though, so they were understanding about it.”

A frown. “We could’ve just rescheduled our own hangouts, you know.”

Noticing Xiao’s expression, you make a resolute stab at your plate. “Nope, I wouldn’t allow it! Cafe-hopping with my best friend is a very important event, and I wasn’t about to back down just for a bit more money.”

His lips quirk. “What if it was a lot more money?”

“Hmm… it’d have to be enough to pay for a tower of macarons, and even more.” You nod to yourself, successfully drawing a laugh out of him. The playful mood makes your heart feel light, and you rest your elbows on the table to lean closer. “…So yeah, I wouldn’t have abandoned you.”

“I’m honored,” Xiao’s ears are slightly flushed from the walk you took earlier. You can’t help but admit that he was cute, on top of being really attractive. Golden eyes twinkle as he rests his cheek against the palm of his hand. “So what shall we do for the rest of winter?”

How cruel for him to be like this, and for you to feel at home with Xiao; you wonder if he feels it too, the push and pull of emotions leashed by both your occupations.

Keep reading

it always ends with i love you ft. wriothesley — in which you, a small floral shop owner, meet the duke of meropide by a chance encounter—and then you meet a bunch more too…but not so much by chance anymore

contains: 20.3k work count (please give it a chance i put my soul into it) ; female reader ; mature content—not suitable for minors ; strangers to friends to lovers ; flower shop au + florist reader ; reader has a small backstory regarding her dead father ; use of canon flowers and and lore, meaning i did my best so please be gentle on me with my botany facts ; heavy spoilers for wriothesley’s story quest and backstory, explores themes such as murder and hints at child exploitation and trafficking—all pertaining to his adopted home life ; slight oc’s because i gave a few of his adopted siblings names ; a fun neuvillette and clorinde appearance! ; a not so fun childe appearance + jealousy ; a short argument ; love confessions and getting together ; wriothesley is scared of love (anyone who had to kill their parents should be tbh) ; reader sits on his lap/lays on him ; there’s sex in every scene lol i got carried away—includes vaginal fingering ; cunnilingus ; nipple play ; hand + blow jobs ; unprotected vaginal sex ; creampie

the first time you meet wriothesley is by accident.

he doesn’t exactly come up to the surface regularly—he sees the sun frequently enough to remember what sunlight feels like if he tries to recall, but not enough that most people of fontaine would know he’s the duke of meropide just by looking at him.

he likes it that way. the duke is no small title, and he’d prefer the trip through the streets of the court without being stopped for idle chit-chat.

he doesn’t intend on stopping on his way to the palais, but you’re a bit of a unique circumstance.

he hears the smashing sound of something breaking before the scream, quickly glancing over his shoulder at the noise. nothing could have prepared him for a flower shop to be the source of such chaos—what could be chaotic about selling petals on a stem?

except you’re clumsily chasing after a man as he stumbles past your door, knocking over the potted plants on display in the process as you follow him.

the look of distress on your face as the pot falls and shatters compels him to investigate the scene. (of course, there’s a note of distress on your face before the pot falls, but the way it deepens when it does is almost criminal. your face is too lovely to have such creases in your forehead, even if he won’t admit as much out loud).

“stop! please,” you call, “you haven’t paid for those!”

thievery. wriothesley knows a thing or two about pocketing things that don’t belong to him.

first, it’s because he spends a portion of his life on the streets, surviving more than living. those moments reduce him down to a simple pocket thief at times. (he had standards for his crimes: never too much and only enough to survive for a bit. always from someone who dresses expensively and looks like they’re comfortable enough not to feel the damage to their wallets. and, of course, never from women).

second, it’s because people, on the streets or in the fortress, love to steal from those who are weak and vulnerable. people who are sleeping are of that classification of individuals, so wriothesley learns how to keep his things hidden and how to be a light sleeper. he’s never had too many things that are precious to him, of course, but he owns little enough that he’d notice his losses harshly should they come.

he hates thievery. partly because it reminds him of his past and the darkness that taints it, but mostly because it always involves someone innocent who doesn’t deserve to lose. not even a little.

his feet carry him over to the scene before he can stop himself—not that he would stop himself even if he did have control over his body, but it’s just that this particular circumstance seems to have him in some sort of trance. one that won’t allow him to look away from your face.

“please,” you follow the man past your shop’s door, “those are the last of my glaze lilies—i promised them in an order!”

the man running doesn’t seem to care about your pleas, snickering as he turns to give you an amused look, as if your distress is entertaining. he doesn’t make it far, though, before he bumps into a muscled chest.

“what the—”

wriothesley cuts him off, raising a brow. “i do believe the lovely lady here has asked for her flowers back. or did you miss that part?”

“and just who do you think you are, mister?” the man barks, glaring wriothesley up and down. (it’s a bit funny, considering he’s much shorter, so it takes a tad bit of effort on his part to give wriothesley the menacing once over it’s meant to be). “i don’t remember asking you what she asked.”

“oh me?” wriothesley cracks his knuckles casually, shrugging as he says, “duke of meropide at your service. i must say, i’m not very popular around here—not a lot of people know me, it seems.”

your jaw drops. the man’s face pales—which is a nice confirmation, at least, that he does have some sort of a brain.

“w-what? and just why would i believe that? you expect me to think the fortress’s duke is just prancing around the streets as if he hasn’t got duties? as if!”

wriothesley’s lips quirk up at the edges as he hums, fishing through the pocket of his shirt before he pulls out an envelope, sealed with the stamp of the iudex himself. there’s writing on it in clear letters, bold and italicized, as if just to mock the man.

to: duke wriothesley

from: iudex neuvillette

“that clear things up for you?” wriothesley asks, traces of a cheeky glint in his eyes as he raises a brow.

instantly, the man is clasping his hands, head bowing as a string of incoherent apologies flows past his shaky lips. “i-i’m sorry! i’ve never done anything like this before, you can check! my records are clean! i-it was a moment of weakness, but it won’t happen again, sir. p-please don’t take me to monsieur neuvillette. or court. or—”

“your first thieving gig, and you picked flowers?” wriothesley snorts, “i almost don’t want to bring you to court just save myself from the embarrassment.”

the man flushes, bashfully shrinking as he mumbles, “w-well i just…i just wanted to get flowers for my girlfriend for our anniversary and these…th-they’re her favorite you know? b-but they’re hard to come by since liyue is so far and…and the lady wouldn’t sell them to me so…you know…i uh…” the man trails off, wilting as wriothesley’s stares down, unimpressed. “i promised her i’d get them,” he adds, as if it’ll help.

“what a tragic sob story you got there,” wriothesley deadpans. “your girlfriend must love your honesty.”

“if i may interrupt,” you call from behind, making both men glance over to where you stand some distance away.

wriothesley forgot you were there, truthfully. but now that he’s taking in your appearance up closer, he can’t help but appreciate it. your features complement each other well—like an assortment of carefully arranged flowers, hand-picked one by one by celestia themselves.

“hello miss,” he nods, raising a hand to half-wave at you, “don’t worry, i’ll get this man out of your hair in a moment with your flowers too. just give me a sec—”

“no,” you say softly, “no it’s okay. he can keep some of them…i’m sure i can make do with a shorter hand than usual.”

he blinks. you couldn’t have possibly offered to let your thief keep his earnings at your expense, could you? he can’t decide if you're just that naive, just that foolish, or truly just that kind.

maybe all three, if he’s being honest.

“uh…are you sure?” he tilts his head in disbelief, “you want to let him keep the flowers?”

“partially,” you confirm, “it’s alright. everyone deserves flowers on their anniversary. especially their favorite.”

wriothesley decides you’re just that kind—and in some ways, it’s worse than being a bit on the naive side. at least you can sharpen yourself to become untrusting and skeptical if naivety gets you in trouble. kindness is as easy to take advantage of as it is to take for granted, and it’s not just something people like you can turn off like a switch.

“oh, thank you!” the man exclaims as soon as the words come out of your mouth, not wasting a second to grin at you as he says, “you’re really so kind! if you’d just tell the duke here that it was all a misunderstanding and that you’d like to drop all charges, then i’ll be on my way with partial the flowers—”

“make no mistake,” your hands find your hips as your face hardens with a certain strictness even he’s a bit startled by, “if you should come here and cause trouble again, i have the duke’s word to press double the charges next time. i would tread carefully if i were you—don’t ever let me catch you stealing from me again.”

wriothesley stares at you and gapes. he’s sorely mistaken about you—kindness is not the absence of your spitefulness, and the man shrinks back as you stare down at him expectantly.

“o-of course,” he says quickly, “it won’t happen again.”

“good,” you nod, “that’ll be five hundred mora, please.”

“b-but—”

“is there a problem?” you raise a menacing brow, making the man scramble to shake his head. 

“wow,” wriothesley snorts as the man scampers off after fishing enough mora from his pockets, “i suppose i underestimated your ability to handle the situation, miss.”

“i think i owe a good portion of my success to you, your grace,” you bow your head slightly, unable to meet his eyes as you nervously chuckle, “i don’t usually have robberies. the people in this area are familiar with me. they’re quite kind—i’ve never had someone as stubborn as him.”

“well, rest assured, if he bothers you again, you can come to find me for my word at court.”

“i’ll hold onto the offer,” you grin.

that chance meeting becomes history after a while. he comes and pays you a visit every time he’s at the surface, which isn’t all too often, but often enough that you start to look forward to at least one routine visit per month. sometimes, he teases you about whether or not you’ve had new thieves pay you a visit. other times, you make use of his strong hands and built muscles and cheekily order him around to move heavy bags of fertilizer around. 

he likes tea, you learn—he takes a very piqued interest in the jars of dried petals you keep on shelves, ones you tell him are good for making blends for tea, or to boil with water for natural remedies, or to make syrups for beverages like lemonade. it’s a slow, steady, blossoming friendship until, all at once, you feel incomplete without the routine visit from the fortress’s warden. you’re too reliant on the familiarity of explaining flowers, their origins, what stories they share, and what they mean—and likewise, you feel incomplete without his stories from the fortress, what the inmates are up to, and what changes he’s developing to make things better for the people under his wing. 

you like to think he feels the same way; otherwise, he wouldn’t come around as much as he does. 

sometimes he walks you home, and sometimes you invite him for tea. you drink coffee, but you don’t mind the trouble of brewing two beverages if it means some extra time with him in your cozy little home.

like today, where he sits comfortably at your dining table while you cut fresh bulle fruit as tea steeps in the hot water. he watches you with fond eyes, listening as you ramble intently about your recent endeavors at your flower shop.

“—and i think i’ve finally managed to grow a cactus from sumeru long enough to bloom my own henna berries,” you grin, looking at him brightly, pride settling into the crinkles of your eyes, “it did take some trial and error—fontaine rains far too often for cacti to survive, but this one i managed to grow indoors.”

“couldn’t you just get the berries delivered from sumeru? since you have plenty delivered from there already,” he asks in amusement. you huff, rolling your eyes as you walk over, setting the platter of fruit down before him. 

“of course, you’d want to take such a simple route—but plants are far more rewarding when you grow them yourself, you know. plus, every fruit i’ve managed to grow on my own here in fontaine has had a bit of a unique flavor as opposed to ones grown from their original nation. i’d like to see if that’s the case with these berries, too.”

“well, if that’s the case,” he hums, taking a slow sip from the tea you’ve brewed for him—it’s perfectly made to his liking, with two sugar cubes and piping hot just as you’ve learned he prefers. he closes his eyes and lets out a content sigh as the warmth trickles down his throat. “let me try one when they’re ready.”

“of course,” you brighten excitedly, as though the prospect of someone to share such a moment with is one you look forward to. there’s something that tickles in his chest, right beneath his ribcage, at the sight of your wide grin.

you chatter until the sun sets, warm, honeyed rays of orange and pink pouring through your windows and painting his skin vibrant hues. it’s about time for him to leave—you can tell even before he clears his throat and stands, grabbing the plate and mug and heading to the sink.

“i should go,” he says kindly, washing the dishes with so much familiarity that it almost feels domestic and natural to have him here. you shake the thought out of your head as quickly as it enters your head. “thank you for having me this evening.”

“oh, i think we’re past the formalities,” you huff a small laugh, “you’re doing my dishes.”

“technically they’re my dishes,” he chuckles, “since i did dirty them.”

you hum, walking over to where he stands as he turns the faucet off—until a small twist of your ankle has you gasping as you stumble forward. you brace yourself for the impact of the hardwood floor, but instead, you’re met with a firm yet soft chest as strong arms wrap around your waist and catch you before you can fall.

“oh,” you breathe as you open your eyes, staring into him with just as widened pupils as him. 

“are you okay?” he asks quietly, voice just barely audible as he whispers to you—he’s so close, so painfully close, you think the only reason you heard him was because of the proximity. 

“yeah,” you nod. it’s hardly a nod, really—if you were to move your head too much, you’d risk brushing your nose against his. or maybe even your lips. “i’m fine. thank you.”

“yeah, no problem,” his eyes are still trained on yours, and neither of you can find it in yourselves to pull away. you can’t, and he definitely doesn’t, and nothing seems to give as you stare at each other. you’re pressed against his chest, and his arms are wrapped around you, and there’s a strange beating in both of your chests that you think you can just barely make out.

they almost seem to beat in sync, rapid and untamed. so, so fast, you wonder if it’s even healthy.

you don’t know who does it first—or maybe it was the both of you. all you know is that one second, you’re staring at each other, and the next, your heads are tilted so that your lips meet tentatively. he hesitates at the first brush of your lips, but your hands cup his cheeks and pull him forward, making his eyes flutter shut as he shakily breathes into your mouth. it’s so slow, so dizzyingly slow, that you wonder if time has just stopped altogether to grant you a moment with no interruptions. 

he fits perfectly against you, the soft flesh of his cheeks spilling over your palms, your thumb rubbing affectionately into the skin as he nips at your lips, kissing you like he’s waited his whole life to feel you. the curves of his mouth connect with the curves of yours like pieces of a puzzle, like he was carved to match you from the same stone. 

you’re not sure how long you kiss like that, but slowly, it grows needier, more quick and hasty as your hands leave his cheeks to wander to his hair and gently tug at the strands as his hands wander to your waist and lower back, feeling every curve of you as he groans into your mouth. 

he tries to pull away, but you chase after him, unwilling to let go.

“w-wait,” he mumbles, “maybe we should stop—”

“you really want to?” you ask breathlessly, and all it takes is one glance down at your glossy, swollen lips for him to close his eyes and shiver.

“no,” he admits hoarsely, “i don’t. are…are you sure about this?”

“yes,” you whisper instantly.

he doesn’t waste a moment, quickly pulling you into your bedroom as you both collapse on the mattress. you climb onto his lap, crotch pressing against the semi-hardened erection in his pants, the press of your heat against his bulge earning a low, drawn-out groan from him that shoots straight to your clit with a dull ache. 

“sweetheart,” he says in between kisses, making you inhale sharply at the pet name, “you’re killing me here.”

“okay,” you smile against his mouth, pecking it sweetly before you add, “then let me do something about that.”

he doesn’t expect you to drop down between his legs, face to face with the obvious tent in his pants—wriothesley is a gentleman, a giver before he is a taker. his first instinct is to protest as he opens his mouth and starts to say, “hang on—you don’t have to—”

“i want to,” you pout, looking up at him, “please? i want to.”

when was the last time someone looked up at him like that, staring up at him like pleasing him is the only way they’ll survive? he doesn’t recall, doesn’t think it’s ever happened, in fact. he groans, head falling back against your bed frame as he nods slowly. 

“okay,” he concedes, lifting his hips up so you can pull his pants down his legs, leaving him in his boxers. there’s a wet patch where his tip meets the cloth, the evidence of pre cum drooling from his swollen head that makes you hum in satisfaction as you leave a tender kiss on the spot through the fabric. he gasps, hips jolting as his thighs clench at the teasing touch.

“can i?” you purr, hand rubbing soothingly over his tense thigh as he swallows and nods, looking anywhere but at you as he breathes harshly. 

“y-yes,” he grunts, “please.”

you’re freeing his cock as soon as he utters the plead, letting him spring free and meet the cool air. he hisses, gritting his teeth as his chest rises and falls erratically, labored breaths that he tries to use to calm himself as he stands painfully hard between his legs. 

“pretty,” you murmur, entranced at the sheer size of him—he’s flushed an almost painful red at his thick tip, leaking enough pre cum that you’d think he might have already had his release with the way it runs down the side of his hardened length. 

your hand wraps gently around the tip, thumb smearing the pre cum along the tip before coating the rest of his cock, using it as lubrication for the steady stroke of your hand along the girth. he throws his head back, groaning as his hips buck into your touch before he stops himself, frantically trying to keep himself still and let you take your time. 

“f-fuck,” he rasps, “that…that feels nice.”

“yeah?” you breathe, smiling as you press a kiss to his thigh as he chokes on a grunt while your hand slowly pumps him. “am i doing it right?”

“you’re doing just fine,” he assures, biting his lip as he finally can’t keep himself from bucking impatiently into your fist any longer, “feel free to do more, though.”

you giggle, pressing a soft kiss to his lip before gliding your tongue through his slit and watching as he melts against your bed frame at the gesture, body loosening up like he’s limbless as you slowly take him into your mouth, swallowing around his cock and bobbing your head, pumping the rest with your hand that you can’t fit down your throat. 

“shit,” he curses, hand cupping the back of your head as he guides you up and down his length, moaning your name when you swirl your tongue around the tip, “you…you’re so good at this, yeah? take me so well in that pretty mouth of yours.”

you hum around him, making him cry out at the vibrations around his cock, one hand running through his hair as he tries to keep himself grounded, the other still cradling the back of your head. he’s a gentleman, though, living up to one just as much as he always lets on to be when he doesn’t force you to take more of him by pushing your head down or burying himself deeper into your throat by fucking his hips into your mouth. he lets you do things at your own pace, and you think it’s enough when you feel the telling signs of his release as his panting grows harsher and his cock twitches in your mouth.

“w-wait, wait,” he says frantically, “i’ll cum—i’ll cum. not yet, not until i have you.”

you reluctantly pull away, a trail of spit connecting from your lips to his tip that makes him close his eyes and groan, clenching his jaw as his near-orgasm dies down to nothing again. his cock is achingly hard, hot and swollen and throbbing after denying himself for the sake of feeling you.

“c’mere,” he motions for you to climb onto his lap. you do, sitting on his thigh as he slowly trails a thumb under your shirt, rubbing the skin with a feather-light, heated touch that has you shivering against him. “you sure you want this?”

“i want it,” you whisper, leaning to press a kiss to his lips that he reciprocates with a low hum of approval, “with you.”

“such a sweet way with words,” he murmurs, slowly pulling your blouse over your head and unclasping your bra, tossing them to the side as he marvels at the view of your tits. “such a sweet view, too. beautiful.” 

you flush at the praise, looking away. but his hands grab at your breasts, large as they cup them and massage lightly, thumbs running over the pert nipples as you shudder and breathe out a light gasp. 

“wriothesley, need more—”

“give me a moment,” he shushes you, “and then i’ll give you what you want.”

he admires you like that for a bit, sat on his thigh as your eyes flutter shut and his thumbs tease your nipples, wetness pooling in your core that he can feel on his thigh—you’d be embarrassed, you really would, but it’s not as though his cock is any less leaky at the head. 

finally, he inhales sharply, sitting up slightly to unbutton his shirt, revealing the scars down his chest before he helps you out of your pants. you stare at the harsh, jagged lines that pain his skin, raised, discolored skin, the only evidence of some brutal, vicious past that he survived. 

your thumb traces down the lines, making him shiver at the fragileness behind the touch.

“where’d you get this?” you murmur, staring at him curiously. 

“hmm? oh the scar on my body? it's from a gash i got while battling a gigantic undersea monster that tried to take over the fortress of meropide…” he stares at you cheekily as you blink, looking at him unimpressed. “hah, just kidding.”

“do you ever take anything seriously?” you shake your head and huff, but there’s endearment on your face as you fight back a smile.

“on the contrary, milady,” he murmurs, grabbing your hips and pulling you back slightly, exposing your drenched cunt before he slowly sinks two fingers into your folds and curls them against the back of your walls, “i take this quite seriously.”

you gasp at the feeling, his digits rubbing against your walls and angling to hit a sensitive, achingly sweet spot at the back of your cunt. it’s precise, the way he pumps his fingers into you, slowly sinking in a third digit while you mewl and throw your head back. the heel of his palm catches against your clit, the sweet friction building your orgasm up slowly, slowly, until suddenly, you’re near the edge all at once. 

“c’mon, don’t hold back now,” he drawls, voice low and sweet and so attractive, you feel like the sound of him alone is enough to send you tumbling over the edge, “why don’t you be a sweet little thing and let go for me, hm?”

you do—instantly, you do, crying out his name is choked garbles as he works you through your orgasm with his fingers, still thrusting into you with a precise pace. finally, when you’re done clenching around him, he pulls his digits out, the slickness of your pussy coating them as he hums in satisfaction. 

“think you’re ready?” he asks softly, cradling the back of your head with his good hand as he pulls you closer, “or do you need one more from me?”

“i’m ready,” you huff impatiently, “i need you, need to feel you already.”

“okay, okay,” he laughs, amused but not anymore patient himself as his cock pulses between his legs, “i’m not trying to wait any longer, either. do you have a…uh…y-you know…”

you snort at the way he trails off awkwardly, flushing at the thought of asking for a condom as if he’s not completely nude under you. “no,” you giggle, pinching his cheek as he huffs, “but we don’t need one. it’s fine.”

“okay,” he nods slowly. his hands grab at your hips, firm yet so gentle with the way they lift you up and guide you to angle over his swollen cock, slowly helping you sink down on him as he chokes on a grunt when his head pushes past your folds. 

you gasp as soon as he intrudes into your tight hole, splitting you open on his thick girth as you take him inch by inch until you’re sat on his lap completely, buried completely with his length as his jaw clenches at the tight squeeze of you around him. 

“wri—wriothesley,” you sob brokenly, unable to say anything else besides cracked repeats of his name. he’s so big, buried so deep, and leaving you so full, you’re not sure if you have it in you to fuck onto him from this position. 

he takes things into his own hands, though—roughly grabbing your hips and pulling you back before helping you sink back down on him again, rolling his own hips upward to bury deeper into you. your head spins, and all you can think to do is weakly plant your hands onto his shoulders before you roll your hips, grinding down on his length and sloppily fucking yourself onto him.

he bullies past your folds, curves deliciously into the most intimate parts of you, fat tip slamming against the soft, sensitive spot that makes you see white. pleasure burns up your spine, building a coil in your belly that grows tighter, tighter, tighter—so close yet so far from snapping and letting you plummet into your second release. 

“that’s it,” he grunts, “fuck—you’re so tight, so good. i’ve…i’ve never felt anything so good. it’s like you were made for me, weren’t you? take me so well, fit around me so well.”

his hand moves to your clit, thumb pressing against the sensitive bundle of nerves and rubbing merciless circles against it as you mewl, head burying into his neck as your nails claw at his shoulder. everything is so good—so hot and filthy and leaves you impatiently desperate for some form of release. the friction of his cock dragging along every ridge leaves your mind hazed, and the harsh press of his tip against your sweet spot leaves your vision blurry. 

you’re not sure how you even have the strength to rock yourself onto his stiff length, but somehow you manage, and he seems keen on helping you, too, with rough, bruising hands that grip your waist with a punishingly tight grasp.

“c-can’t hold on much longer,” you cry, voice a strangled sob that’s muffled into his skin, “i’m s-so close. please.”

“me too,” he pants, voice just as strained as yours as he moans through a cracked voice when you clench down on his particularly tightly, “me too, sweetheart. i’m right there with you, alright? let go—c-c’mon.”

once more, you cum around him—this time on his cock instead of his fingers, and if the first time felt good, the second time is devastating. your vision practically goes white as your walls spasm around him, slick and dripping with your release and mixing with his own as he follows you not long after. his cock jolts, pumping hot, sticky ropes of his seed deep into you, and both of your bodies are slumped against one another as you barely roll your hips, sloppy pace with no rhythm as you focus on getting yourselves through the ecstasies of your orgasms. 

his thumb is still pressing against your clit, and your hands have left his shoulders to bury into his sweaty hair, tugging fiercely at the dark strands and making him groan at the mix of pain and pleasure. 

finally, you both ride out the final few waves, him slumping against your bed as you fall against his sturdy chest, face still buried into his neck. sweat clings to your skin, but you don’t mind the feeling of his damp skin against yours, not when the warmth of your body makes the afterglow feel so sweet. your fingers thread through his hair, soothing over his scalp with the rake of your nails where you’d just tugged so harshly, and his palms glide up and down your hips, rubbing gentleness back into the parts where he dug bruises along the skin. 

“wait, is that watering can supposed to be a dog?” he asks out of the blue, making you lift your head and look over your shoulder.

“yes,” you quirk a brow, watching as he lets out a small snort as he looks at the watering can by your plants in wonder.

“it’s pretty ugly.”

“rude!” you gasp, pulling away slightly as he shakes under you in laughter, “i think it’s adorable!”

“do you now?” he bites his lips, attempting to suppress the smile that threatens to take over, “you have…interesting taste.”

“oh, you’re dead to me,” you spit dramatically, collapsing back against his chest as you bury your head into his neck again. “dead to me, i say.”

“my apologies,” he snickers. his hand rubs slowly into your hip, quietly humming for a moment before he asks, “what made you so passionate about plants?”

“i can’t just really like them?” you challenge.

“sure,” he shrugs, eyeing the watering can again as he smiles, “but you don’t give the impression that you just happen to just really like leaves, and that’s it.”

“there’s more to plants than leaves,” you scoff, rolling your eyes. and then, much gentler this time, “my father was a scholar from sumeru. an herbologist.” your voice is a quiet murmur, a low hum as you speak into his neck while his hands are still rubbing into your hips, “i used to be fascinated by his journals and all the plants he’d seen. he died when i was young, so sometimes…sometimes i try to grow them here in fontaine myself. just to feel close to him.”

“do you?” he asks quietly, staring at the various plants that decorate your small home. it’s cozy, he thinks, so lively and warm that it almost doesn’t feel like you’re the only inhabitant. “do you feel close to him when you do?”

“if it works,” you admit, “it’s not always easy to recreate the same conditions they’re meant to grow in.”

“i think you do an impressive job,” he praises, earning a slow smile from you that he can feel curve into his skin, “i’ve yet to come across a flower shop in fontaine with as much variety as yours.”

“you flatter me, your grace,” you chuckle, pulling away as you stare at him, the tousled hair from where his hand ran through, the swollen bottom lip where his teeth sank in, the flushed skin where heat settled. you take all of it in slowly, admiring him as he looks up at you through lidded eyes.

“do i? i meant it seriously, not in flattery,” he raises a brow and smirks, “if i wanted to try flattery on you, i think i’d have some other choice words.”

“don’t be so insatiable,” you gently swat at his chest, earning a chuckle from him. “will you be able to stop by tomorrow?”

“i’m afraid not,” he sighs, “i have a meeting with some people from the palais tomorrow at the fortress. it’ll run a bit late.”

“oh,” you try to hide the disappointment in your voice, but he seems to sense it instantly. “that’s okay. i just had a blend i thought you might like to try—for tea, that is. it’s um…i dried the petals myself, and it’s new. i thought i’d let you be the first to try it to let me know what you think.”

you try not to giggle at the way he perks up at the mention of tea.

“ah, i’m afraid i won’t have time tomorrow. but…” he coughs, trailing off as he looks away, contemplating his words.

“but…?” you press.

“but…well, i have a few guards returning tomorrow from the surface from a few tasks i gave them. i could have them stop by the shop to escort you down to the fortress if that works for you…it’s okay if you can’t, though! i can always come by sometime this week when my duties aren’t as—”

“that sounds nice,” you cut him off, grinning widely, something close to excitement blooming across your features, brighter than any set of petals in your shop, he thinks. “you can give me an official tour of the fortress, perhaps. i’ve only ever heard about it through stories.”

“as you wish, my lady,” he winks.

he leaves not too long after—you try not to focus on his lingering scent in your sheets once you settle back in after bidding him goodbye. it’s oddly peaceful, being surrounded by him even when he’s not there, and sleep lulls over you quicker than usual. 

the scent is faded by the time you wake up, so you take one last deep breath to inhale it before you set off to get ready for the day, counting down the hours before you get to see him again.

——————————

as promised, a group of fortress guards stop by your shop, politely waiting for you to close up before you join them on their return. 

the fortress is darker than you expected—but not at all as small as your mind anticipated. in fact, it’s huge. you follow the guards, making idle chatter as they take you up an elevator, up, and up, and up—until finally, you finally arrive on the floor of his office. 

you’re so busy taking in all you can of the fortress that by the time they escort you to his office door, you remember why you’re here in the first place. to bring wriothesley dried petals of sweet flowers that you grew yourself—flowers often make for a wonderful tea blend, and learning his passionate liking for the drink makes you feel compelled to share with him every one of the various floral teas you’ve learned about in your time as a florist. 

you knock on the door of his office—except, oddly enough, there’s more than one voice you can make out from the room. you didn’t think his meeting would still be in session by the time you arrived, making you anxiously regret the knock as soon as your knuckles leave the surface of the door.  

but he answers before you can think too much of it. “come in,” his voice calls. 

“your grace,” you hum, stepping in, “if this is a bad time, then i can…”

you trail off. both fontaine’s chief justice and champion duelist stand in his office, gathered around his desk as he sits and sifts through files. of course, wriothesley is a duke, which is no small title by any means, but you’re caught more than a little off guard as you step in and share the room with two of fontaine’s more important figures in the justice system.

“no,” he says casually, “come in, you’re right on time. i was just telling miss clorinde about the delicious tea blend you would bring for her to try. she couldn’t wait a moment longer.”

“if you want to try it so badly, just say so,” she rolls her eyes.

“fine,” he huffs, lips curling into a slight pout, “i’d like to try the tea you promised me. clorinde will pass, though.”

“i think i’ll try it, as well,” she chimes in, suppressing a smile as wriothesley crosses his arms.

“but you just said—”

you giggle, walking over as you hand him the bag with dried petals, grinning at the amusing dynamic, and murmur, “i believe it would be the polite thing to do if you made an extra cup for the madam while making yours.”

“picking her side, are we? such an act of betrayal won’t be forgotten,” he huffs. still, almost as excited as a child opening a present, he opens the bag to add the petals to the tea maker he keeps at his desk. you watch with fondness at the action. “you still owe me a present, by the way. and tea won’t do—i’ve just received a batch.”

“then i suppose i can gift you a new tie,” clorinde hums, eyeing the loosened tie around his neck and making him furrow his brows as he subconsciously straightens it, “something that fits your neck better so you look a bit more put together.”

it’s almost like she sees through the both of you, eyeing between you and him with a hint of a knowing glint in her eyes. wriothesley scowls, giving her a petulant glare.

“there’s nothing wrong with my tie. i look just fine.”

“i do believe it’s a stylistic choice,” neuvillette pipes up from the side, “it doesn’t seem to be an issue with the tie itself.”

you snort at the way the joke flies over his head. “you’re right, monsieur,” you join in the banter, “i do believe his grace has a rather…unique choice of style.”

“i wonder if he ever plans to properly wear the coat he always seems to keep hanging over his shoulders,” clorinde adds, the earlier grin she attempted to fight back now fully curled into her lips. you laugh, much to wriothesley’s dismay.

“perhaps he just values being prepared,” you hum, “one can never tell when the fortress will suddenly be too cold. someone as busy as the duke surely can’t afford the wasted time to go and fetch a coat.”

“ah,” she nods, “i suppose you’re right. he is too busy learning legal codes as of late.”

“i take it that my gift has been useful, then?” neuvillette brightens, turning to a miserable wriothesley as he rubs his temples wearily.

“most helpful,” he sighs, not bothering to explain to the iudex that he’s once more missed the point of the joke. 

“oh, we’re only joking,” you laugh, taking the tea cup sitting at his desk and pouring him a glass of the now freshly brewed tea, “it’s all in good fun, your grace.”

“wriothesley is just fine,” he mumbles, “as you can see, this isn’t a very…formal meeting.” 

he watches as you carefully make his cup, one sugar cube as opposed to his usual two—before he can point it out, however, you beat him to it. “i know you’re particular about your tea. i can see it on your face you’re about to insist i give you two, but this is a very sweet blend as it is. one will suffice.”

“careful when it comes to his tea,” clorinde warns, “he’ll be in a foul mood all day if it doesn’t live up to his standards.”

“not true,” he grumbles. as if to prove a point, he takes a sip, slowly blinking before he looks at you with an awed grin, “it’s lovely. you’re right, it is just perfectly sweet with one cube.”

“perhaps you’re the only person he won’t make a fuss with then,” clorinde teases, “he’s got quite the list of grievances if i make him a cup of tea.”

“that’s because you don’t know how to make proper tea,” wriothesley rolls his eyes, “there’s a set of steps you’re meant to follow, you know.”

“water is a most simple beverage,” the iudex cuts in, “one that has many complexities in flavor, as well. perhaps you should consider it as a fitting option if tea gives you too much trouble.”

“i would hate to think of the wrath the poor inmates would have to face if he were to miss a single tea time,” you grin, fighting back a chuckle as wriothesley takes a tired sip from his cup, resigning himself to his fate as the target of your banter, “water simply won’t do.”

“well, i believe we should be off,” clorinde looks at neuvillette, “perhaps we should leave them to themselves.”

“ah, yes,” the chief justice nods politely, “there are many more files for me to read through at the office.”

“do you ever take the day off?” wriothesley raises a brow, “wouldn’t hurt.”

“even his dreams are of legal cases, i’m sure. he wouldn’t last a day on vacation,” clorinde hums.

“i don’t typically dream when i sleep,” neuvillette frowns, still so serious that you choke on a snort as you try to hold back you giggles. wriothesley looks at you with an amused grin, biting his lip to hide a chuckle himself.

“i’ll be seeing you,” he waves as the two leave, “and hopefully with my present ready next time,” he calls to clorinde with a pointed look. she rolls her eyes, fondly waving as she heads out the door.

“i didn’t know you were friends with such important people,” you murmur as they leave, making him raise a brow as he takes another sip.

“friends isn’t the best title for it—consider us work acquaintances.”

“with banter like that, i hardly believe it,” you chuckle, earning you a half-hearted glare from him over the rim of his tea cup.

“did you have your fun at my expense?” he asks dryly—but there’s no real bite to the words, “it seems you got along quite well with clorinde.”

“monsieur neuvillette is lovely too,” you giggle, “even if he’s not exactly…the earliest to catch onto jokes.”

he laughs at that, setting down his empty cup as he stands, eyeing the door to his office quickly before stepping closer to you, eyes staring down at your lips as you chew on the bottom and wait for him to make his move. 

“thank you for the tea,” he murmurs lowly, lips just barely a millimeter away from yours, “it was quite sweet. i enjoyed it.”

“there are plenty of other floral blends i have for you to try,” you hum. 

he grins, hands finding your waist before he whispers, “surely i couldn’t take all that from you without offering something in return, could i? i wouldn’t want it to seem like i'm taking bribes.”

“oh?” you breathe, grabbing a hold of his tie and tugging him closer until your lips meet his in a slow, heated kiss. it awakens a sick, insatiable heat in your core almost instantly. “what did you have in mind, your grace?”

he groans at the way your voice teasingly lilts at the title, hungrily chasing after your lips again. it’s more tongue than it is anything, messy and almost too scandalous to take place in his office where anyone could knock and come in at a moment’s notice. he seems to know it, too, because slowly, he guides you backward, slow steps that don’t interrupt the lock of your lips until your back meets a door.

“why don’t i show you,” he breathes—and then the doorknob is twisted open, and you’re gently pushed in with an arm curled around your waist to guide you. there’s a bedroom connected to his office, you realize. 

not entirely a shock—you’re sure the duke of the fortress has his own quarters to sleep in away from the other inmates, but it doesn’t surprise you less enough that you don’t pull away to take a glance around. 

it’s empty, mainly. not too many things besides a few scattered files and another tea maker with a few cups surrounding it at a desk in the corner. the sheets are dark grey, plain, and neatly made, with two pillows and nothing else. it has no more than what he needs, no more than what’s necessary. no hints of anything that’s his, anything that makes the room belong to him outside of being a mere sleeping quarters. 

“not one for decor?” you hum, wrapping your arms around his neck as your fingers fiddle with the collar of his shirt.

“i only come here at night to sleep,” he shrugs, “never felt the need.”

“everyone needs a space that’s theirs, don’t you think? even a few flowers would brighten the place up.”

“offering me more business?” he chuckles, making you roll your eyes, “and they’d die. there isn’t much sun down here.”

“i can think of a few options that would thrive,” you murmur.

“so it is business,” he quips. sigh exasperatedly, and he grins cheekily at you before you’re gently pushed to fall onto his bed, his body moving to hover over you as your legs wrap around his waist. his cock is semi-hard through his pants, and you wiggle your hips to press against it, the friction making him groan as you feel him stiffen even more from your actions. 

“i think i’d like my payment now,” you hum, making him raise a brow.

“eager?” he asks, making your hand travel to squeeze at his bulge.

“and you aren’t?” you challenge.

“fuck,” he grunts, shuddering at the feeling, “looks like you got me.”

it happens faster than you can process—the shedding of clothes, the way his fingers slowly sink into you, pumping in and out expertly as your head spins from the way he brushes against your sensitive spots. he’s quick, the way he stretches you apart with his digits, adding a second and third finger with little to no time to waste. you hardly have time to accommodate the third when you feel a familiar ache building up steadily. 

“c-close,” you say shakily, voice brokenly whispering against his mouth as he drinks up your moans, “i’m going to—”

“i know,” he hums, “shh. just let go—you’re doing so well.” 

the praise shatters you—you break at the way he sounds so in awe of you, of the way you suck his fingers into your slick cunt, so tight and wet with every clench. your back arches, and your hips roll into his hand, whimpering as his palm rolls over your sensitive clit. “god,” you gasp, “wriothesley, please.”

“please what?” he drawls, “you already got what you needed.”

“please let me feel you.”

“such a demanding price for some tea,” he sighs, “alright. i guess i can afford it.”

the nudge of his cock against your folds is enough to make you mewl, a sweet, whiny little cry that he groans at—every sound you make leaves an ache shooting up his stiff cock in the form of a twitch, like your every cry calls out to him. he responds with a rough thrust of his hips, burying himself into the depths of you, so deep and so close you can practically feel his pulse alongside yours. 

“so full,” you gasp, panting as you try to adjust to the sheer girth of him. he waits a moment, jaw clenched and teeth grit as he waits for you to nod your head and signal him to move.

“and you’re so tight,” he grunts, moaning softly against your ear as he nibbles on your earlobe, “i wouldn’t mind it if you charged interest either, just so you know. i’ll pay it over as many times as you want.”

“oh be quiet, would you?” you roll your eyes at his words at first, but then they roll back at the feeling of his thick, swollen tip pressing against the deep, sweet spot in the back of your walls. he lets out a breathy laugh, kissing the corner of your mouth so he doesn’t muffle the precious little moan you let out. 

“sure thing,” he hums, “i like listening to you more, anyway.”

“oh,” you gasp, “oh—wriothesley!” his finger teases over your clit, making your walls quiver around him as you feel your second orgasm creep up on you. “w-wait—i’m close.”

“why would i wait?” he asks in amusement, “that’s the idea.”

“t-together,” you whimper, pouting up at him through swollen lips and watery eyes, “please. please.”

he curses, closing his eyes and inhaling shakily at the way you look so fucked out, so drunkenly hazed on pleasure from the drag of his cock along your every ridge. you ask so sweetly—and who is he to deny such an innocent request?

“fuck—okay, sweetheart. fine by me,” he pants, rolling his hips harshly as he works himself to his own orgasm. his thumb teases your clit cruelly, fast and merciless one second, and a slow, bare feather’s touch the next. it keeps you right on the edge, a drooling mess of broken pleas as he finally approaches his own high. “close?”

“so close,” you gasp, twitching as he buries himself deep into you again.

“me too,” his voice cracks, “c-cum with me—please.”

hearing him plead sends you over the edge again—your first orgasm pales in comparison to your second. you didn’t even think that was possible, but the thick of his cock bullying into you is infinitely better than his nimble digits. the blunt head hits all the right spots, curves in all the right angles, and fucks you through your high expertly without even trying. 

you both cry out each other's names like prayers, muffled strings of curses, and breathy gasps that you swallow up between slow, sloppy, open-mouthed kisses. finally, when the last few twitches of his cock finish painting his release into you, he slumps on the bed beside your body, body shaking in slight tremors as he catches his breath. 

“you okay?” he asks through a labored voice, “didn’t hurt you?”

“i’m okay,” you breathe, smiling softly. he closes his eyes, relaxing into the mattress, pulling the covers to tuck the both of you in before he stares up at the ceiling, arms folded behind his head while he seems to be deep in thought. “what’re you thinking about?” you murmur.

“just how good you got along with clorinde,” he hums quietly, almost in wonder. “she’s not exactly the easiest to banter with so quickly.”

“well, i guess it’s not too hard if it’s at your expense,” you tease.

“ah, yes,” he sighs, pretending to woefully shake his head, “i’ve been reduced to the butt of the joke one too many times today, it seems.”

he grins to himself at the sound of your quiet laughter, so soft and sweet, so perfectly filling up the quietness in the room, bouncing off the walls and ringing in his ears like a symphony. you stare up at the ceiling yourself, eyeing the pipes, the dark amber metal that makes up his home. it’s quiet like that for a bit—not awkward or uneasy, almost like you’ve known him for ages. almost like this is natural.

“can i ask you something?” you murmur after some time, shifting under the covers to face him. 

he raises a brow, looking at you curiously. “you’re scaring me with that look. going to confess some wicked crime you want me to help you hide?”

“it’s not like that,” you huff, rolling your eyes. carefully, as if treading unknown territories (you are, in all fairness), your fingers find his bicep, running along the skin soothingly. it’s an affectionate touch—you and wriothesley only touch each other for physical pleasure, nothing more. this is new, something you’re freshly navigating with a weak compass that points back and forth between your heart and your head, unsure whether to follow logic or emotion. 

“well, go ahead and ask,” he insists, “you’ve got me curious, anyway.”

“what…what did you serve for? when you were an inmate,” you say quietly. he tenses under your touch, muscles becoming rigid as you instantly regret the question. your fingers pull away at the same time as you start speaking, “it’s okay if you don’t want to answer! i just got curious and—”

his hand catches your retreating wrist, gently pulling it closer, closer, until your hand rests on his chest. this is definitely uncharted territory—but his hand firmly lays over yours as he presses your palm over his bare chest. 

“it’s fine,” he mumbles, “it’s not exactly something people in my inner circle don’t know.”

“oh,” you whisper, “i’ve been promoted to inner circle, huh?”

“you’ve seen me naked,” he snorts, eyeing you with a hint of amused disbelief, “you’ve sucked me off, in fact. i think there’s a special other circle inside the circle just for you.”

“okay, no need to get all…”

“all what?” he teases, waiting for you to finish.

“all uncouth about our activities!” you huff, face feeling hot as he grins.

he laughs, wrapping an arm around you, pulling you against his side so your cheek presses against a muscled pec as his warm hand traces circles into your hip. you gasp slightly at the sudden gesture but relax all too quickly, your own hand moving to rub into his chest slowly, feeling the rough scars and tracing them with your fingertips.

“i was adopted when i was young from an orphanage. when i was a bit older,” he swallows, voice quiet, serious—so oddly vulnerable, you think you’re talking to a new version of him altogether, “i found a diary in my mother’s drawer. i didn’t…i didn’t mean to snoop. i was just looking for some paper for my sister to color with.”

“you had a sister?” you ask softly, looking up to see his jaw tighten slightly. 

“i had quite a few siblings,” he admits, voice strained. “older and younger. my parents would adopt a few children at a time and raise them until they were old enough to be adopted into families of greater means. and then they’d adopt more younger children. i thought they were perfect parents,” his eyes stare off distantly, unfocused as they look up at the ceiling, hand mindlessly wandering along your hip as you listen.

“until…?”

“until i read that diary,” his voice hardens, still strained as he clenches his jaw and swallows thickly again, “they were records. of my older siblings, the ones i thought were adopted off. all of their names were followed by prices, and the ones who didn’t have prices had been crossed off. i didn’t understand until i saw my own name and my brother antoine’s. we had blank spaces next to ours.”

“how come?” you furrow your brows, looking at him in jarred curiosity. 

“because we weren’t sold yet,” he smiles ruefully, “i realized we were being sold off like livestock. and i started to piece together why i had never heard from any of my siblings even when they’d promised to write. i…i never knew what became of them.”

“oh, wriothesley,” you say gently, so delicate, he closes his eyes and lets out a shaky breath. you press a soft kiss to his chest under you, hand moving up to cup his cheek, “what awful people.”

“i…i should have kept it to myself,” he whispers shakily, “i didn’t…i couldn’t figure out what to do, so i told antoine—i thought…i figured maybe…” he trails off, eyes closed once more as he breathes heavily, trying to collect the composure he fights so fiercely to keep.

“it’s okay,” you kiss his jaw, “we can forget about it. i’m sorry for—”

“no,” he shakes his head. “i want you to know.”

it should make you feel special—maybe even a little happy that he trusts you enough to want to share. but nothing about this makes you feel anything but pain—you can feel his pain, every inch of it. from the way his hand clasps around your waist in a shaky grip to ground himself to the way his jaw is tight under your lips as they press a soothing kiss to the angle of it. every part of him is in pain, and you can feel it. deep in your own bones, like a lingering ache. one that runs years deep, living in the deepest, most intimate parts of your body.

you don’t mind it, though. you don’t mind sharing his pain, not if it’s him.

“okay,” you nod slowly, “okay.”

he inhales sharply, taking a deep breath before he continues. “i told him because i knew we were next. i thought maybe we could have figured out a plan together. but he asked my mother about the diary, what the prices meant, and why we’d never heard from the others once they’d left. he was gone the next morning—my mother told us he was adopted, but i knew. i knew he was merely disposed of. and it was my fault.”

“it was not your fault,” you turn your head swiftly, looking up at him in disbelief as he scoffs and shakes his head.

“if i hadn’t told him, if i handled it on my own—”

“then what? he would have been fine? you don’t know that, what if he was sold off for something awful? or found out on his own without you? you were a child, and you didn’t know that he’d choose to do that.”

“but i still could have kept quiet,” he chuckles dryly, voice cracking as he adds, “i could have gotten us both out of there. on my own.”

“you shouldn’t have to have done it on your own,” you cup his cheek, bringing him to face you as your forehead presses against his, “you didn’t want to be on your own, did you?”

“no,” he admits, lips trembling, “i didn’t.”

“and that’s okay,” you murmur, rubbing a thumb over his cheekbone, “you didn’t deserve to be alone.”

“maybe it was for the better, though,” he sniffles.

“a lot of things are. we can’t hope to predict everything for what would turn out better.”

“he died,” wriothesley chokes, “my brother. he died that night—i…i knew he did. so i ran the next day, when my parents were busy, i snuck off and ran. i didn’t come back until a few years later and i…” his breath catches in his throat, glancing at you for a moment. there’s something fleeting in his eyes. doubt, maybe—perhaps even fear.

you’re not entirely sure, but you press a kiss to his lips, soft and tender, so unlike your usual heated ones. something that’s shared not for the sake of pleasure but for the sake of knowing you’re there—that he has you. you’re both here, together, just the two of you. he can feel your warmth, and you can feel his. 

it eases the tension somewhat, making his rigid muscles relax as he pulls you closer. 

you pull away first, murmuring a soft, “i don’t care what you did. whatever it is.”

“you say that now,” he chuckles weakly, “but you don’t even know what i did.”

“i don’t care,” you say seriously, “i don’t. whatever you did, it was because you didn’t have a choice.”

“i killed them,” he says against your mouth, such harsh, dark words that don’t belong against your soft, pure lips—he thinks he might have just tainted them. almost like you know his thoughts, you prove you don’t care when you peck his mouth lightly. “i killed them and set the other children free.”

“you were just a kid,” you breathe, “a baby.”

“a teenager,” he huffs a laugh hoarsely, “maybe not that young.”

“a baby to me,” you say firmly, “no one that young should be pushed to such extreme methods.”

“you’re oddly calm about sharing a bed with a murderer. was the sex that good?”

you roll over, laying on top of him, pulling a soft oof from his lips—you know it’s exaggerated. he’s strong and broad under you, capable of taking your weight and then some as his hands find your waist to keep you in place, eyes boring into yours. so bare and so easy for you to look into, to read, to see so plainly for all he is. 

he doesn’t even blink—as if he’s offering himself to you, trusting you to see as much as you want, see as much of him as he can show you. 

“is that all you see yourself as? a murderer?” you ask seriously.

“of course not,” he denies, breathing softly into your hands as they cradle his face, “but it’s the part of me that matters most. that defines me the most. whether i want it to or not.”

“not to me,” you shake your head, “and not to you either, i can tell.”

“i know why i did it,” he tells you, staring at you so intensely, you feel like maybe he’s seeing you more than you’re seeing him, “i did it for my siblings. because i knew it was the only way to get them out. no one else would do a thing. but when you strip my title as duke from me, whether you put me in the underworld or put me in the overworld, i am a murderer. that won’t change.”

“and?” you raise a brow, “do you regret it? what you did?”

“never,” he says instantly. he means it. “but i’m aware of what i am to others. what they see me as. i’m not naive enough to believe my past will go away.”

“and it shouldn’t,” you shake your head, “i don’t think it should. i don’t think murder is what matters most about you—i think a child raised like livestock, betrayed, and taken advantage of, matters most. a boy who willingly gave up his freedom so his siblings would have theirs is what matters most. a man who served his time and chose to stay so he could make things better for everyone who followed is what matters. death was a kind fate for your parents, wriothesley—i for one, believe there were more fitting fates for them. far crueler ones than a peaceful demise.”

he chuckles at that last part, staring at you in wonder, in slight amusement, in so much awe that you almost feel shy.

“now i’m really questioning if the sex was that good—you’re really rationalizing my crimes, aren’t you?”

“oh, you’re such an asshole, do you know that?” you huff, “i think that’s what defines you best. a complete, utter, shameless assho—oh.”

he kisses you—abruptly so. his lips are pressed hard and firm against you, kissing with so much conviction, so much need, you’d think that you were disintegrating in his arms, that this was his last opportunity to kiss you and commit how you feel to memory. 

“you sure it’s not my stamina?” he wiggles his brows, “how about my—”

“i’ll see to it that this is the last time we ever engage in such activities if that’s all you can focus on—”

“okay, okay,” he laughs, pouting as he pulls you down to lay on him, your head tucking under his chin as he kisses the crown of your head, “enough sex jokes. i promise.”

“so crass,” you scold, “have some decorum, will you?”

“my apologies, milady,” he sighs regretfully, voice exaggerated and theatrical as he adds, “i won’t allow myself to forget my manners again. from here on out, i’ll make sure to discuss more…gentlemanly topics for your liking.”

“you’re a real handful,” you sigh, “poor sigewinne. such a sweet little angel to put up with the likes of you.”

“you met her?” he smiles fondly at the mention of her.

“briefly, yes,” you nod, “the poor thing must be tired of your antics.”

“i’m on my best behavior around her!” he insists, “you can ask her.”

“i don’t think she’ll vouch for you, you know.”

“yeah, you’re probably right,” he withers in defeat.

you giggle, kissing his collarbone softly before nuzzling against him as he relaxes. it’s comfortably silent, just your body against his, warmth seeping between the space that hardly separates your bodies, spreading across your skin. you share your heat, and he shares his. it lulls you, slowly but surely, and you can feel it lull him, too as his breath slowly evens out under you. 

sleep is just a breath away from clutching you when you mumble, “wriothesley?”

“hmm?” comes his sleepy hum.

“thank you,” you whisper, yawning, “for trusting me. enough to tell me.”

“go to sleep,” he grunts tiredly, “you can be sappy and sentimental in the morning.”

“okay,” you grin tiredly, pressing closer into him, “i’ll hold you to it.”

sleep comes quickly after that—so easy, so natural in his arms, you wonder how you’ve rested all these years without him. 

——————————

your routine to meet with wriothesley ebbs and flows between the surface and the fortress. sometimes, he stops by just like before, and sometimes, he sends for guards to fetch you when he’s too busy to make an appearance himself. your meetings more or less end the same—catching your breath together, bare bodies huddled together in a tired mess as you share quiet, whispered words into each other’s skin. it’s a routine that both of you are too used to by now, that even a short gap of not seeing each other makes the both of you impatient for the next time you’ll get to see each other. 

on days you can’t afford to see each other, your days at the shop drag by slower when all you can do is think about him. sometimes, the guards will be relieved to come to escort you, woefully expressing the awful mood the duke has been in, shuddering as they recall how unpleasant he is to be around when he’s unhappy. they seem to insist your visits are what help end his supposed awful temperament—your instinct is always to flush and insist they must be mistaken.

but it’s an intimate sort of development—the way the two of you slowly learn to depend on each other for comfort. you on long days at the shop, him after tiresome affairs with the fortress. every delicate touch and every saccharine word you exchange slowly peels away the harsh layers of the week, leaving you raw and bare to each other. 

it’s nice. something you’ve grown a bit dependent on, in fact. a part of you would like to be scared, but wriothesley doesn’t let you fear anything—it’s just the kind of guy he is. everything about him feels too safe for you to consider being scared. 

you miss him terribly, too. you haven’t gotten a chance to see him in over a week—it’s the first week of spring, the blooming season for a number of flowers. you have shipments from across the continent—cecilias from mondstadt, silk jades from liyue, sakura blossoms from inazuma, and padisarahs from sumeru. there are plenty more—too many for you to list off the top of your head, but those are the ones you’re sure will sell out the quickest. 

there’s a certain man who stops by every day, a mop of ginger on his head and an interesting aura about him as he asks you if you’ve received kalpalata lotuses yet—they’re for my sister, he tells you, i bring them home for her every time i visit sumeru. but i won’t have a chance for quite a while.

you learn he’s a harbinger, the eleventh in rank, and hardly one to step foot in his homeland for too long at a time. but he’s due back, he tells you, for a project that won’t allow him to leave for quite some time. mingling with a fatui operative is hardly on your list of possibilities for the week, but you realize even a harbinger can appreciate the beauty of flowers. so you promise him your batch's biggest blooms as soon as they are delivered. 

and he’s patient, coming every day in hopes that they’ve been delivered, helping you organize the deliveries you do get, going as far as to join you to loch urania amidst a terrible storm to assist in picking lakelight lilies when you’re low. you appreciate the small companionship you’ve formed with him—childe, as he’s called, he tells you. a code name for his place as a harbinger that you relish in being given the knowledge of.  

the day finally comes when the lotuses are delivered, and for all his help and kindness, you try to repay him with a free bouquet. 

he declines persistently. “no, no miss,” he chuckles, waving his hands in dismissal as you offer the beautifully bundled flowers, “i couldn’t possibly accept them free of charge.”

“oh, don’t be silly,” you huff, “you’ve done plenty for me. an extra set of hands in the shop is as rare as glaze lilies blooming in midwinter!”

“i was happy to help,” he chirps, “i had a good time occupying myself as i waited to depart fontaine.”

“and archons know when the next time you’ll return is,” you sigh, “which is why you should accept these as a parting gift.”

“a parting gift, huh?” your eyes widen at the familiar voice—wriothesley. it’s been almost two weeks since you’ve heard it, and you beam as you look over at his approaching figure.

“wriothesley!” you hum, “what are you doing here?”

“thought i’d come to pay a visit,” he says gruffly, eyeing childe, who grins tightly at the warden. “i wasn’t banking on seeing an ex-inmate, though. what a shocking surprise.”

“the fortress’s duke in broad daylight,” childe coos, “what a fascinating sight.”

it’s tense—you can feel the atmosphere shift all too quickly as the two men stare each other down. 

“i didn’t know childe was a prisoner at the fortress,” you murmur, making the warden scoff as he glares at the harbinger.

“well,” childe shrugs, eyes sharp as they gaze at wriothesley, “i like to consider myself wrongly sentenced. justice isn’t always fair in the courts of fontaine, it seems.”

“ah, is that why you escaped from your sentence early?”

“i believe my escape proved to be quite helpful in saving the people of this nation in the end, didn’t it?” he asks, voice low, almost predatory, as wriothesley grits his jaw, glancing back at you before crossing his arms. 

“is the fatui boy giving you trouble?” he asks, making you shake your head frantically as the harbinger lets out a dry chuckle from the side. 

“oh, no!” you insist, “no, childe has been quite helpful, i promise. he’s given quite a hand, in fact!”

“is that so?” wriothesley perches a brow, tongue poking his cheek as he glares to the side at the smug ginger. 

“oh, absolutely,” childe nods, “you see, i’ve been offering the lovely lady my assistance as i waited on my delivery. we even visited loch urania together to pick lakelight lilies for a bouquet she needed to deliver.”

“he treated me to lunch,” you beam innocently. you might have missed the way wriothesley’s jaw tightens, but childe certainly doesn’t, making his grin spread even wider. “he’s nice, wriothesley, i promise. i hope you both can sort out whatever differences you had during his previous sentence.”

“perhaps next time, you could join us for lunch,” childe drawls, “it’ll be on me.”

“a kind offer,” the duke chuckles dryly, a rueful grin on his tight lips as he adds, “but i’ll have to decline.”

“please, i really insist you take these lotuses,” you hold the bouquet out to the harbinger, and much to wriothesley’s dismay, there’s an evident amount of extra care put into the floral packaging. your careful handwriting in soft, looped letters spelling out his name across the paper, with a heart beside it as though you took time to thoughtfully scribble each letter just for him. “give your sister my best regards.”

“you know his sister?” wriothesley grits.

“oh no,” you chuckle, “but he tells me of her. the flowers are for her!”

“like i said,” childe hums, taking out a heavy pouch of mora and placing it on your counter—both yours and wriothesley’s eyes widen at the sheer amount of mora you’re sure is inside. it’s undoubtedly far more than a small, simple bouquet would cost, but he waves it off like it’s nothing as he says, “i insist on giving you the payment you deserve. you’ve certainly made my last few days here at fontaine interesting. it’s made up for the less than…welcoming treatment from the beginning of my trip.”

wriothesley’s eye all but twitches. 

“that’s far too much to accept for a small bunch of kalpalata lotuses, you can’t—”

“consider it a payment in advance for the next time i return to fontaine,” he winks, “i’ll be sure to visit for more of your lovely flowers. i’m sure my mother will appreciate a bouquet too.”

with that, he waves at you, walking off with a grin as you sigh and shake your head fondly, waving him off as you call, “you’re quite the handful, you know. do visit again next time you’re here!”

“oh, i wouldn’t miss the opportunity for anything.”

wriothesley scoffs at the final exchange of words, watching the retreating figure of the harbinger with hardened, distant eyes while you exhale softly and grab the pouch of mora. 

“are all harbingers this loaded with mora, do you think?”

“who knows,” he mutters, looking away as he swallows before adding, “i came to visit on my way back to the fortress. i had business with neuvillette.”

“oh,” you hum, smiling as you ask, “is he doing well?”

“fine,” is all wriothesley says.

“that’s good,” you nod, “we haven’t been able to see each other in quite a bit, huh? i’d have visited, but the deliveries all week have kept me busy.”

“good thing you had the harbinger to lend a hand, huh?” he remarks, raising a brow.

“well, yeah, i suppose so,” you frown slightly, watching as he takes a slow, deep breath before fixing his tie. “is everything okay?”

“yeah,” he says instantly. “may i walk you home?”

“of course,” you smile—it doesn’t reach your eyes, and he wishes he could find it in himself to do something to reassure the lingering worry in your irises, but he doesn’t. instead, he quietly waits for you to close the shop, so uncharacteristically silent that you can practically feel the tension in the air tangibly.

the walk to your home is just as silent. wriothesley doesn’t say anything, and you don’t have the confidence to break the silence yourself. you’ve never seen him like this, so bothered and visibly so. you’re not entirely sure what brought it on, either—but you are sure it has something to do with childe. 

you finally reach your home after a long walk, quietly standing in front of the door as you turn to him and inspect his face. hard-lined lips, distant eyes, and crossed arms. he doesn’t look like the usual wriothesley you know—the one who grins and gives you a slight bow as he says, we’ve arrived at your lovely home, milady. 

“thank you for walking me,” you murmur, looking at him carefully as he nods.

“sure,” he responds flatly, “my pleasure.”

“you didn’t have to trouble yourself if you were tired from your meeting,” you add.

“not tired,” he shakes his head. “it was no trouble to me.”

“are you sure?” you raise a brow, sighing as you cross your own arms, “you don’t seem too happy to be here.”

“what do you mean?” he shrugs lamely, avoiding your question, your gaze. you know that one look into your eyes is all it takes to make him spill, and normally, you don’t take advantage of that, but you think tonight you will. 

because you’re tired of dancing around half-truths and coded words you have to decipher. you want one straight, laid-bare conversation with him. so you reach over and tilt his jaw, making him inhale sharply at your touch as you force him to face you and look at you. 

“what is up with you? and don’t even think about saying nothing.”

“nothing is up with me,” he mumbles stubbornly.

“wriothesley,” you warn, looking at him unimpressed, “i was not born yesterday.”

“my apologies,” he says sarcastically, a rueful smile curling on those chapped lips of his, “i suppose i’m just a bit shocked i’m not the only customer you offer your affections to. i suppose that was silly of me—it must be good for business.”

“excuse me?” you recoil, staring at him in disbelief. a little hurt, too—he regrets the words as soon as they leave his mouth, flinching slightly at the implications. “how dare you insinuate i’m a common whore?” 

“that’s not what i was trying to say at all,” he groans, pinching the bridge of his nose, “it came out wrong.”

“then what were you trying to say?” you demand, looking at him expectantly, hands on your hips and a raise of your brows that almost mockingly tells him, i’d love to see you work your way out of this one. 

“you never told me you and the fatui boy were so close.” 

if there’s one thing wriothesley is good at, it’s shifting things to focus on other people. so he can observe. watch closely. take note of all the little things so he can figure out what he wants to know without asking at all. all without having anything told to him right out. it’s how he works—and you won’t entertain it. 

“the fatui boy has a name,” you point out.

“his name is not actually childe,” he snorts—there’s no real amusement in the action, just as sarcastic and sardonic as everything prior. “is that what you believe?”

“if you’re not going to say the problem with your words like an adult, i’m going to go inside,” you spit, “we’re both wasting time here if we’re just going to talk in circles.”

“yes, because i’m the one who’s not admitting things,” he chuckles dryly. 

you glare at him—because enough is enough, and you’re sick of taking one step forward just to stumble ten steps back. with one swift move, your hand grips his wrist firmly and yanks, pulling him to stumble into your home as the door slams behind him. you’re tired of having bystanders walk past you and listen to your pointless discussion, and you’re tired of getting nowhere the longer you stand outside. it feels like the more you talk, the less you know. every word he says confuses you more and more.

and that’s the thing about him—he never tells you things, not since that night he first opened up. you thought you broke some newfound trust, a new ground to walk on with him that leads somewhere further than just two people who seek each other out for pleasure. you feel something for him—and you thought he did too, but it’s always something vague or another with him and you’re tired of it. tired of wondering where you stand, what he wants, how he feels. you want to know, and tonight, even if it kills you, you’ll find out.

“what is it you want me to admit wriothesley? huh?” you scowl, “tell me so i can tell you what you need to know so you’ll finally answer my question. i’m tired of the back-and-forth game with you.”

“you don’t need to admit anything to me,” he shrugs, “it’s not my business.”

“you don’t even believe that yourself,” you scoff, “even i can tell that much. is this about childe? you don’t like me mingling with the fatui? he’s just friendly, that’s all. and good business.”

“right,” he nods slowly, disbelievingly. you almost see red—how dare he hint that you’re a liar. 

“what do you think i’m doing then?” you challenge, “let’s hear it. fraternizing with the fatui? is that the accusation you’ll pull out?”

“well, if he’s helping you pick flowers and buying you lunch, then you certainly can’t be strangers,” he smiles tightly, “perhaps next time he can join us in our canoodling too if you’d like.”

“so that’s what it is?” you shake your head exasperatedly, “you’re moody because you’re jealous?”

“i’m not jealous,” he narrows his eyes, “i have no reason to be.”

“i’d believe you sooner if you’d said the underwater beast really was the cause of your scars,” you scoff, pursing your lips. “why is it so hard for you to just speak your mind?”

“then let’s start with you,” he retorts, hands throwing up in the air as he takes a step closer and glares daggers at you, “why are you dancing around what your relationship with the harbinger is?”

“there is nothing between me and the harbinger! nothing at all, and i don’t appreciate you assuming things about me. i’ve only been intimate with you!”

“you don’t need to hide it,” he smiles bitterly. finally, as if the conversation has chipped away at his resolve enough that bits and pieces of his inner turmoil can show, you can see the lingering hurt in his gaze. the betrayal. the doubt and fear—all of it pools in his eyes, swimming in the many, many flecks of his eyes as you stare into them. “it’s not as though we’ve committed to anything here.”

“i’m not hiding anything,” you say firmly, “you don’t have to be jealous.”

“i’m not jealous,” he shakes his head. it feels like he’s convincing himself more than you. because more than you, admitting to himself he cares is hard. all of this is hard—you know that. the last time he dared to trust someone, to love someone, he’d lost more than he could fathom. more than he was ever ready to lose.

so you sigh, dropping your shoulders as you let the anger dissipate.

“i wouldn’t blame you if you were jealous,” you say softly, extending the olive branch with a slow, hesitant hand to his cheek. he stiffens, but he doesn’t pull away, “it would kill me, too, to think you were close to another woman. but the harbinger is a customer i’ve become friendly with and nothing more. don’t you believe me?”

he closes his eyes, letting out a shaky breath as he hesitantly leans into your palm, letting your thumb brush soothing strokes along the scar under his eye.

“i was jealous,” he admits, quiet. hoarse. strained. it takes every ounce of him to admit as much to you—the progress makes you smile softly. “i…i was so jealous i couldn’t think straight. and i took it out on you. i’m sorry.”

“maybe it’s time we had a discussion,” you say softly, “about…well, us. what it is we’re doing. it’s long overdue.”

“i’ve been avoiding it,” he confesses. 

“i know,” you murmur, smiling tightly, “i know you have. that’s why i didn’t bring it up. but we can’t dance around it forever.”

“i’m no good at this,” he opens his eyes, defeated and so lost, you can’t help but lean in and press a soft kiss to his jaw.

“you’re not so bad,” you hum, “give yourself a little more credit.”

“no,” he shakes his head, “you don’t understand. i’ve never been good at this…at trusting people and getting close to them. i don’t even have real friends—i see clorinde and neuvillette every few months, and briefly at that. one of them was the judge at my trial, and the other knows as much about me as the files say. i don’t like talking about my feelings, and i hate sharing things about myself. i’m not jealous of childe because he threatens me—even i know you’d never give a fatui member a chance. but i’m no good for a stroll in the park, or picking flowers, or lunch at a cafe. i live underwater in a large prison that i run, and i rarely come up—at least, not often enough to be a healthy, functioning member of society, that is.”

“so what?” you frown, “i don’t care. nothing is easy at first—isn’t that why we try? who says you have to share all your feelings immediately? we can work up to that slowly. this was sharing, wasn’t it? what you just did? that’s a step in the right direction.”

“and look how much we had to battle for that little bit,” he lets out a sharp, self-deprecating laugh that makes your heart ache, “you’ll grow tired of me.”

“you don’t get to decide that,” you shake your head stubbornly, “i would never grow tired of you. never you.”

“i might be a duke now, but i was a murderer in the past,” he adds, a low and cheap attempt to convince you he’s not worth it. you roll your eyes at the statement.

“i’m aware,” you say blandly, “i don’t care, wriothesley. i don’t. those are all excuses—if you want this, if you really want this like i do, because you care about me just like i care about you and you feel the same way, then you’d realize these are all petty excuses your head is coming up with. i’ll wait for you to be better at communicating if you promise you’ll try. and your past is just a small stain on the cloth that we can ignore.”

“it’s murder,” he says in disbelief.

“i said what i said,” you huff. he blinks once, then twice before letting out a breathy chuckle.

“you’re insane.”

“thank you,” you nod, grinning, “and you being at the fortress is just a small obstacle. we’ll make it work, you and me.”

“how?” he asks, voice small and unsure.

“you act like it’s impossible, you silly thing. i’ll come see you, and you’ll come see me, and we can spend nights together wherever is most convenient for the time. why are you overthinking it?” you ask like it’s obvious. maybe it is—maybe his brain just doesn’t let him see how simple of a solution it really is.

“the fortress is no place for someone who’s used to the surface—”

“enough excuses,” you scold firmly, “i won’t have any of it.”

“you don’t know what you’re getting into,” he shakes his head—you cup his cheeks, pulling his face close as you press soft, delicate kisses along his skin. like he’s fragile. like he needs to be handled with care. 

no one has ever handled wriothesley with care. even as a child when he was defenseless. when his parents saw a commodity to raise and sell like livestock instead of a child to love and cherish. when the streets saw a rat with dirty clothes and nimble fingers only good for theft. when he woke up in a hospital bed with cuffs to his hands, wrists shackled, and a caseworker sat a comfortable distance away, even without his gauntlets. when they saw him as nothing more than a murderer on trial as opposed to a child with no other way out. when the world showed him no mercy and left him to fend for himself in a dark, ruthless corner of the nation under the sea with no sun, no grass, no fresh air, and no hope.

no one has thought to treat wriothesley with gentleness, with kindness, with grace—as if he mattered. not until he made himself matter, taking what he wanted through a pen, paper, and meaningless title. 

no one until you. 

“i know exactly what i’m getting into,” you whisper, “you know what i see? when i look at you?”

“what? big muscles?” he teases, voice weak. a last, feeble attempt at keeping himself guarded. it’s useless, and he knows it as well as you do. he’s already far more vulnerable than he’s comfortable with. 

“a good man,” you say firmly, “a good man who is worth the effort. one who has a good heart and no one to share it with. someone who knows when change needs to happen and makes it happen. someone who knows a thing or two about second chances. who shows people mercy if they’re willing to be better—because that’s all he wants. for things to be better.”

“you’re giving me a lot more credit than i deserve, sweetheart,” he says shakily, trying to give you his usual smirk. his lips wobble, much to his dismay—you kiss them to help him hide the tremor like the angel you are. 

he’s not sure why the archons, celestia, or whoever is in charge of fate would send him such a perfect, pure angel in his arms. but they did. he’s certainly not one to miscount his blessings—they’ve been few and far between as is. 

“no,” you murmur, whispering between kisses, “i’m not. i’m giving you as much credit as you deserve. because no one has ever told you these things about you, and it’s time someone did.”

“doing the dirty work, huh?”

“i wish you’d stop with that,” you smile at him sadly, “i wish you would treat yourself with the same kindness you treat everyone else with. that you treat me with.”

“you’re an angel,” he murmurs, pecking your cheek, “that’s the difference.”

“you can’t be that bad if that’s the case,” you grin cheekily, “what kind of angel picks such an awful guy?”

“one who thinks the fatui harbingers make good friends,” he snorts, “one who’s a little on the naive side.”

“i like to think of it as seeing good in people,” you wink. 

he laughs, arms wrapping around you, pulling you flush against his chest as he kisses you. and kisses you. and kisses you—and kisses you some more until you’re forced to pull away and breathe. even then, he’s not satisfied, lips finding the sensitive skin along your collarbones, traveling up along your neck and finding your jaw, peppering soft presses of his lips until they hover over your mouth again.

“you good?” he asks smugly, “need a minute to catch your breath?”

“you’re such a pain,” you huff, pressing against his mouth and closing the gap as he hums against you. 

“what were you just saying about me just a few moments ago? something about a good man?”

“come here,” you sigh exasperatedly—and then you’re tugging him into your bedroom, stumbling and giggling as you both impatiently find the bed. you fall back, the mattress catching you along with him as he hovers over you and doesn’t waste a moment to nip at your neck.

“next time you need help with flowers in a dangerous, stormy place, you ask me,” he says lowly, breath fanning over your skin and making you shiver, “you don’t need the fatui boy.”

“okay,” you laugh, breathless as your eyes flutter shut when he nibbles on the sensitive spot over your pulse point, “you might have to temporarily drop your duties as a duke for that, though.”

“consider it done.” his hands tug your blouse over your head, doing quick work to toss it somewhere on the floor as he grins at the lacey red bra you have on underneath. “this is new,” he comments, “i like this.”

“of course you do,” you grin in amusement, “so predictable.”

“hey,” he pouts, “i’m an easy guy to please. just need you, maybe a few accessories…i don’t ask for much.”

“well,” you look at him in anticipation, “are you going to stare all day? or are you going to take it off?”

his eyes darken—hazed with lust and desperation as he quickly works the bra off of you and tosses it off to the side, too, but not before he stares at the label quickly. “chioriya boutique,” he reads, nodding, “remind me to give her my thanks. and business, too, in the future.”

“shameless,” you scoff, shaking your head.

“grateful,” he corrects, grinning cheekily at you. you don’t even get a chance to retort before his lips are around your nipple, teeth lightly grazing the pebbled nub as he sucks, making you gasp as your hands find his head, cupping the back of it as your own head throws back against the pillows. 

“wri—”

“you know what i see when i see you?” he hums, pulling away from one nipple and latching onto the other, tongue rolling over it slowly as his thumb finds the other, not to leave it neglected, “i see the woman i would defy the gods themselves to possess. who i would commit far worse crimes for, and serve time all over again for. one who commands my every thought. do you know how many times i’ve neglected my duties just thinking about you alone? when i see you, i see the one thing that’s finally mine—mine alone.”

you whimper as his lips reattach themselves to your breast, sucking and grazing his tongue around one nipple and pinching and toying with the other with his hand. your hands tug at his hair, pulling a soft groan from his throat as he pulls away and stares at you. you’re a panting, heaving mess already—he grins in satisfaction.

“pretty,”  he hums, nuzzling his nose against your throat, right where your pulse is erratic, “so, so pretty.”

“all this flattery, and you’ve yet to do something,” you rasp, just to rile him up as he lets out a deep, gruff sound of disapproval, eyeing you with a raised brow.

“oh, you want me to do something, is that it? i thought we’d take our time,” he grazes his finger along your waist, tracing the edge of your skirt before looping his finger under it, tugging slowly, “but if you insist, i guess we can pick up the pace.”

he pulls the skirt down your legs, eyes widening as he takes in the matching red laced panties from the bra earlier—you grin cheekily as he does. “like this one too?”

“oh,” he chuckles, breathless, “sweetheart, you have no idea.” wriothesley is a giver—you’re reminded of this fact as soon as his head buries between your thighs enthusiastically, kissing your clit through the lace as your breath hitches. “did you pick this little set up just for me?”

“don’t be silly,” you tease, “i obviously got this for myself. consider yourself a lucky witness.”

“and a lucky witness i am indeed,” he nods, humming as he slowly, carefully inches the lace down your legs, admiring the way it contrasts against your sweet, supple skin. “i owe chioriya boutique my life. i’ll even give my thanks to madame chiori myself.”

“please do not,” you say in horror, making him chuckle, “that would be utterly undignified.”

he’s not even listening, you realize. his lips attach to your clit as soon as the fabric is discarded somewhere to the side like the rest, a soft groan rumbling from his chest as soon as he tastes you, spreading your legs for better access as he glides his tongue to your folds, pressing between your folds and looking up to watch as your head throws back with a soft gasp. 

“wriothesley,” you gasp, pulling his hair in a tight grip to ground yourself.

you’re the most gentle with him when you handle him—but you’re also the roughest. the way you grasp him so harshly, mercilessly in your grip, makes his eyes flutter shut in a sick, twisted sort of masochism. he loves the pain, the dull throb in his skull from your pleasure. 

“yeah, i’m right here, sweetheart,” he chuckles lowly, “feels good?”

“yes,” you whine, “s’good—so good.”

“i know,” he hums, pressing soft kisses to your clit, along your inner thigh, until he’s back to your folds, hovering over them as he whispers, “i can tell just from the way you’re dripping. isn’t that cute?”

you whine in embarrassment, closing your legs around him as he grins against your cunt, grinding down on his mouth until he’s back to devouring you, tongue slipping deep into you as far as he can, exploring your tight, wet hole with fervor. 

“close,” you whisper, voice bordering on broken, “i’m s-so close—oh, wriothesley!”

you come undone on his tongue with one more roll of his tongue over your clit, shaking as he sloppily eats you out through your high until your whole body is a shaking, quivering mess along with your walls. 

“got anything else from that boutique you want to show me?” he murmurs, moving back up to hover over you, burying his face into your neck as your arms snake around his shoulders, rubbing into his back.

“maybe,” you say vaguely, grinning, “it’s a secret. maybe if you behave, you’ll find out.”

“yeah?” he chuckles, “consider me on my best behavior, milady.”

“then take this off,” you tug at his shirt, pouting as you add, “not fair that i’m the only one undressed.”

“as you wish,” he agrees. you watch as he strips—it’s not embarrassing like the first time or two when you looked away with a hot face and ears. now it’s intimate, watching him bear his soul to you, with every scar and imperfection, every flaw and tainted part.

his cock is hard, standing between his legs as it throbs, a bead of pre cum coating the tip. your arms wrap around his neck, pulling him close again as you feel his hardened length poke at your thigh, making you press against it and pull a groan out of him.

“i want you,” you whisper, “i’ve never wanted anyone else. not like this. not like you. i don’t think i ever will.”

“you can’t have met too many people then,” he teases.

“oh, i meet plenty of people. romantic ones at that—flowers are a love language, you know.”

“and you still want me? they must all be taken.”

“they’re not you,” you correct, pulling him into a sweet, slow kiss, taking your time to mold your lips against him and feel him against you, “nothing close to you. no one comes close.”

the bees should come to your lips for nectar, he thinks. flowers bloom from your mouth, delicate and sweet petals that light up his world and color him every shade of love. 

“in that case,” he whispers, pulling away from your mouth to press a soft kiss to your nose, “i’m the luckiest man in fontaine. maybe teyvat.”

“i would agree,” you wink cheekily, “aren’t i such a lucky catch?”

“oh absolutely,” he laughs, amused, fond, so deeply enamored. then his lips are back on yours, and his hips are angled so that his cock teases your folds, grazing the entrance of your cunt as he coats his tip with your dripping slick. 

you both shudder at the feeling, gasping against each other’s mouths as you exchange hot, labored breaths. 

“i want you,” you repeat, “please.”

“you have me,” he whispers, letting out a soft moan as he pushes the tip past your entrance, “as long as you want.”

“that’ll be forever,” you say breathlessly, “think you can handle that long?”

“i’m sure i’ll manage.”

finally, he pushes all the way through, buried to the hilt and stretching you apart until he splits you open on his cock. he presses so deep into you, you can feel him nudge against that sweet, spongy spot without even trying. it’s like he was made for you—like the laws of this land declared him yours from birth and made him fit you in every way possible. the slot of his fingers with yours, the mold of his lips against you, the press of his cock into your cunt. all of it fits you so well, you wonder if you’ve lived your life just to find wriothesley. 

you both moan into each other’s mouths, strangled sounds that you swallow from each other’s mouths as your lips sloppily press into each other. 

“wr-wrio—fuck,” you stammer, nails raking along his back as he rolls his hips, slamming into your deepest, most rawest parts.

“yeah, baby,” he pants, kissing the corner of your mouth, “m’right here, sweetheart.”

you sob when a rough, callused thumb finds your clit, rubbing circles into the bundle of nerves perfectly in tune with the harsh thrusts that fill you so deep. deep—he’s so far into you, you wonder if you can feel him in your throat, in your lungs, and in your heart, knocking the air out of you as you breathlessly try to call his name. 

“faster,” you plead, clinging to him, “more—please, need more.”

“think you can take it?” he chuckles, cutting himself off with a strangled grunt when you squeeze around him particularly tightly, “i think you’re falling apart as is.”

“more,” you whine, back arching as your hips desperately buck up to meet his in tandem, trying to feel him closer, deeper, harder. 

“if that’s what you want,” he hums—you want to scoff at him, but you’re too delirious. you’d tease him for acting like he doesn’t want the same, like the ache of his cock doesn’t crave more friction, doesn’t want to slam into you with little to no self-control outside of chasing his pleasure. you feel so good around him—so good, his head falls to your shoulder as he pants harshly into your ear, murmuring stammered praises. “s-so good, sweetheart. you always take me so good, like the pretty thing you are. how in teyvat did i score the affections of fontaine’s most radiant lady? o-only the gods could know.”

“why don’t you ask them,” you breathe, head pressing against the pillow as your back arches and your toes curl when he slams his swollen tip against your sweet spot once more, hips rolling in perfect precision, “ask them how you got so blessed.”

“maybe i’ll ask the divinity right before me,” he hums smoothly, chuckling when you mewl as his thumb rubs faster into your clit, “how did i get so lucky?”

“because i need you,” you whine, “n-need you—only you.”

“what a sweet answer,” he groans, pumping his cock into you faster, feeling the familiar twitch indicating he’s close—and you are too. he can tell from the erratic squeeze of your walls. “always spoiling me, right sweetheart?”

“wriothesley,” you cry, “i-i’m close. m’so close, please. please.”

“no need to say please, baby,” he grunts, “you can have whatever you want. when you want it, yeah?”

and just like that, you break—his thumb is still rubbing those harsh circles into you swollen clit as you cum, clenching down on him through your high as your mouth parts and your head presses deeper into the pillow. he’s fucking into you, still slamming his hips into you as mercilessly as before, riding you through your orgasm as you chant his name. 

“wri—wriothesley,” you sob.

“yeah, sweetheart? what is it?” he teases—it doesn’t last long, though. his bravado falls apart as soon as the first twitch of his cock indicates his own orgasm. you feel the hot, sticky, endless ropes of cum fill you up, coating your walls as he stiffens over you and shudders, groaning lowly as he empties himself into your sweet cunt. “f-fuck, you feel so good—you’re the only one. the. only. one.”

his hips thrust into you to punctuate the words, cock pushing his release deeper into you, messy and leaking down your thighs and forming a ring at the base of his length. it’s so filthy you almost think it’s a sin. but how could it be when it feels so right, so good?

finally, he slumps over your body, spent and panting as he finishes. you catch your breath under him, labored breath one after the other as your sweaty skin clings against his own.

“you’re beautiful,” he murmurs after some time, kissing the damp skin of your neck.

“i know,” you whisper cheekily, making him chuckle as he rolls over, pulling you into his chest.

“so humble,” he snorts.

“of course,” you beam, “but feel free to leave more compliments.”

“oh don’t worry, i won’t run out any time soon.”

it’s quiet for a bit, apart from your giggles and his low chuckles. soft, peaceful, and so painfully comforting, you wonder if heaven itself wishes for a place beside wriothesley. 

“when you first came up to the surface after your sentence,” you mumble after a few moments of quietness, tracing small loops into his chest as he silently hums for you to continue, “what was the first thing you did?”

“i got a croissant,” he answers thoughtfully, thumb rubbing circles into your hip where his hand is comfortably rested.

you blink, tilting your head to look up at him. his lips curve into a knowing grin.

“pardon?”

he laughs—it’s a beautiful thing. like a boy, eyes crinkled and lips freely curved so wide, you’d think his cheeks were endless with the way they expand to accommodate for such a large stretch. it’s the one time he doesn’t seem like the rugged man you usually know. something younger, more innocent, more raw comes out when wriothesley laughs.

“they go well with tea,” he shrugs, looking down at you, quickly stealing a peck of your nose, “and…” his voice is softer as he trails off, smile faltering.

“and?” you press delicately. so delicately, you’d think you were speaking to a house of cards, one word that’s breathed too harshly away from toppling over.

“and i wanted to visit a bakery i went to as a kid,” he murmurs quietly, voice dropping to a whisper as if he’s admitting something he’s never told anyone. something tells you he just might be. “there was an old lady who used to feed me sometimes when i was a kid on the streets. after i ran away. she’d give me a chocolate croissant and warm tea. i thought…i thought maybe there was a chance she’d still …”

he swallows, cutting his words off just before his voice has the chance to break. it’s a measured gesture. you know it is because you know him. just like you know the feelings of petals and thorns with your eyes closed, you know wriothesley. just like you can tell flowers apart from scent alone, you have him memorized. just like you know what every petal and its origin means, you understand him like it’s your job, too.

except you get paid to do this with something better than mora. with open-mouthed kisses and lingering touches. with coffee in a mug to complement the tea next to it. with strong arms to shield you when rain pours hard over your unsuspecting heads. with a gentle voice that learns to whisper back the language you speak better than anything else.

it says you’re the one i need the most, like rainbow roses. i miss you so much, i ache for you, like mourning flowers. i’d shed blood for you to live, like dendrobiums. you’re what i desire more than anything else, like romaritimes. each word is carefully formed, fragile as it hangs from a singular point. like petals on a stem, his words blossom from the tip of his tongue, falling one by one to your awaiting hands as your thumb traces his lips.

they all tell you one thing—whether he says the words out loud or not, he tells you he loves you through the things he does say. every little promise, every compliment, every form of praise. they say one thing—i love you.

you have always felt loved around wriothesley. you know he loves you, even if you question it sometimes, even if you ache to hear it, you’re always reminded he does when those eyes soften as they look at you, training on you like they never want to look away.

he loves you. he loves you not. he loves you. he loves you not. he loves you.

he loves you.

he loves you.

he loves you.

it always ends with he loves you.

“was she?” you whisper, finger tracing up his chest, along his neck and jaw until it cups his cheek tenderly. he shivers at the touch. “was she still there?”

gentleness isn’t something wriothesley is very familiar with. it raids his skin, takes over the territory that’s only known harshness, and conquers the scarred patches that are barren and empty from all the pain and desolation.

“no,” his voice is barely audible. “her son owns it now. the croissants still taste the same, though.”

“some things never change, i suppose,” you smile softly, leaning closer as your nose presses against his, “even when everything else does. it’s not so bad if you hold onto what you can.”

“and what if you have nothing?” he challenges, closing his eyes when you kiss his jaw sweetly and slowly inhaling a soft breath.

“i’m sure that’s never true,” you murmur, “there’s always something.”

“yeah? how optimistic of you,” he chuckles.

“i’m serious,” you pout, “there’s always a way to make do. look at cacti. they go ages without water, don’t they? and did you know naku weeds can survive being struck by lightning?”

“do you just compare everything to plants?” he asks in amusement, eyeing you with a charmed glint.

“of course,” you huff, “don’t you compare things to what you love most?”

he looks at you for a moment. really looks at you. grazes his eyes over your supple skin he’s traced so many times, over the small crinkles by your eyes permanently etched from smiling so often, over the curve of your nose and lips he’s pressed his own against, over the two eyes that stare back at him and see him more than they do look.

and then he nods.

“yeah,” he admits, “i do.”

your lips are as sweet as the warm chocolate that coated his lips and chin as a child. your touch is as soft as the hands of his mother when he thought he could trust her. your eyes are as bright as the sun when he first saw it after years of dark, rusted walls. everything about you reminds him of his past, the better parts and the worst. all of it.

some of it is healing, and some of it hurts so raw he thinks he’ll bleed out. but your hands are dipped in gold, he thinks. they’d make the most infertile soil rich and filled with life, letting him blossom new again right where his blood spilled.

he’s reminded of you in everything he sees. tea reminds him of your coffee with too much milk. paperwork reminds him of how distressed you are by wasted pages and killed trees. his gauntlets remind him of your hands so small in comparison. he’s doomed, he thinks. cursed, even.

cursed to always remember you in everything.

so, of course, he compares everything to what he loves most. because why else would you reside in his mind so endlessly, taking up the space from one end all the way to the other? why else would you remind him of you in even the mundane of things if he didn’t love you so deeply, so purely, so easily, that you’re everywhere all at once, even when you’re nowhere in sight?

he presses his forehead to yours, closing his eyes and inhaling sharply before letting out a slow, shaky breath.

“i lied,” he admits, making you frown.

“about?”

“about the first thing i did when i got to the surface,” he says quietly. “i went to my parents' graves.”

“to visit them?” you raise a confused eyebrow.

“no. to make sure they were really dead.”

“oh,” is all you say, staring into his eyes as he waits for you to say something more. “well, were they dead?”

“yes,” he snorts, closing his eyes and huffing out a small laugh. “very much so.”

“well, that’s a relief,” you giggle, “otherwise, you’d have served a sentence for murder for nothing.”

“good thing i didn’t, huh?”

“good thing you didn’t,” you nod, grinning as he stares at you softly.

“i’ll take you one of these days,” he hums quietly after a moment. you look surprised, eyes widening as you process the words.

“to your parents' grave?”

“to the bakery,” he rolls his eyes, letting out a breathy laugh. “i don’t think my dead mother would appreciate me bringing back a woman after i killed her.”

“oh, very funny,” you scowl, glaring at him.

“you think so?” he winks, laughing when you gently shove his face away, making his hand grab at your wrist and bite gently into the skin.

you squeal, giggling as he nibbles into your skin. “stop that, you brute!” you demand in between laughs.

it’s quiet for a moment as the laughter settles down, just you and him. him and you. silence echoing off the walls and warmth radiating between your bodies, the sheets clinging to your bare skin. you can feel his bare hip brush against yours. it’s intimate—far more intimate than either of you are used to, but not unwelcome.

he turns, pulling you into his arms and pressing your foreheads together. you think that’s his favorite position to be in—when your faces are so close, they touch. when his eyes can bore into yours. when he can feel the warmth of you tickling his skin as you breathe, as you talk, as you exist before him.

“you’ll like the croissants,” he adds quietly, thoughtfully, “the blackberry ones are particularly nice with the lemon and mint tea—”

you cut him off. before you can think. the words fly past your lips, swept with the breeze like dandelion seeds, and carried through the room as they find shelter in every little crevice. they’ll be here, in every corner, in every little place, a memento of your first real confession.

“i love you.”

he pauses as you cut him off, blinking as he stares at you. something flashes in his eyes—fear, excitement, a small bit of shock and doubt that makes your heartache. you can read him like a book.

it’s not doubt because he thinks you lie. it’s doubt because he thinks it shouldn’t be him. you know that, and you’re prepared to patiently prove him he’s wrong. little by little. day by day. one kiss at a time.

“that’s really enthusiastic,” he shoots you a teasing grin, too easy and too practiced for your liking, “if i knew you liked croissants that much—”

“no, wriothesley,” you say gently, like your words could rock the boat and topple you both into a dangerous, unforgiving current any moment. “i love you. i love when you tell me things you don’t like sharing, and i love when you show me things that are hard to revisit. i love you. because you try, and you’re good at trying. and that’s enough.”

“getting sentimental on me?” he asks hoarsely, smiling tightly.

your hand cups his cheek again, pulling him in so you can kiss the corner of his mouth as you whisper, “yes.” your lips find the other side of his mouth, still at the corner as you whisper again. “because you deserve to hear nice things. even the cheesy ones.”

his eyes close. one moment turns to two, and you let him take his time. let him swallow as he takes a shallow breath before he opens them again and looks at you.

he’s laid bare before you. in more ways than one. being nude is easier than being seen—he trusts you enough to let himself be both.

“you deserve to hear nice things, too,” he admits. it’s not the same as admitting he loves you too, but it’s as close as he can get—still difficult enough that his voice breaks. like it’s hard for him to confess something like this.

it is.

it’s hard for him to tell someone he loves them. the last time he did, he felt the sucker punch of betrayal in his guts, so young that he hardly understood what it meant to be betrayed at all. he watched the same eyes he used to think were his saviors die out as blood spilled in the living room, where his tiny feet padded across as he ran around and played. he misses them sometimes, even now.

his mother’s beautiful green eyes that greeted him in the mornings as she kissed him awake, warm and gentle on his forehead. his father’s deep blue ones that would look at him proudly as he grew and grew, clasping his shoulder with that firmly affectionate grip.

sometimes, he misses them, misses what he thought he had. other times, he’s glad he did it. sometimes, in the dead of night, when it’s just him, he mourns the old him. the one that didn’t have blood on his hands, the him that didn’t have to take two lives to set so many free. the version of him that was allowed to be a boy who existed freely, no taxes to pay for the love he so desperately wanted.

love is wicked like that—it creeps up on you, takes pieces of you, and changes you until you can hardly recognize yourself. until you can hardly recognize everyone around you. how long has it been since he’s seen his siblings? can he even still call them that? do they remember him? would he even recognize them?

he still loves them in his own way. his precious little sisters camille and lucie, and his sweet baby his brothers alexandre and nicolas—he came back and set them free just before it was their time. he didn’t want to leave them, but he had no choice. there were ones who left before him, a time that he can hardly remember anymore. a time before him and antoine. but he recalls them being so delicate with him just as older siblings should be. did they make it out of whatever fate they were sealed to? were they disposed of with no witnesses to bring their demises to justice? he doesn’t know. it’s easier not to know.

it’s easier not to love at all than to open up the risk of hurting. every person he’s ever loved has caused him pain. even the innocent siblings who did nothing wrong—all he’s ever known is pain. the pain of not having them around anymore. the pain of their quiet demise. the pain of setting them free and letting them go. the pain of never having them to himself like a proper family.

loving is so hard for him, so hard on him. so unforgiving to him. so cruel and harsh to him that he hides away behind guarded fists and loaded punches. and you know it, too—he knows you do because you reward his confession with the softest kiss you’ve ever given him as soon as he spills the words.

“i love you,” you murmur the sweet words into his mouth between warm kisses, “i love you. i love you.”

“say it again,” he pleads. it’s easier to let you love him than it is to love you—you don’t mind letting him be a little selfish. he deserves it, in fact.

“i love you. more than anything i’ve ever loved.”

“promise me,” he begs.

“i promise,” you say firmly. “and you don’t have to say it back, not yet. but i want you to know it because you should know you’re loved.”

all at once, the vines wrapped around his chest release, one petal blooming across his heart and arteries at a time until the nectar is running through his veins.

it’s warm. it’s sunny. it’s soft. it’s so, so safe. it doesn’t hurt. it never does with you. you never let it.

“i love you too,” he croaks. he shivers as he says it before he’s grinning slowly, chuckling in wonder as he lets the words sink in before he repeats again, “i love you.”

“yeah?” you beam, eyes crinkling as joy tucks itself into the crevices.

he nods. “yes. and your weird nature lectures.”

you pout, making him laugh. “hey—”

“and your annoyingly aromatic house with petals everywhere—”

“they’re not everywhere—”

“and that ugly dog watering can of yours—”

“it kind of reminds me of you, so—”

“i love them all, and i want them for the rest of my life. i hope you take it easy on the snapdragons, though. i think i’m allergic.”

“such a romantic at heart,” you grumble, rolling your eyes. but they’re glassy, swelling with unshed, precious little tears.

he kisses your eyelids as you close your eyes, murmuring, “i’m doing my best here. cut me some slack, i’ve never dated someone before.”

“oh, wriothesley,” you sniffle, tears coating your sun-soaked skin. and despite the evidence of tears, he’s never seen joy on your face like this before—so clear and radiant. “who taught you about romance? you’re hopeless.”

“hopelessly in love with you,” he shoots back smugly, wiggling his brows.

“i’m doomed,” you snort, letting out a watery chuckle.

“yeah,” he says cheekily, “you are. i hope you’re prepared.”

you kiss him in reply. he kisses you, too. you kiss each other. flowers bloom everywhere your lips touch—wriothesley swallows every petal gratefully.

you love him. you love him not. you love him. you love him not. you love him. you love him not.

you love him.

you love him.

you love him.

it always ends with you love him.

and he loves you, too. you both love each other. the words bounce from both of your tongues like you take turns tasting them, feeling them, familiarizing yourselves with them.

it doesn’t matter who whispers the words first or who murmurs them last. no matter who breaks the silence, it always ends with i love you.

ITS FINISHED. WOW. i never thought a flower shop drabble was going to turn into this—i actually had a completely different flower shop au idea that was going to be a long fic but i just wanted to write a tiny practice round drabble to get the itch out my system before i had time to sit down for the full fic. well as you can see…the practice run kind of took a mind of its own so now we have this. LOL. i think perhaps i will also write the other idea but we will see!!! this one kind of replaced the other one in my heart as flower shop wrio lore lol 🥸

ANYWAY!!! i hope you all enjoyed this as much as i enjoyed writing it. idk if wrio was ooc or not or if i did his past and trauma justice but i certainly tried!! all the things about his past with the siblings and his mother's diary and the croissant at the bakery are all headcanons i carefully crafted and hold so so so dear. they are my truth!!! and they make me fall in love with him so much more deeply :( anyway! if you liked it then as always, reblogs and comments are appreciated. now if you’ll excuse me, i will be doodling his name in pink glitter pen with hearts in my diary and giggling.

Streamer!Genshin celebrating Character!(Y/n)'s birthday

A/n: I have fallen in love with the streamer au as it inspired me to take up on doing some myself! In celebration of my birthday today I thought I'd do something along those lines.

Streamer!Childe, Venti, Bennett, & Albedo celebrating Character!(Y/n)'s birthday, enjoy~

Childe:

He’s been waiting for this day as he’s marked it on his calendar and even a countdown clock whenever he streamed

This man goes all out for the occasion; his studio is all decorated with party décor, his figurines all nicely set up along with the plushies of your character in the background (his biggest plushie of you has a party hat), & he got a cake. Literally his stream for the day will be a birthday party dedicated to you

He has the goofiest smile on his face when getting your specialty dish from the mail, probs would cook up more before doing anything

As this man has a set of goals: he’s going to go farming the perfect artifacts (if he didn’t have them already), if he didn’t already have a fully refined and perfect weapon for you he’s going wishing, and if for some ungodly reason he didn’t managed to raise your constellation yet he’s doing it now (whether your banner is still going or just happens to be a rerun) he’s once again waling for you

Speaking of your constellation, it’s tattooed on his wrist (right below his palm) now and he even shows off the art piece he got commissioned of the two of you together to commemorate the day of your “birth”

Albedo:

He’s been preparing sketches for this very day; the day’s stream is going to be much more laid back than the usual chaos that is when he and Klee play together. It’s pretty much a mix of him doing art, playing Genshin, and even maybe a party game or two with Klee

The two of them made a small cake as of course it wouldn’t be complete without a small drawing of you that he’s done on edible paper

If he happens to have mail that’s from his viewers he’ll take the time to open those, he’s a happy bean when he sees that someone made him the signature jacket that you wore. Speaking honestly he’ll probably live in that for the rest of his life

If he hadn’t already gotten all the artifacts that were perfection and the weapon that best suited you he was going farming and Klee was tagging along for the adventure (she’ll play on the iPad so she could be in the same room, also it’s easier for her)

He’ll also go around with your character and take aesthetic pictures in the game while Klee would want to make Genshin tiktoks

Bennett:

He is so excited that it’s your birthday, the pride and joy of his team that he just adores! Super eager to get your specialty dish and definitely cooks more (can never have too many)

He has his favorite plushie of you right beside him as he plays for his regular viewers

Not the best when it comes to farming but thankfully he has the help of Fischl and Razor with domains, he’s trying to make you the best sub dps/support

He baked a cake during his stream as surely he can’t mess up with the help of his wonderful viewers… At least it was edible in the end

The best part of it all is that he gets to wear his new sweater that had the sleeves as one color while the rest was another color, your element on the front in the upper left, and on the back it says “Proud (y/n) Main” in white

Venti:

He didn’t plan anything too big, but he certainly wanted to do something special since it was your birthday. So he had a few songs he had written about you and watched a couple of edited and mmd videos his viewers sent in

Watching videos definitely turned into a drinking game: take a drink whenever (y/n) pops up, Venti drinks every time he gushes over them. Whoever submitted the mmd of you and that geo archon together wasn’t that amusing; yes he respects everyone's ships, but (y/n) is his baby. With an unamused expression *insert that one Diluc expression here* looks at the camera and says “I just want to talk”

He gets to showcase the iconic instrument you use that he got custom made as he’ll play your theme. If he plays it in game he’s going to random peoples worlds to play your theme maybe troll them a bit before leaving

If he hadn’t don’t your story quest already he’ll probably play through that and quite honestly he wasn’t ready for the feels train as he cried a little or at least pouted a lot

If your banner was still going on or it’s the rerun he’s going to do everything he can in order to level up your constellation and maybe even go try for your weapon if he hasn’t gotten it already. He is a strong believer in (y/n) supremacy, he is the leader of that group

Can I please have a headcanon for the streamers au where they get your character on a rerun of your banner?

You most certainly can! I really do love the streamer au a lot, probs my favorite to write for Genshin :3 I hope you enjoy~ <3

Venti:

Having been the first ever character banner of the released game he wasn’t even prepared in trying to wish for your character

Since then he’s had to live through his friends who were fortunate to get you, but hearing word that you’d be getting rerun was so exciting

He made sure to save up every primogem he could and even saved up money for the just in case funds (he’s had to hold back on buying alcohol or at least buy cheaper brands) 

The moment your banner is live he’s already streaming eager to go to start wishing. His chat is sending good luck and good vibes as the chaos begins while Venti is singing for you to come home

He’s probably calculated things so that he was close to his pity as he could only pray that the archons will let him win his pity:

When getting the gold star he’s eager, but seeing it was a different 5 star he didn’t have or added constellation he’s very sad; however there’s still hope as now he had you guaranteed 

But if he won his 50/50 he is spinning in his chair out of joy; he’ll be even more ecstatic if he gets multiple of you in a 10 pull, it’s a miracle 

You are instantly going into his party, he’s going to level you up since he had prepared himself beforehand so he’s all set. You’re at the front of his party and you will forever stay there

Albedo:

He was one of the few that really wanted to get you when your first banner was released. It was rather disappointing when he was unable to get you from failed pity

Though now that the announcement that you’d be getting a rerun at some point he was getting his hopes up again as he is very much prepared this time around

He has been very good about saving up as also he has been very strategic of what banners he wanted to pull on before you came out wanting to have others that would best support your skills and burst

When the time has come he has been drawing during the whole maintenance time on stream. Mainly it was doodles of you or even possibly an oc he was working on

When it’s finally live he is very confident, since he probably has it all calculated out especially if he had failed his last pity. This will be one of the rare moments when his viewers get to see him show a lot of emotion. You are being put right into the party and before he does anything of building you with what he got prepared just for you; he’s going straight to the voicelines to hear your birthday dialog since his birthday was in September, life is good

Childe:

Truly it was a shocker that he didn’t manage to get you on your banner when your first banner was out. He was very bummed out as you were so cool but also really attractive for an “enemy”. On one bright side of things he did get your weapon so that was all prepared for when you do come home 

He is the MOST impatient one out of the other streams when having to wait during maintenance, but he will not sleep until he can finally wish for you. But of course he’s gonna stream Doom or some other fighting intense game to hang out with his viewers for the meantime

He probably would be doing giveaways as well in celebration of your banner returning or just sending surprise donations to other genshin streamers that happen to be streaming during the downtime as well 

When the time finally comes he is literally bouncing in his gamer chair with pure excitement. But of course before he starts wishing he absolutely has to have your plushie in his arms because he just loves you that much

Regardless if he had won or lost his pity, the moment you first appear and he sees your splash art he’s crying tears of joy that you’ve finally arrived and he can spoil you (tho of course he ain’t gonna stop until he gets all your const.) As of course you’re first in his party and he literally has all the materials to not only ascend you to level 100, but to crown your talents too (he wasn’t playin around) all in all he was very prepared for your arrival

Ayaka:

She was devastated when she failed to bring you home during your first banner, but upon hearing that you would be coming back again fairly in a close coming update she was filled with hope once again

Of course she had been trying to save up (though sometimes she couldn’t help but dip into her wishes for other characters) but now that it was confirmed that you were coming back she got back on track of saving her gems as of course she is more than willing to spend some money if she needed to

When it comes maintenance time she probably would kill time hanging out with Thomas and Ayato (who also play) just so she could distract herself since it felt like it was taking ages to finish

Or if she wasn’t with the two she was seeing to other important matters that needed to be taken care of that needed her attention, but even then she’s a little distracted wondering if the update finished

She would certainly stream once she was able to get into the game to play as she’s just excited that you would be finally coming home to her. She was going to be happy if you had come home once, but if it was possible to unlock your consts then she’d be even more happy. She just loves you a lot and it definitely showed since she had all she needed for you all set and ready to equip and of course you would be placed in her teapot so your character was the first one she saw when she went there

Raiden Shogun:

Even though she tried to not show it to her viewers, she was rather disappointed when you didn’t come home when your banner was first out: she had your weapon prepared, she collected artifacts that she thought would best suit you, she had even started collecting the materials needed for you. Sure it was unfortunate she couldn’t play as you, but that just gave her some extra time to be even more prepared for whenever they would rerun your banner

It was a surprised to hear that your rerun would be much sooner than she anticipated since you were still a fairly new character to the game, but nonetheless she was happy to hear she would get another chance to finally bring you home

She’s another busy person so she’s not even thinking about the maintenance time unless she has a moment of downtime during her work. 

Yae stays teasing Ei about your character because she knows how much Ei adores you (of course Yae had gotten your character during your first banner so she tends to playfully tease her best friend). 

There. Will. Be. Sweets. Of course she’s also a big sucker for desserts herself so what better way to bribe you to come home than to have your favorite food with her while she wished on your banner. She’s someone who doesn’t show much emotion during her streams, but when your splash art appears on her screen she’s going to have a smile on her face and the chat will probably blow up about how pretty her smile is and congratulating her

Ganyu:

Sweet baby had been so sad when she lost pity and failed to bring you home during your first banner but she was already starting to save up for whenever they’d ever re-release your banner again. So when she finally got news of your rerun she was so happy that she wouldn’t have to wait as long as she originally thought she would have to

She already is a very busy person and very hard working so when it comes down to the maintenance time her job makes it easy for her to be distracted during that time frame. Though if she had some free time when she was all done with work for the day she’d probably do some writing 

She would never work on her short fics on stream, she would be too embarrassed if her viewers were watching her while she was writing it, but it makes her happy knowing that they rather enjoy reading the cute stories of her oc and you together. But she is totally cool with talking about story tropes and about her oc, it sometimes helps inspire Ganyu for things she would possibly want to work on in the future

She’s so nervous when the time finally comes though she probably wouldn’t start wishing as soon as your banner is live. She’d probably do the things like commissions and maybe gathering the few things she needed left for you before trying to wish on your banner

She totally would close her eyes during the ten pulls, too nervous to possibly watch the shooting star glow gold. She’s definitely a player who would scream when first seeing the silhouette of your splash art appear on her screen; you finally have graced Ganyu’s day with your presence. You’re going right into the party and she can happily go exploring with you, she can’t help but gush over you and express how happy she is that you’re home

CALM AFTER THE STORM

contents: nanami kento x gn!reader, jjk s2 spoilers (shibuya incident), hurt/comfort, reader is implied to have died years before the shibuya incident, cooking together as a love language, kissing, reunions, death

what is death if not a new beginning?

or, nanami makes his journey to the afterlife. it's not so bad.

it's strange, nanami thinks. he had forgotten what it meant to move without pain, and yet here he is, dancing without a care in the world. his joints don't crack, his knees don't ache. he could have sworn he had injured his eye, and yet, here he is, witnessing the ocean in its full, unfettered glory.

pantai cenang is beautiful. idyllic. not a curse in sight. nanami takes a moment to soak it all in. fine white sand. crystal blue water. coconut trees. there's a distinct lack of people— surprising, given how popular the beach is with tourists— but nanami knows better than to question such a blessing.

there's a little cottage in the distance, one that doesn't exist on any map. in his heart, nanami knows you're inside, humming as you wash the vegetables you'd picked from the garden. it's been too long since he's seen you, held you in his arms. months. years. his heart squeezes. ah, that familiar ache— yearning. he quickens his pace.

absence makes the heart grow fonder. in his mind's eye, you twirl in the sand with him, feet nimble. he spins, more graceful than he’s ever been. he soars. he falls. fighting is dancing in the same way that the waves batter against the shore— beauty and violence, art and destruction.

nanamin! a shout echoes across the water, and nanami lowers his arms, turning on instinct to the familiar voice. even in his retirement, it seems that he can still hear the voice of his loudest student.

ah, he's exhausted— this is what he gets for indulging in the sun. he can sense your frown already. you'd always fretted over him, all soft hands and gentle touches.

the scent of blood rises on the wind, but there is no fear. even sharks need to eat. such is the way life and death dance together.

nanamin! the voice shouts again, or maybe it’s an echo of the first call, bounding across the surf. his fatigue overwhelms him like falling in love— slow, then all at once.

he is so, so tired of fighting.

faster than he can comprehend, there’s a firm pressure against his stomach. a mosquito buzzes around his face. he swats it away idly. there’s something he’s forgetting. something important.

nanamin!

ah. that’s right. he doesn’t have to worry anymore.

“itadori,” he says, voice carrying over the waves. “you’ve got it from here.”

there’s a gut-wrenching snap in his core. it severs something vital, and yet… he’s never felt more alive. he is a hollow-boned creature, like the birds. finally, the weight of the world is no longer his to bear.

your presence calls to him, draws him in from across the beach, and he turns towards your siren’s song. his lips form the shape of your name. in the blink of an eye, his hand is on the doorknob to your cottage.

"i'm home."

you whip around so fast that nanami almost fears your neck will snap clean in two. “kento?”

“it’s me.”

there’s a split second where the world freezes. the light from the late early evening sun dances amongst dust motes. your lips part, and nanami trembles with the force of his want for you.

then, like the tide to the moon, like planets to a star, you crash together. you fly across the room into nanami’s waiting arms, two puzzle pieces finally clicking into place. when he kisses you, you taste like salt, like grief, like joy. it makes him want to kiss you more, kiss you harder, so he does.

you pull away, and nanami only just resists the urge to chase your lips.

"you're... so early. i didn't expect to see you here for a few more decades." you cup his face, fingers tracing over the familiar curves of his cheeks, his jaw. nanami turns his face into the affectionate touches.

"and leave you to eat dinner alone?" nanami leans in again, kissing the tears from your cheeks in a few quick, fluttering brushes of lips against skin. “i’m officially retired. where else would i want to be, if not with you?”

“you’re so romantic today.” there’s a choked quality to your voice.

oh, nanami thinks. it’s really been too long. “i’m romantic all the time for you.”

“i missed you.” apropos of nothing, the words tear from your chest, like you can’t hold them back anymore. your face crumples. heat pricks behind nanami’s eyes as you bury your face against his chest, frame trembling with the effort of holding back your tears. “i missed you so much.”

comfort has never been nanami’s forte, but with you, it’s as easy as breathing to hug you closer, to make soft, soothing sounds, to rub gentle circles over your back.

“i missed you, too,” he says, a confession. the world swims in his vision. he blinks rapidly. “more than you could ever know.”

he rocks you back and forth, back and forth, holding you as you shake apart in his arms. there’s no pressure to perform, no shareholders to impress, no curses to exorcise. only you, and your love, and your touch.

and he gets to have this forever.

nanami’s not sure how long you stay there, only that his skin still hungers for yours when you press a teary kiss to his cheek and maneuver out of his hold. you sniffle, wipe your eyes, and offer him a familiar apron with a watery smile. “here. you still remember how to cook, right, mr. salaryman sorcerer?”

“what are we making?” nanami takes the proffered apron. i’m the cook, it reads. he glances down at your apron, already knowing what it says. kiss the cook. the corner of his mouth twitches up.

“hainan chicken rice,” you say. “when in malaysia…”

“of course,” he says. “pass me the knife.”

it’s been a while since he’s handled a sharp blade. the handle sits in the palm of his hand— rough, worn smooth by years of use. a tool of the home. he finds that he likes the weight of it.

the rhythm of cooking is an intimate waltz. one, two, three. he crushes the garlic under the flat of his knife, then minces it. bits of garlic cling to his fingers, and he picks it off, shapes it into a pile. the papery peel is swept aside, to be returned to the earth.

the edge of his blade is used to peel ginger. short, quick strokes— not a motion wasted. when he’s done, the ginger’s aroma tickles his nose, as sharp as his knife. he slices it thinly and places it next to the garlic.

you heat oil in a pan as he works, humming a low melody. he hasn’t heard it in years, but it’s as warm and familiar as the bed you share. when the oil starts to sizzle, you add in his minced garlic, his sliced ginger. the scent spreads through the room, savory and safe.

you produce rice from a small rice cooker. it’s not ideal to use freshly cooked rice in fried rice dishes, but nanami has every confidence you’ll manage. while you stir in the chicken fat and bullion, he looks around for something else to set his blade to.

cucumbers, fresh from your garden outside. nanami taps one gently, a faint smile pulling at the edges of his lips at the hollow, satisfying thock. it’s quick work to peel them, revealing pale green flesh. it’s even quicker work to slice them. he loses himself in the task, in the comfort of your presence, and lets his muscle memory take over.

“are you using your technique on those poor cucumbers?” there’s a smile in your voice. nanami glances down at the cucumbers, and sure enough, they’re sliced in uneven fractions of 7/10.

the motions of violence are not so easily forgotten, but true peace lasts only in the memory of war. nanami gives you a small smile, presses a soft kiss to your temple, and resumes cutting his cucumbers— evenly, this time. even the sharpest of blades can be repurposed.

dinner is a quiet affair. two plates, two cups of tea, two settings at the table. conversation flows as easily as wine. your foot nudges against his calf— once, twice. he nudges back, delighting in the radiant smile that you can’t seem to hold back.

both of your plates sit empty upon the table. the last dregs of tea cool in your cups. cleaning up is quick, made quicker by long-established routine: he washes, you dry. on the last of the dishes, he leans into you— a silent request. you lean back— acquiescence.

he will never tire of touching you. instinct is a trembling little creature in his heart, and you are the soft hands that soothe him, letting him pull you flush against his chest. minutes drip into hours, and the sun begins its slow descent as he cradles you in his arms. somehow, you migrate to bed, and then everything is warmth and love and perfection.

these quiet delights, this tender intimacy— nanami revels in it, revels in this little life, this future you share.

“the sun is setting,” you murmur, a tender look in your eyes. you’re a vision painted in gold light, an angel in soft sheets. he could soak in you forever. “it’s almost time to go home.”

“is home as good as this?” he takes your hand, presses a kiss to the back of it.

“it’s better.” you slip out of bed, and he follows you outside. a gentle breeze ruffles his hair, brings him the scent of salt and the sea. the sun dips lower on the horizon, and yet, the light only brightens. it’s not harsh, but a gentle, beckoning warmth.

“are you ready, kento?”

“you’ll be with me?” it wouldn’t be a home without you.

“i will. i promise.” you take his hand, lean in, press a kiss to his cheek. tension drains from his shoulders like the low tide. a home with you is more than he could have ever dreamed of. “let’s go home.”

together, you walk into the light. neither of you look back.

tags: @angelshub @enchantedforest-network

| "ᴵᶠ ˢᴴᴱ ᴴᴬˢ ᴺᴼ ᶠᴬᴺˢ ᵀᴴᴱᴺ ᴵ ᴬᴹ ᴰᴱᶜᴱᴬˢᴱᴰ"

- ꜱᴇʟꜰ!ᴀᴡᴀʀᴇ ʜꜱʀ ᴡᴏᴍᴇɴ x ꜱᴛʀᴇᴀᴍᴇʀ!ɢɴ!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ.

- ᴄʜᴀʀᴀᴄᴛᴇʀꜱ: ᴀᴄʜᴇʀᴏɴ, ʙʟᴀᴄᴋ ꜱᴡᴀɴ, ᴋᴀꜰᴋᴀ

- ꜱᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ: ᴘᴜʟʟɪɴɢ ꜰᴏʀ ᴛʜᴇ ɴɪʜɪʟɪᴛʏ ʟᴇꜱʙɪᴀɴꜱ ᴡʜɪʟᴇ ʙᴇɪɴɢ ᴛʜᴇ ᴍᴏꜱᴛ ᴅᴏᴡɴ ʙᴀᴅ ꜰᴀɴ ᴇᴠᴇʀ.

- ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ: ᴅᴏᴡɴ ʙᴀᴅ ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ, ᴄʀɪɴɢᴇ ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ & ᴄʜᴀᴛ (ᴡᴇ ʟᴏᴠᴇ ᴛᴏ ꜱᴇᴇ ɪᴛ), ꜱʟɪɢʜᴛ ᴏᴏᴄ ʙᴇʜᴀᴠɪᴏʀ?, ꜱᴡᴇᴀʀɪɴɢ, ꜱᴜɢɢᴇꜱᴛɪᴠᴇ ᴄᴏᴍᴍᴇɴᴛꜱ ᴀɴᴅ ᴛʜᴇᴍᴇꜱ

ꜱ/ɴ = ꜱᴛʀᴇᴀᴍᴇʀ ɴᴀᴍᴇ

+ ʀᴇᴀᴅʏ? ꜱᴇᴛ… ꜱᴛᴀʀᴛ!

The light emitting from Y/N's computer being the only source of light inside the small streamer's bedroom. Blinds and curtains were closed while the steady stream of users chatting 'Hello' in their livestream multiplied.

"Welcome back to another stream everyone! I have to be just a little quiet today because... It's night, Dark as hell." Y/N spoke with a nervous grin in their face, Chat just spammed random emotes while others asked what they would be doing today.

"So, If you haven't been on the last streams of me just farming every single nook and cranny in this god forsaken game then we are going to be pulling today!"

"....I have saved for SO long omg.." They muttered while booting up the game, A grin now placed on their face as they finally shared their screen.

"I'm on 10 pity and 50/50 so.. I just REALLY hope she comes home! Please! PLEASE! I have pre-farmed and everything!" They yelled quietly while in the dark abyss of their bedroom. Chat just spammed whatever they felt like as Y/N finally showed the wishing screen.

*warning: This may be a bit off script on Kafka's part*

- ＡＣＨＥＲＯＮ || Self-Annihilator

- Acheron would have never once believed she was made for entertainment, Every tragedy she has seen, Every fight she had been engaged to and won most preferably. Yes, She believes she at least has some reasons to not only be made for 'Entertainment'.

- But here she stands, Back pressed against the invisible box she is caged in along with other people who have never been "pulled" by you.

- Her aloof personality helping her understand that "Oh yes, I see. I was merely created to be a puppet, an entertainment. I see."

- Glitching in all her glory, She had always had her eyes on you. From the very moment she gained sentience. Seeing the puppet you control from reality talking to her, Forcing the trailblazers to do your bidding.

- Always hearing you talking about her, Your absurd comments about her is beyond comparable to those of atrocities. Talking to other beings she never even hear at least once speak, Although a robotic voice she could hear, Talking to you and your loneliness.

- Yet, She can't help but feel endeared about some of your comments, Your presence when she would be talking to the Trailblazer had a sort of calming effect on her.

- Still, She absolutely despises you. Have you no sense of pride or dignity?

- She wonders. Just how far can she go before you truly understand what it means to leave a life of fakery.

*ੈ♡⸝⸝🪐༘⋆*ੈ♡⸝⸝⋆*ੈ♡⸝⸝🪐⸝⸝*ੈ♡

"Omg look at her!" Y/N gushed as they stared at the splash art of Acheron. Spam clicking on Acheron's face as some sort of wishing ritual.

"Fellas, is it gay to wanna get stabbed by her? I mean, You're literally getting entered on by a woman." Y/N said suddenly with an eyebrow raised, Looking straight at the camera.

"cupcakemangabaker: We officially lost them"

"YouLeftMeHanging: I bet it's neon purple and fades to black at the base"

"IKnowYoureReal replying to YouLeftMeHanging: WOAH HUH?"

YouLeftMeHanging has been put to timeout

"Alright well! Enough of that! We got ourselves a gay to catch fellas!" Y/N spoke in their most southeasterner accent possible. "Yeehaw brother!" They spoke as they finally clicked the 10 pull.

"Hm.." She hummed as a bright light suddenly engulfed her.

"WHAT THE FUCK?!" They yelled all of the sudden while standing up from their seat as the ticket had a faded rainbow on it, The music changing signifying that it is in fact is a 5 star. "Omg wait wait, No no... PLEASE OMG! WAIT WAIT!" S/N immediately turned off the background music.

As Pompom finally gets blown away and the doors of the astral express opened, The first thing that came on Y/N's screen was

Harmony.. Atleast Bronya... Yay.

As the screen continued against the streamer's wishes, For a split second, The path immediately changed to Nihility.

"Acheron..." Merely a borrowed name. You know my nature, remember my deeds... Thus, I am Acheron." The voice line played as Acheron showed up in front of Y/N's monitor.

Mouth wide open with a dumb struck look on their face, Y/N was both confused and thanking the hoyo-gods for giving them Acheron.

"Now wait just a goddamn minute. We all saw the Harmony icon right? I wasn't hallucinating that shit?" Y/N asked nervously, Wondering if they just hacked the game despite literally not having any sort of mod in game.

"KinkyKnifeCollector: Imagine it's one of those self aware au's I've been reading lmfaoo"

"IDontDoWellWithRopes: i bet another acheron is behind that one too"

"Oh please, That's never happening." Y/N said while rolling their eyes, Clicking on the skip button as they already got Acheron.

10.

10 Acherons suddenly flooded the streamer's screen, "umm..Guys? This really scary" The streamer quoted as they looked back and forth to their screen and camera.

"This is a dream..probably.. because NO WAY." Y/N was starting to second guess themselves at this point. Did they have a hack client? There was no way this was ACTUALLY possible.

"I mean like come on, If hoyo wanted me to get gangbanged by Acheron they should just make her real!" Deciding to just fully ignore chat, Nervously making jokes to lighten the mood. Specifically their mood, Because what the fuck is this bullcrap?!

"ilovemangaandbaking: OMG HOW?? Please please pull on my account ples please pelase pealase"

"[MOD]AMatchIntoWater replying to ilovemangaandbaking: Brother eugh"

"DisgustRunsThroughMyVeins: I bet it's a man (I'm a man).

As Y/N hurried to place Acheron on their team, They are immediately reminded once more that they managed to get E6.. In a singular 10 pull.

Finally placing Acheron on their team, Switching to Acheron immediately as they finally let the most excited scream ever, Even when they said it was night, I'm sure the neighbors won't mind a few screams of terror.

- ＢＬＡＣＫ ＳＷＡＮ || Memokeeper

- Black Swan was a bit shocked at first. After all, Who wouldn't be shocked by the revelation that you are created to be played with?

- Still, She had to be composed as always. Talking to this mascot and husk of a person that occupies the player from reality itself.

- When she no longer mattered did she suddenly get transported into an invisible box in the dark void of the abyss. Space was quite literally moving faster than she had ever seen in this.. box.

- It was little uncomfortable, walking on air. Sure, she could pass through walls but at least she had some sort of grasp of where she is and what she's standing on. Now she has no concept of where in the world she is and she feels like a migraine is coming.

- Her only knowledge of people she is stuck with coming from the trailblazer and even then, the information is barely enough to get her to have at least a conversation with most of them.

- A lost child, A soldier, A guardian... The Astral Express. and some.. sassy lost child with another sassy lost child. She's beginning to see a pattern with the Xianzhou Loufu now.

- She absolutely was bewildered with your comments about her. Something about you wishing to be used by her glass hands.. She supposes she should ignore that part unless her mind delves deeper within the meaning of that.

- Will you still say the same thing when you're face to face with her or will you be consumed by fear itself?

*ੈ♡⸝⸝🪐༘⋆*ੈ♡⸝⸝⋆*ੈ♡⸝⸝🪐⸝⸝*ੈ♡

"haha very funny chat." Y/N spoke blankly as they pressed on another 10 pull, Who knew such character would be so hard to get! Chat was already betting that they would lose their 50/50 on hard pity.

"everyoneisaddlcreference: I BET 100 BUCKS!"

"IgnoringMeAreWe: I BET MY SOUL!"

"Okay we don't HAVE to go that far with the bets calm down!" Y/N spoke, Their No BS facade crumbling as they let out a huff of amusement. "I would let her fuck me, Peg me just come home PLEASE."

As the streamer finally reached hard pity, Chat was already spamming Ls on them, Cyberbullying was their love language they supposed. "I'm taking the fattest L right now dude.."

"Im..ImTheProtagonist!: Point and laugh everyone."

"sentientcupcake replying to Im..ImTheProtagonist!: ick."

"Im..ImTheProtagonist!: WHAT DID I DO?!"

"Omg... PLEASE JUST GIVE ME BLACK SWAN HOYOVERSE!" Y/N yelled as they slammed their desk, It was mostly for the bit of course but maybe breaking their desk might.. work?

"WITH THESE STELLAR JADES I SUMMON, BLACK SWAN!"

"WHAT THE-"

The ticket had a faded rainbow trail on it, It was barely noticeable but Y/N saw it and immediately screamed in happiness. Fuck them neighbors and fuck chat too, IT IS HARD PITY AND JUST GIVE THEM BLACK SWAN.

"Please! All I beg for is Black Swan, I will treat her right!" The streamer added, They were stood up already, hunched in front of the camera as they clicked past the other lightcones they acquired.

"Y/N.. Intriguing name. Hmm... and a fate that's quite elusive." Black Swan's voice rang inside the streamer's headphone, It felt like her voice was echoing inside their brain as they just stared at the splash art of Black Swan.

"SoldMySoulForPoetry: Oh man, I just lost 150 bucks :("

"YourReality: Why is no one mentioning that bs just said S/N's real name LMFAO"

"somearejustmyfavoritesongs: Probably because"

"SpiderDance!1!!1: Oh shit hoyo-police got to him"

"wow.. I mean damn, What the hell." Y/N mumbled as they finally sat themselves back in their chair, Looking over at their chat before awkwardly clearing their throat. "Damn, What just happened?" They chuckled as they clicked past Black Swan. They should probably end stream, they already had Black Swan now and It was so late anyways, plus they had to hangout with their friends tomorrow.

After saying goodbye to chat, Y/N finally let out a heavy sigh, leaning back on their chair as they began to ponder what the hell was that. No use thinking about it, It's just some pixels on a screen anyways.

"You won't even give me an ounce of your thoughts? How unfortunate."

"WHAT THE-"

- Ｋ Ａ Ｆ Ｋ Ａ || Stellaron Hunter

- Of course she knew it, Elio and his scripts, it's a ton of fun messing with you in the Space Station.

- But oh how she loved messing with you even more in the Xianzhou Loufu. You're so easy to read, Your questions had always been anticipated by her. Hearing herself say how your her child just left her wanting to laugh straight in your face.

- Thank god for the unbroken codes, She could mask it well. Although it's more or so of her facade that she keeps up, How adorable seeing you worry about her.

- Perhaps it might have even left her feeling a little giddy and endeared by your subtle love for her.

- It's not even subtle but still, It's like a high school crush. Atleast that's what Silverwolf said, "Ugh, What do you even see in them Kafka?", Honestly, she herself does not even know. All she knows is your absolutely adorable.

- Your words really do leave her breathless, From laughing that is. It's cute seeing you gush about her and literally yell your heart out every chance you see her outside of your quests.

- But now, She has a chance to see you once more. There's not many chances of you seeing her since her banner had been long gone, Too bad you're a new player.

- But don't worry, A few tweaks and tricks by her companion will surely get that job done.

- You'll see her again. again and again until all you see is her. Just Kafka, In your reality. It's not gonna be a dream anymore, no.. no. Just you and her in the endless vast sea of space.

⋆·˚ ༘ <3*⋆·˚ ༘ *⋆·˚ ༘ *🔭!

"Guys, I'm not hacking I swear." Y/N spoke seriously as they checked their second monitor, Wondering how in the world they managed to get on Kafka's banner when it practically ended AGES ago. "This is like.. What is this? What even is this, I am so confused bro."

"I haven't even managed to farm THAT MANY stellar jades yet, I'm still stuck on the Loufu what the hell!" Y/N stated while throwing their hands up in the air, The wishing screen only having Kafka's banner on as well as the signature lightcone. No second banner, No standard banner, JUST Kafka.

"ilikefantasynovels: Guys donate to S/N so they can buy oneiric shard."

"Falckason: they're so poor charity is considered a heaven-sent for them LOL

"ItBoy donated $500: Take the L S/N"

"WHAT DO YOU MEAN TAKE THE L, YOU DONATED 500 DOLLARS! also by the way thank you, I really appreciate it." They whispered the last part onto the mic as they put their face cam on full screen so the users couldn't see their credit card details.

"This is not scamming chat, My game is just built different." Y/N spoke with confidence as they finally switched the screen back to the wishing menu. "Obviously, I'm using 500 dollars worth of stellar jades just for Kafka."

"WindResistance: you were gonna get E6S5 Kafka one way or another"

"TRUE! That's sadly but not that sad.. very true. Look I just love her so much is it too much to ask for?!" Y/N yelled dramatically. "If I get her on my first ten pull I will end stream!"

Chat obviously disagreed with whatever stupid declaration S/N was saying in the heat of the moment. I mean come on, They were on 10 pity with literal dogshit luck!

As Y/N finally clicked the 10 pull button, The trail of the ticket glowed with a trail of rainbow, An obvious sign that it was a 5 star. Chat went wild seeing the streamer get a 5-Star on their 2nd 10 pull. Bombardments of 'WHAT' and random emotes flooding the small streamers chat box.

And the first thing that showed on Y/N's screen was...

"Hi, Astral Expressers... Well, you caught me." Kafka's voice line played, Chat spamming whatever emote they felt like while the streamer jumped off their seat and knelt down on the ground, As if praising every God they knew.

Sounds of dramatic yelling and crying were heard far off from the mic as Y/N was spouting nonsense before they immediately stood up and retuned to their desk. "Alright boys and girls! ENDING STREAM!" Y/N yelled once more into the mic before sincerely bidding the chat farewell, Ending the stream completely.

Y/N sighed heavily, A boulder lifted off their shoulders as they sat back down on their chair. Blankly looking at the screen of Kafka's splash art as they let a small giggle of happiness escape them.

"Kafka... Kafka" They hummed as they skipped past the pull, Before being bombarded by 7 different Kafka's and Bronya's light cone. "Oh what the hell?" They mumbled under their breath as they did double-take on their screen, Tiredness was slowly creeping up on them. They didn't even know if this was reality anymore.

"I should.. probably head to bed." They mumbled once more under their breath, Turning off the game and PC before heading to bed. Slowly drifting off to sleep as they laid in bed. Too bad you didn't realize the whispers of a certain someone.

𝘛𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘬 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘴𝘰 𝘮𝘶𝘤𝘩 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘪𝘯𝘨! 𝘐 𝘢𝘱𝘱𝘳𝘦𝘤𝘪𝘢𝘵𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘱𝘰𝘴𝘵 𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘰𝘧 𝘈𝘓𝘓 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘱𝘰𝘴𝘵 𝘪𝘯 𝘛𝘶𝘮𝘣𝘭𝘳. 𝘉𝘶𝘩-𝘣𝘺𝘦 <3

(Asks are open :>)

Is your asks open? if so, can i request about the genshin streamer au? How would the characters react if they lost the 50/50 when pulling for you the first time and the reader wont come home?

Losing 50/50 on Your Banner - Genshin Streamer AU (Male Reader)

October 20 (4)

Tumblr Posting Marathon: https://at.tumblr.com/explicitred/tumblr-posting-marathon-oct-17-cyno-headcanons/8sy6ewfg7r6k  

Hahahahahaha losing 50/50 on your banner? No way, you're their beloved. You would never- QIQI CAME HOME.

Oh? You didn't come home, what a pity. (get it? lol)

These following characters would react shocked and overdramatic to you not coming home. For example, they would sulk that their beloved did not come home for the whole stream; even after getting you. Childe (He did character sacrifices and rituals for you. Childe even danced to specialist and went to your favorite place), Xiao, Heizou (he’d just be overdramatic lol)

I mean- they have so much money they would just spend more primos and force you to come home. You really don't have a choice lol. Gotta practice those dance moves to dodge those wishes. Diluc, Pantalone, Childe, Ninguang

Pantalone’s not even phased when you don’t come home, he just smiles with his 1 million primogems. Even his stream is not phased with how much primogems he has at this point, they’re too used to his rich self.

These characters are broke. I guess they have to wait until someone donates to them on stream or grind for primogems and do more character sacrifices. Venti, Mona, Zhongli (he can just go to Childe honestly)

Streamer!Genshin Meeting Character!(Y/n) for the First Time

Characters: Scaramouche, Childe, Albedo, Kaeya, Venti

Scaramouche:

His viewers were constantly requesting that he play this game that’s been out for a little while now that was called Genshin Impact. So he finally gave in to see what all the talk was about

Getting through the tutorial and the first part of the chapter felt so long; visually it was beautiful as the story was pretty decent so far.

It wasn’t until he got to Liyue in the archon quest that things seemed to pick up for him. The character who saved him from almost getting arrested kind of irked him; it reminded him of his one roommate who was a rich kid type.

It wasn’t till the release of the event Unreconciled Stars that once again many of his followers flooded his messages telling him he needed to play the event during his streams so they could see his reaction to meeting a new character.

Curiosity peaked after hearing a bit that the character would be an electro catalyst. Which he started to play it instead of holding off for a few days; honestly he really wasn’t expecting much

It was until he finally saw you appear; he was a bit surprised as you weren’t exactly how he pictured you yet you looked cute but in a cool way? A little more of the interaction he’s a little on the fence on how he feels about you but he was interested in where this event was going, there was something just a little bit… off

Progressing he was a little bit bummed since he thought there would have been a bit more interaction with you. That was until he was back in Mondstadt with Mona who was helping solve this mystery when pleasantly surprised that you’ve showed up. Until Mona seemed to have some sort of revelation that caused her to teleport them all out of there

Needless to say he wasn’t happy that he was taken away from seeing you. “Excuse me you bring me back,” was his initial reaction but continued to watch when it was more clear that you were there to kill him. You were that other harbinger; number six of the fatui harbingers and the moment you snapped at one of the agents, you had instantly become one of his absolute favorites.

Childe:

Though his viewers have been requesting to play the soon released game Genshin Impact he has actually been long awaiting for this game.

To celebrate the release it was going to be a long stream as he’s stocked up on water and energy drinks and snacks. He’s definitely planning to do a giveaway for his viewers (though he won’t bring it up until he finally unlocks the wishing feature)

He enjoyed the plot so far as the conflict with Dvalin has been resolved but now the ameno archon’s gnosis was stolen by some woman who appeared out of nowhere. Soon to learn about the fatui group and their eleven harbingers

Off to Liyue at long last! There’s been chatter of one character that shows up fairly early in the quest and he is very curious to encounter whoever this character was

He was finally at the part where Rex Lapis came crashing down from the sky dead and now was sneaking to get to the exit. Definitely took him a couple of times and in the process of it all he was certainly singing the whole “Don’t be suspicious, don’t be suspicious” song

Finally getting the cutscene where his character gets chased after unfortunately making sound. When things looked like it was going to turn into a fight he was surprised when hearing a new voice say “I got this one sweetie”. His mouth has dropped in pure awe of watching your character flip from above appearing out of thin air as you handled the Millelith with ease

Hearing you say follow me he had such a grin on his face; “Don’t gotta ask me twice I’ll follow you anywhere”. Of course his viewers in chat were raving and just spamming the laughing emote as the cutscene continued in a safe place

Looking at your character model admiring you as the reveal that you were a part of the harbingers but seemed to be rather friendly. “You guys I’m in love. (Y/n) better be a playable character at some point… I’ll be sad if I don’t get to travel the world with them” he says as when he finds out you're rich his initial thought was “So are they going to spoil me or do I get to spoil them? Cuz I really want it to be the second one” He hadn’t known you for long but he already wants to give you the world

Venti:

He was mainly known for his streams where he’ll sing or perform some of the instruments he enjoys and many of the games he’d play were a lot of rhythm games or one of the hilarious simulator games; so for him to pick up Genshin Impact it’s a little outside of the typical games he’ll usually play

He really loves the music so far, if the music wasn’t to his liking he’d probably drop it. Will probably take a moment to just listen to it and talk about what possible instruments used to compose it

After running around the world and looking for chests and whatever materials he saw along the way. He suddenly saw the big dragon fly over head and now making his way to the whispering woods to look for the feathered looking dragon

The cut scene started and there was the dragon on a rock but then he saw you; he doesn’t know anything about you but having seen you in some of the images that the company released he’s been interested in your character!

During your moment with your old friend had was making this face 🥺 but then that was when the snapping sound echoed causing the dragon to freak out and leave in a gust of wind. “Noooo I’m so sorry” he’s shouting at the screen when he watched the expression on your face turn sad before you seemed to just vanish

Has been bummed out since he hadn’t seen your character in a while until he saw you running with a lyre in your hand, he only fell in more love with you as he was running around with you trying to get the holy lyre from the church

Albedo:

It had been a while since more of the story was out but of course he’d play to do his commissions and gather materials he needed, but when his viewers showed him the announcement of the newest section of the map will be released; oh there was a new temperature mechanic that if it was too cold that his characters could freeze to death

Generally that would be fine… but he enjoys stopping and admiring the scenery which he easily gets distracted so he’s probably going to keep forgetting to stand by fire a lot

But the best part of all: they were introducing you, the chief alchemist of the Knights of Favonius. The one that was talked about by so many characters in their voice lines he finally was going to get a face to the name

He was already not liking that the so called ‘nun’ was insinuating that you weren’t trustworthy; the AUDACITY! Sure he hadn’t known your character long but he will defend you wholeheartedly, you have this charismatic to you that he’s just smitten

“If one day, I lose control… Destroy Mondstadt… Destroy everything… Can I rely on you to stop me?” After hearing that last line he needs a minute to take a double take to make sure he heard that correctly. “I swear if this is some sort of indication of something bad happening and I have to fight (y/n) I will not be happy,” he’s saying of course looking to his camera

Kaeya:

So many of his viewers were requesting that he play Genshin Impact as of course it would be a little different from the games he’s played in the past (Ya can’t tell me he wouldn’t have played Huniepop and doki doki literature club), but the idea of attractive characters in the game? He’s sold as the few characters he saw pictures of it seemed promising.

So he starts streaming it and all is going smoothly so far… Until it was time to learn about gliding right before Stormterror attacks and the mini flying fight happened

Once the cutscene starts he’s watching leaning back in his chair a bit until a clapping sound starts and that’s when everyone in chat was losing it and spamming the heart eyes emotes. Seeing you come into the shot he’s got a small little smirk; you were hot. He only seemed to love your character even more after hearing that you were the cavalry captain

When it came time to do your trail quest (which of course was the first one he went to do) he’s very much looking at your design and admiring your charming features. He asks his viewers if he leaves the domain if he gets to keep you or if you were one of the five stars that he’d have to wish for, spoilers don’t really bother him if he really wants to know what happens.

Seeing your summon art once he left he’s ecstatic that you will be forever in his team and once he’s able to he’s going farming so he can build you up

i do (only exist for you)

word count: 1.8K content warnings: unhealthy relationship dynamics, objectification (not at reader), violence (relatively vague/not super explicit but not minor), emetophobia, they/them is used for reader

characters included: childe

a/n: this is a repost (heavily edited in some parts, lightly edited in others)! and a sequel to this. like the previous installment, you can read this as a standalone modern au thing, but it'll make more sense with the previous context. also on ao3! next part

the two of you aren’t actually married yet, but with the way your ajax treats you, you might as well be.

"I’ve placed your lunch in your bag along with the homework assignments you left out yesterday. remember to eat it this time, okay? and don’t forget the train leaves late today." you’re too sleepy to protest as he sticks your arms into a coat, one that you only realise is his once he’s done zipping it up.

"we’re going to the same class," you supply groggily, rubbing at your eye while he smoothes out your hair. "…didn’t you go to sleep after me? where do you get all this energy from?"

"yeah, but it feels more homely if I tell you all this before we leave the apartment." he says, smoothening out your hair again (you think he just likes having an excuse to touch you) and wrapping a scarf loosely around your neck.

you’re surprised he hasn’t started calling it our apartment at this point, but you’re not going to give him the idea lest he actually starts doing so.

he puts a surprising amount of effort into tucking the scarf into his coat properly, and you have to admit he’s very good at bundling you up. you feel super cozy. "being able to care for you is all the motivation I need to wake up early to make you breakfast."

you hum, pressing your head into his shoulder, close to drifting off again, until his words set in and you recoil. "wait wait, how early exactly? please tell me you got more than three hours of sleep."

he laughs heartily, his hand coming up to caress your cheek. "aww, are you worried about me?" you weakly swat at his arm and he laughs again. "don’t worry, don’t worry, not that early. I woke up at seven."

you sigh and he pulls you in for a kiss. when he pulls away, his eyes are full of adoration. "I love you."

"the bed was empty when I woke up at six briefly."

he chuckles again, but it has a nervous tinge this time. "aha, busted…"

you sigh once more, zipping up his coat for him. he beams down at you as you do, fondness dancing in the way his eyes creak whenever he’s in your presence. "come on, we’re going to be late."

"right," he says, picking up both of your bags and holding on to your hand and then somehow still locking the door behind you singlehandedly.

the two of you burst out laughing when you realise he forgot to take off his apron when you arrive and take off your coats.

"all the more to prove to everyone else I’m your soon-to-be husband." he winks at you, ruffling your hair when you tell him there’s still a couple years left before either of you graduate.

"ajax."

he sighs contently, nuzzling into you. "I love it when you say my name."

"ajax," you say his name slightly louder, "let me out."

the arms around you tighten. "no."

you groan, throwing your head back. "ajax, I need to load the washing machine."

he whines against the crook of your neck. "no, you don’t."

"ajax…"

"I can do it later, okay? don’t leave my arms."

"your arms are not the only thing trapping me here," you say, but his legs just tighten around you and you find yourself even more pressed against his chest. "and someone needs to do it."

he whines again. "I don’t like it when you leave my arms."

you poke his side, unimpressed. "we can hold hands while I do it then."

he tuts, pressing his face deeper into your hair. the next time he speaks, it’s directly above your ear. he sounds more serious than he usually does. "but you shouldn’t have to do any work. I wish you just sat back and let me do it all."

you sigh. this sort of conversation has been happening more and more frequently lately, especially since you accepted his proposal. "come on, not this again… a healthy relationship is about giving and taking in eq—"

"but I want to do all the giving and I want you to do all the taking." you close your mouth and stop talking when he presses you further into him. "I meant it, you know? I want to take care of you."

frustration seeps through his words when he speaks, more than you’ve ever heard from him before. "aren’t people supposed to like it when they’re spoiled? you’re the most special person in my life, and I want to do everything for you. you shouldn’t have to lift a finger, and I hate that this world is so against that. if this were…"

he cuts himself off and quiets for a few seconds. with your face still pressed against his chest, the only thing you can hear is your quiet breathing and his heartbeat.

"I hate that you won’t let me treat you like you should be treated."

"ajax…" your hand moves up from where it was resting on his back to comb through his hair gently.

he whimpers and squishes his face against the side of your head. "I really love it when you say my name."

both of you remain quiet for a bit. you’re tempted to forget about the laundry, close your eyes and drift off, when ajax speaks up again. "I’m yours. you shouldn’t hesitate to make use of me."

even in the heat of the moment, that sort of line sounds a lot more romantic in fiction.

he coos into your ear when you scratch his head lightly. "ajax, you don’t just exist to be used by others. there’s more to you than just that."

"I do," he insists, but quiets down and doesn’t argue further.

"I do only exist for you," he says again, a while later when you’ve pretty much fallen asleep in his arms.

even after two years of living together, you still refuse to use him as you should or let him treat you like you deserve to be treated. it makes him feel all sorts of bitter; he doesn’t want to (and doesn’t deserve to) force you into anything, but whenever you push him away, it stings.

whenever you put distance between the two of you and insist on straining yourself, he feels like he’s failed you. it just further drives home that he’s really so worthless that you can’t rely on him, and he knows this isn’t a problem getting stronger for you will fix.

it’s been a long, long time since he felt this useless. he loathes the feeling.

ajax stretches, not missing the opportunity to flex his body. "that was fun! I don’t mind if you cling onto me a bit more next time, though… you’re so cute when you get startled by the jumpscares."

"mhm, sure." you pay his obvious attempt at showing off no mind and instead let out a yawn. "want to get something to eat? I’m hungry."

"are you sure you don’t want to head home?" you nod, reaching for his hand. he intertwines his fingers with yours eagerly. "do you have any place in mind? my treat."

"it’s always your treat." you roll your eyes, but lead him towards the restaurant you’d been thinking of regardless.

"of course," he laughs. "what sort of fiancé would I be if I didn’t pay for your food?"

"what sort of fiancé does that make me, then?"

he laughs and you remember why you fell in love with him again.

"don’t be silly. it’s your job to get spoiled rotten by me." he tugs on your arm, pulling you closer to him, and presses his lips to your cheek.

"if you spoil me too much I’ll go bad for real, you know."

despite the joking undertone, he looks displeased and he tugs on your cheek, pouting. "of course not. and even if you did, I’ll still love you."

you huff, unable to stop yourself from laughing, and elbow him. "you’re so—"

you cut yourself off when you notice the hooded person standing imposingly in front of both of you. immediately, you feel ajax stiffen and step slightly in front of you, but he doesn’t seem particularly threatened so much as just wary and protective.

once he realises he’s been noticed, the man in front of the both of you tilts his head. "hand over all your money, and I won’t have to get violent."

"hah," ajax barks, sardonic and entirely foreign to your ears. "I don’t think so."

the next few moments go by in a flash.

grunting, the attempted mugger pulls out a knife and dives forward. you barely register how you’ve stepped back out of instinct before he’s completely soaked and there’s a large gash across his torso.

nobody moves for a couple seconds, until the guy’s eyes trail down hesitantly and he goes white. his arms immediately come to cradle his stomach. "what the fuck—"

it takes you another second to realise what’s happened. bile rises up your throat.

there’s a part of you that’s relieved it’s winter, that the sun has already set and there’s not too many people around, that you’re not about to get robbed at knifepoint.

"I’ll kill you if you touch them." your fiancé’s tone is much darker than you’ve ever heard when he speaks. you’ve always known he wasn’t the type to shy away from conflict, but the way he says it just after cutting open someone else makes the hair on your arms raise.

"you fucking bitch—" the other guy doesn’t get a chance to get anything else out before ajax kicks him. you feel your stomach tense at the squelching sound he makes when ajax’s foot comes into contact with his torso.

you feel worse when he grabs the man’s hair and wrist, a pained shout and loud crunch accompanying the drop of the knife.

the hairs at the base of your head rise at his tone. "I told you, don’t touch them." you block out the rest of what he says, but from the way the mugger’s face pales even further it can’t have been anything good.

you swallow down the urge to vomit and tug on ajax’s sleeve. for a moment, you’re worried he’s going to turn violent on you, but it barely takes him a second to turn to you, and when he does his face is relaxed and smiling like he usually does.

whatever your expression looks like, he softens as soon as he sees it. his hands are off the mugger soon and then he’s all but pulling you into his chest. you think you hear the guy run off, but it’s hard to focus on anything but the way ajax soothingly rubs your back and murmurs apologies into the crown of your head.

if he feels how much you’re shaking, he doesn’t comment on it. or rather, he just apologises more.

you have a feeling he’s apologising more for the fact that you saw him like that and that he scared you than what he actually did.

and above all, you hate the part of you that feels exhilarated about him loving you.

aftercare with abby <3

summary: abby taking care of reader after an eventful evening together.

warnings: mentions of sex, descriptions of nudity. no outbreak/modern!au. short n sweet fluff <33

a/n: my first abby work ahhh. i love my big sexy gf!! pic cred: hyujies on pinterest

don’t stop talking about palestine

tlou2 is based on the israeli occupation of palestine. don’t not purchase tlou-related products. i don’t mind making silly little fics abt silly little pixels but if ur interacting with my posts, know that i am in full support of palestine and palestinians

✧

7:48pm.

abby glanced at the clock on her bedside table, reading the time quickly before turning her focus back to you. the setting sun painted the room in a beautiful orange hue, illuminating every corner. though the sunlight never looked more gorgeous than when it landed on you.

you were laid on your stomach, hands placed under your cheek as deep breaths escaped parted lips. and while the comforter was stretched over your hips, the skin of your back glowed, and abby swore she saw a sparkle dancing across your body. perhaps it was the sweat from the evening’s previous endeavors, or her eyes playing tricks on her, but then again her eyes always saw stars when it came to you.

you were absolutely ruined.

by the time she got done with you, your legs hardly had the energy to carry you to the bathroom. in fact the blonde had to do so herself.

“tired you out, huh pretty girl?” she’d tease, making you blush and bury your face in her neck as she carried you bridal style over the threshold and into the bathroom.

she carefully took a damp wash cloth to clean your inner thighs. “open up for me, baby.” the entire time you’re sleepily mumbling sweet nothings in her ear with a cheek on her shoulder.

“i love you so much abigail,” you’d whisper. to which she’d always reply, “i love you more.” no matter how much you tried to fight her on the subject, it was but a losing battle.

after getting cleaned up, you both had fallen asleep in each other’s arms, the soft beating of your girlfriend’s heart lulling you to sleep.

that was hours ago.

abby had woken up before you, rubbing her eyes and checking the time, seeing you both had been asleep for nearly two hours. usually, she’d wait for you to wake up so you’d decide together on what to eat. though, it was getting late, and most restaurants would be closing within the hour.

she could softly shake you awake or go grab something quick for the two of you, but if she’s learned anything in the past two years, it’s to never interrupt your beauty rest and don’t leave you alone while you’re asleep.

the taller girl ponders momentarily, though the growl of her stomach is what pushes her to climb out of bed, careful not to wake you.

she throws on a comfortable outfit, walking out the closet to give your forehead a quick kiss.

once she’s got to her car she sends a quick text in case you were to wake when she’s gone.

to my love: hey baby, just stepped out to grab dinner. be back soon ❤️

✧