Latest Posts by that-jax - Page 4

Second Son Navigation | A Regulus Black Series

Synopsis: Forbidden from contacting Harry over the summer, you opt to explore the eerie halls of Grimmauld Place where you stumble upon a lonely portrait of the House's second son.

Warnings: Story is not canon compliant. Includes time jumps. Magic lore is altered/not compliant with canon HP series.

Status: Completed (03.14.23 - 04.24.23)

Main Masterlist

Chapter I

Chapter II

Chapter III

Chapter IV

Chapter V

Chapter VI

Chapter VII

Chapter VIII

Chapter IX

Chapter X

Chapter XI

Chapter XII

Chapter XIII

Chapter XIV

Chapter XV

Chapter XVI

Chapter XVII

Chapter XVIII

Chapter XIX

Chapter XX (Epilogue)

Some good ol’ unhinged Kaz Brekker (+ridiculous doodles). Hats off to Freddy Carter for slaying it this season, just nonstop outstanding performance!

The deal

Fandom: Six of Crows

Pairing: Kaz Brekker x fem!Reader

Summary: You work in a brothel and all of the sudden Kaz Brekker becomes a frequent visitor who prefers to stay in the shadows until you come up to him first.

Warnings: soft Kaz, mentions of touch aversion

Word count: 2,7k

— Let me guess. Are you going to use an excuse that you're looking for something again?

— No, this time I'm only looking for you.

Your mother once warned you about how cruel the world was and how important it was to be careful. Young girls often caught the attention of slavers and it would probably break your parents' hearts if they knew exactly how your life had turned out after their death. Your aunt was supposed to take you from Fjerda to Ravka, but your ship was attacked by pirates and instead you ended up in Ketterdam when you were fifteen.

In some way you were lucky. You got a place at the Rainforest, an extremely posh and expensive place. The guests were usually wealthy travelers, diplomats, or members of the Merchant Council, so you didn't have to worry about your safety. The girls had to keep the good mood of the clients, but everyone put a different meaning to the words. Some wanted only sex, some wanted company to talk to. They were all escaping loneliness, and you couldn't blame them for that.

But among the row of all the others, only one guest was special. The tapping of his cane on the wooden parquet was unmistakable. You had to have lived in Ketterdam as a complete hermit, blind and deaf, if you didn't know who Kaz Brekker was. Rumors about him flooded the streets, intimidating and exaggerating every little thing about him. But there was no doubt that this guy was very dangerous indeed. His cane broke a lot of bones, and his brilliant mind ruined a lot of lives.

It was not for you to judge how people preferred to rest in their spare time. Sometimes you spotted Jesper in his another funny hat at the playhouse across the street from your second-floor window. You two even talked a couple of times when you ran into each other on the street after the establishments were closed. But seeing Kaz Brekker at the Rainforest required a special occasion.

He seemed like a complete stranger in the place. His eyes were constantly scanning the room, his whole body was tense and looked more like a wax statue than a living person. He was clearly uncomfortable in the brothel, even if he tried to hide it, and his face remained a perfect blank sheet that could easily be given a slight interest. You might have believed it, but a few years at the Rainforest had taught you much better insight into men. Being able to read the slightest visible reaction was part of your job.

Anyone else came to a brothel for entertainment. People wanted to get some female attention and flirtation, to drink and spend a huge amount of money so they could leave at dawn with a smile and a sense of having had a good time. They came "from somewhere." But Kaz Brekker came "to somewhere." He was cautious, but at the same time quite determined, and he clearly had a purpose of some kind. You had seen him at the bar a few times, but then he disappeared faster than you could figure out what kind of drink he had in his glass.

It took a whole week before you realized exactly what was going on. Kaz carefully looked around the main hall, but never went any farther. You had to be a guest accompanied with a girl to go up to the second and third floor, where the girls' rooms for work and the office of the accountant and the club owner were located. You wondered what Kaz wanted to find that was so important that he didn't entrust the job to Jesper, who could pretend to be a client and sniff it out. From what you had heard, Kaz Brekker was probably the only man in Ketterdam who didn't use brothels for their intended purpose.

— Do you need any help or are you going to keep looking around every corner and memorizing what time the guards at the entrance change?

You walked up to him first, leaning innocently beside him on the bar, and glanced curiously at his glass. Vodka and ice? The club's shelves were stocked with liquor, but Kaz Brekker certainly had to stand out in this one, too. The simpler, the better, that's for sure.

— What makes you think I'm interested in security? — Kaz's husky voice carefully concealed his surprise, as if he'd been so caught up in his own thoughts that he hadn't noticed you approaching. And it was further confirmation of how different he was from the people around him. People didn't come to brothels to drink in silence and think about personal things.

— Well, I have eyes, and I can use my mouth to find out that you haven't been with any of the girls, even though it's the fourth time you've been here in a week, — you chirped, giving one of the clients a smile before you turned your attention back to Kaz, your tone changing to more businesslike. — The cane and gloves. This black suit. If you want to go somewhere incognito, I suggest you use a disguise in the future, Kaz Brekker. Everyone is capable of recognizing you in this town, as well as exactly what you're known for. Are you planning another heist here?

Kaz was ready to curse himself for how obvious it was. A foolish scheme had turned out to be an even more foolish finale. He had originally wanted to dig into the situation himself, after Inej had given him the details of the owner, the number of girls and the size of the rooms. But one look at the crowd was enough for him to spot you and that dark blue dress with the veil you wore that first night. Like the sky in the middle of the night. A mystery lying in plain sight. It wasn't until his third night that he was able to find you among the other girls in the hall, guided by the shade of hair he remembered, when he could finally see your face.

Perhaps all these years the Saints had shielded him from unnecessary sympathy and feelings for someone just to give him the illusion of invincibility. He loved nothing and nothing could be taken from him. Kaz believed this as if he really didn't have the ability to feel anything. And that's why he was so shaken by how much he remembered that image of you with the veil and how much he wanted to know more about you. He was so unrestrainedly crushing on you that he still hadn't moved forward with the plan. He needed the access to the second floor, but he didn't have the courage to come up to you and pretend to be your client. Kaz shook at the thought of touching you and the anxiety came along with nausea almost instantly.

— There will be no heist. I just need to look at a couple of documents. I won't even take them with me, — Kaz replied discreetly, forcing his appraising gaze to stop on your face. Too beautiful. Too distracting. He shouldn't have told you anything but he hoped his honesty would buy him a way out.

— I can help. In exchange for a favor, of course.

You leaned closer to him in a trusting manner, and your fingers gently touched Kaz's shoulder. Just for a second, so lightly that the touch seemed phantom and unreal. Whatever past Kaz held, it made him keep his distance from people in a literal sense. Your observation of the previous nights was enough to realize that Kaz was not a fan of touches, even casual ones. The gloves clearly served him as an extra layer of protection, though you were curious about what had happened to him that caused such a reaction. Many girls in brothels reacted similarly negatively to touching after a while, but Kaz didn't seem like the kind of person who would work in such an establishment.

— Okay, let's say I would agree to your terms. Hypothetically. What would you ask for? — it was hard for Kaz to imagine what a girl like you might need. Money? Freedom from your indenture? Or someone else's death? He knew how much brothels disfigured and perverted the psyche, no one remained a saint there.

— You will take your gloves off next to me. No touching. But you will take them off so we are equal.

You were absolutely unwavering in what you said. Some tension thickened between you, and the air seemed almost electrified. Kaz Brekker was a threat to everyone in Ketterdam, but something told you that he could show an unusual softness around you. You'd met guys like that before. They built themselves up to be important and confident, they controlled other people's lives, but when they were alone, they all wanted to give up some of their control. To give it to someone else, to breathe easier. You wondered if Kaz was really the same.

He threw a quick glance toward the exit, as if miscalculating his escape route, but finally nodded in silent agreement. A smile bloomed on your lips, and you wrapped your fingers lightly around Kaz's wrist over his jacket to lead him up the stairs. The guards let you through without any questions, and you wondered if they knew who the dark-haired guy with the cane next to you was. If they did, they would have preferred to kick him out in fear that he would pick all the locks and stashes in the brothel.

You led Kaz to the very last door and carefully looked around before nodding approvingly. Time was short, but you had no doubt that Kaz would manage to find what he needed.

— All of the owner's papers are here, so as all the accountant's reports. He'll be back in half an hour, after lunch, but if I were you, I'd hurry, — you warned him with a charming smile, without any guilt for taking a criminal to the brothel's main office. — Be a good boy and come see me afterwards. Second door on the left. I've heard you always stick to your part of the deal.

You didn't wait for his answer and went to your room. You had time to open a window and fix your hair before a polite knock reached your ears, and then Kaz came inside. Quite pleased, judging by the look on his face. Whatever he was looking for, he found it. The door closed behind him with a quiet click, though you knew no one would dare disturb you anyway.

— You could have told me. I wouldn't have wasted my time, — Kaz's voice, despite the accusation in his words, was filled with real amusement. His blue eyes twinkled with surprise, though he quickly returned to his usual reserved look.

— I wanted to watch you at work. How fast you can do it. Your fame runs far ahead of you.

You shrugged innocently, smiled softly, and then stepped back, resting your back against the windowsill. The light breeze from the open window played mischievously with your hair, and you threw your head back for a moment, closing your eyes to relax. When you looked up again, Kaz was already in front of you. His cane had been left next to a nearby chair, and his last step toward you was extremely neat, since Kaz was trying not to put pressure on his bad leg.

— I know a couple of Healers. They could have helped you with your leg. Your life would have been a lot easier, but I guess you thought about it and gave up that option. Do you use this pain to punish yourself? — you spoke more quietly, and everything inside you froze with a strange anticipation.

Tension rang in the air and only got stronger as Kaz slowly began to remove his gloves. When was the last time he'd done this in front of someone? Had it even happened once? He looked so vulnerable, so collected and soft at the same time, that you immediately wanted to praise him. It was clearly a huge step for him, and you were about to ask why he decided to do it after all, but Kaz beat you to it, breaking the long pause.

— To remember. Pain reminds me that I am alive. That I have some weaknesses. Given what I do, it's easy to believe in my own invincibility. I've seen it bring people down, — Kaz's voice lowered and literally vibrated.

What was happening seemed like a real obsession to him, but he was already here and this was his chance, so he cautiously took another step, standing quite close so that your chests almost touched. The stale smell of water crept up his nose as the first sign of future panic, but Kaz did his best to get rid of it. Some things have to be done the other way around, so even though all his instincts were screaming for him to step back, he shortened the distance between you and touched your hair unabashedly, tucking the strand behind your ear.

— It's a good strategy, but I feel sorry that you have to use it, always feeling pain with every move, — you didn't try to move away, nor did you comment on Kaz's actions. The attraction between you could be felt under your skin. Kaz was handsome as hell, and part of you wished he could have been a mere client. So you could flirt and touch him without any consequences, without making him uncomfortable.

— Your strategy is pretty good, too. In a few years you've made a great career move, from a usual servant to an accountant of one of the top brothels. Do you still work with clients?

— I'm a fast learner. And yes, I don't have to sleep with anyone anymore, but sometimes I still spend time around big clients to make sure there aren't any problems.

Kaz nodded, not really paying attention. He could hardly think about anything right now while his whole body was in a state of peak tension. For the first time in his life he was so attracted to someone, and it shook him to his core. Kaz wanted to go further, but his mind was frantically trying to figure out exactly what was going to happen. Was your attraction mutual? If he risked touching you for real, how quickly would panic overshadow desire? If you knew about who he was, did you realize the danger he brought with him?

It was literally written all over his face, all those difficult choices that plagued him so much that you made the decision for him, gently reaching forward with your palm. He could touch it or he could step back. During the healing process even the tiniest step was important. You kept your eyes on Kaz, studying his graceful facial features with pleasure, and you couldn't ignore how handsome he was. Kaz could have had any girl or guy at the snap of his fingers, but he was so uptight and so caught up in his work that he didn't notice anyone around him. Or he didn't want to notice because of his obvious problem with touching.

— What were you looking for in the papers?

You tried to distract him, continuing to watch as his fingers slowly came close to yours. There was barely a millimeter of space between you, but even that sent a wave of heat through your body. You could feel the touch even so, though it never really happened.

— The list of investors. And the guest list at the anniversary party. I was asked to find some compromising information on an official from the Merchant Council, — Kaz looked embarrassed and twitched his lips guiltily, taking a step back as panic reached his lungs and cut off his oxygen.

— I can get you an invitation. If you agree to visit me again. There's an old hotel in the west side of the town. I rent a room under its green roof, the biggest one. If you crack the lock before I get there, after midnight, I'll be especially pleased. Do you want me to be pleased, Kaz?

You returned the previous minimal distance between you and leaned into Kaz's ear with a charming whisper, casually running your palm along his shoulder and chest, leaving tiny millimeters to the actual touch. You wanted to test your guess and see if he wanted you the same way, or if you just made up the fact that there was a spark between you.

You got the best answer when Kaz nodded and briefly touched your palm with a light kiss, like a true gentleman.

My Hogwarts House book recs

Okay, ever since some of my favorite booktubers made posts like these many a year ago, I always wanted to make a book rec list like this because I still genuinely do like the Hogwarts Houses. Enjoy!

Gryffindor

Graceling by Kristen Cashore - she walked so these new fantasy girlies could run, fantasy kingdom with assassin main character, the original ya high fantasy killer girlboss imo

A Game of Thrones by George RR Martin - all of the sympathetic leads are classic heroes (dany, jon, arya), adventure and politics and battle and dragons, nuanced outlooks on honor

The Nightingale by Kristin Hannah - ww2 novel, deals with the french resistance during the occupation, hit every spot in my cold black heart, emphasis on sisterhood and endurance

Pride and Prejudice by Jane Austen - what is bravery if not a broke woman telling a rich man to get a grip, og strong female lead overcoming many challenges, criticisms of polite society

Hufflepuff

Crave by Tracy Wolff - big on found family, paranormal romance shenanigans in a boarding school, somewhat satire, unserious and just very wholesome, steeped in nostalgia uwu

All My Rage by Sabaa Tahir - unapologetically written to heal and explore trauma, cathartic, wholesome and pure relationships, emphasis on self-growth and overcoming abuse and pain

The Stationery Shop by Marjan Kamali - historical, about the value of relationships in war and hardship, themes of growth and acceptance and promises, beautiful story

The Foxhole Court by Nora Sakavic - what happens when you let a bunch of mentally ill kids play a made up sport, angsty but feels like a big hug, contemporary fiction, just genius ok

Ravenclaw

The Atlas Six by Olivie Blake - very slytherclaw, philosophy and physics as the basis, dark academia urban fantasy, character-driven, multiple POVs, morally grey academics

Babel by RF Kuang - this book has been likened to a history textbook, by a nerd girlie for the nerd girlies, linguistics and languages, super well-researched, condemns colonization

Disorientation by Elain Hsieh Chou - witty and sharp narration and dialogue, set in academia and deals with east asian literature, satire and black comedy, explores racial fetishization

Lolita by Vladimir Nabokov - only a ravenclaw could appreciation its complexity, so many literary references, stylistically immaculate, lots of room to debate its message and themes

Slytherin

Vicious by VE Schwab - perfect moral quandaries demonstrated here, everyone is morally dark grey, supervillains, very angsty and also profound at times, dark academia

The Picture of Dorian Gray by Oscar Wilde - my man makes a deal with the devil for eternal youth and beauty, everyone here is morally dubious, murder and orgies and philosophy

Gone Girl by Gillian Flynn - exhausted woman does what she needs to do, female rage book, does some interesting things with pov, justified evil, amy dunne is insane and it's great

Iron Widow by Xiran Jay Zhao - tired chinese woman does what she needs to do and kills men, very unhinged queen behavior, ambition and god complexes, pacific rim but in china

when lana del rey said, "open me up; tell me you like it. fuck me to death. love me until i love myself," and when olivie blake wrote, "gideon felt unopened and raw, like he’d cracked his chest in two and presented the evidence for nico’s evaluation," and when micah nemerever wrote, "he wanted to break julian’s body open and move inside it alongside him, rib cages interlaced around a single heart."

Flowers [K. B]

Kaz Brekker x reader

word count: 8.4k

summary: some jealousy motivates Kaz to finally face how he feels about you

A/N: I have literally weeks writing this and I hope I got it right, I tried to write the reaction of jealousy as appropriate to Kaz as possible lmao. Also, when this Freddy photoshoot came out I just imagined. You'll find out later, I hope you enjoy it!

taglist: @rustyyyyspoonz @be-lla-vie @milkshake0 @ladespedidas

Kaz took a deep breath before opening the door, bracing himself for what he would face as he crossed into the next room, already a tremendous hubbub.

It was Inej's birthday and you had insisted on throwing her a celebration, something everyone else was excited about, because you thought that of all of you she was the most likely not to have had such a party. Well, actually the main candidate was Kaz but he would kill all of you when he found out that you had arranged a surprise for him.

You had decorated the room in The Slat and you had invited (threatened, rather) the members of The Dregs so that they would celebrate your friend and you also invited (to them, kindly) some girls from The Menagerie, with the security that if someone tried to touch them you would defend them. You also told the criminals that if they thought of bringing a gift they would make sure that it was not stolen, nor was it stained with blood, nor was it from the corpse of a dead person. And so far everything was perfect.

"Kaz!" he was greeted by Per Haskell, who had been playing cards at a table and already had a couple of drinks on him "Son, I admit that when you said you wanted to have a party I thought you were crazy, but this is great."

"Y/N wanted to do it, I didn't" he murmured sincerely and Per just laughed. Parties weren't really his thing, though he'd probably feel better after some alcohol. He looked for his usual group to get closer to them and not die from the anxiety that social situations generated in him.

He found five of his crows chatting and laughing at a table on which was an empty chair, which Kaz thought was surely for him.

"Look who decided to join the party" Nina mocked, looking at the black-haired boy with a smile.

"Happy birthday, Inej" he murmured politely, as he handed the girl a leather case containing a nice set of knives. Her eyes lit up as she thanked her friend and Kaz allowed himself to smile "Is anyone sitting here?"

"Y/N" replied Jesper, who had an arm around Wylan's shoulders "But she's been missing for a while."

"Maybe she's helping out in the kitchen," suggested Matthias, who was feeling more relaxed than usual.

"Huh-uh" Wylan denied, with a mischievous smile, while he took a sip of his drink "Look there" he exclaimed and his head pointed surreptitiously in one direction.

All eyes at the table looked at you at the bar and Kaz, who hadn't seen you before, was surprised by how jovial you looked. You had left your hair loose and you were wearing light-colored clothing, very different from the usual black, gray, or brown, along with ribbon adorning your hair, but the smile that this generated in the black-haired man was replaced by a frown upon noticing that you were smiling broadly towards another person. Towards a man.

"That girl is on fire" the Grisha mocked, quite proud, and the others made similar comments, between laughs.

"Who is that?" Kaz hissed, sounding angrier than he intended, at Inej, who was closest to him and most likely to know the answer due to your friendship.

“A new guy that Per hired, I thought you knew him. I heard that he comes from Shu Han”

At that moment he turned around and he could see the features that demonstrated that theory: tanned skin, slightly slanted eyes, and black hair. He wore a simple outfit, in very poor taste according to Kaz, and he couldn't have been more than 17 years old. He was just a brat who was too close to you.

Although he didn't say anything, you only needed to see the expression on his face to know that he wasn't happy, something that fortunately no one paid attention to, because they assumed that it was just a normal reaction in Kaz when seeing any kind of displays of affection.

"He's handsome," Jesper muttered, and Wylan turned to give him a pointed glare. "I mean, not like you, nobody's as handsome as you, but he… got his stuff."

Was he really handsome? Kaz didn't know if he was in a position to judge that, since he didn't even know if he was what someone would consider 'attractive'. That had never bothered him, of course, he was simply curious as to what the others might think. What could you think about, actually.

Most of them decided that the matter didn't deserve any more importance and they continued talking about other things, almost all of them logically related to Inej, however, he couldn't take his eyes off you and your peculiar company for even a second. He noticed you chuckled softly and when you did, he could see the guy across from you reach out to tuck a piece of your hair behind your ear; Kaz squeezed his cane to appease the urge to go do the same to the aforementioned neck.

Almost as if you felt the heavy gaze you looked in his direction and when your eyes met you smiled reflexively, making his heart race. You still chatted for a while, but your attention wasn't entirely on your new friend now that you were aware of Kaz in the great room. In due course you apologized to him and before saying goodbye he stroked your arm too confidently, promising that he would make sure to look for you later. After he left you practically ran to the table where your friends were.

"Y/N" Inej laughed, feeling you hug her from behind.

“How is the most beautiful birthday girl in the place doing?” you asked excitedly, kissing her on the top of the head and hearing her reply that everything was excellent “Oh, hello, Mr. Brekker. What a joy that you honor us with your presence” you joked as if you had barely noticed, and you were disappointed to see the unfriendly look he gave you.

“Who was the young man you were talking to?” Nina asked casually, while her boyfriend shook his head at how gossipy she was sometimes.

"Lior?" you muttered. So that was the name that should be written on the tombstone "It's huh... a new guy, he was thanking me for inviting him"

“I hope he doesn't get used to it,” Kaz said grudgingly. “Don't think there will be any more birthday parties. Much less with all these Dregs”

A collective groan was heard, alleging that the boss was very bitter and appealing to 'healthy coexistence', which amused you.

"That was my chair, shall I sit on your lap or shall we bring a new one?" you exclaimed, close to the man's ear. Kaz didn't expect that and it was obvious you didn't mean it, but he had to abruptly get up from his chair and walk away, leaving all of you stunned.

"What did you say to him?"

"Nothing! I just told him that I was sitting there, but I was kidding, I didn't want him to leave”

“That's how he is,” Inej said, with a touch of bitterness and a shrug. But you didn't take that so lightly, you hated that Kaz was mad at you because he made you feel so guilty, even if you didn't know what he was mad at. Maybe you had crossed some line? You weren't even going to! It had only been nonsense that had escaped your lips for the liquid value that you had ingested.

You ended up taking the chair that he had left empty and although you participated actively in the conversation you couldn't help but feel restless. Of course you didn't know that Kaz had left there to prevent you from noticing his cheeks flushed with fury at the scene he had seen and the way you had said the name of this Lior guy, a blush that only increased when he felt your breath so close to his skin and hear your soft voice.

First he had to calm down, why had that bothered him in the first place? Although he was aware of a certain protective relationship that he had towards all of you, it was not normal to feel that anger when you were talking to someone else, or when another man was touching you. Jesper was constantly holding your hand, once he had found you and Wylan cuddled up sleeping on a couch and you always challenged Matthias to fights you knew you weren't going to win and he just laughed it off, making no effort. But that was different, he had touched you… with other intentions. Kaz was no fool and he knew better than anyone that you were beautiful in every way, no matter how hard he tried to deny it. He maybe couldn't appreciate the masculine beauty, but, although it was not in his total interest, he could judge the feminine. So he was mad because a guy was interested in you? Was that what explained the heat that grew in his chest and that now he himself was torturing him? But why?

“Kaz Brekker?” said a voice behind him. He had gone outside to get some air and didn't recognize who had called him until he turned around. Today was his damn lucky day "My name is Lior, Per said that you are like the boss"

"I'm not like the boss" Kaz replied with total contempt "I'm the boss"

"Huh, yeah, sure. I'm sorry. I just wanted to introduce myself” Kaz looked at him without saying anything, obviously trying to make the other understand that he had no interest in meeting him, and the boy took the opportunity to clear his throat before speaking again “And… ask you if… a girl I was talking to is from your team. She mentioned you before, her name is Y/N”

Kaz didn't know what that Lior had in mind to go and ask him such a thing, but for a moment he believed in the Saints and thanked them for making him so stupid.

"And what does that interest you, silly boy?" he muttered. Lior was probably the same age as Kaz, but the black-haired man had the advantage of being a few inches taller, of having an imposing presence leaning on his cane, and of… well, being the fucking boss.

"In nothing, I just thought I'd ask you" replied Lior, visibly dismayed by the unexpected hostility of his new leader, and mistakenly thinking that he would fix something, he continued: "She's very kind and I wanted to get to know her better, I thought you could help me”

“You're here to steal, spy and obey orders, you're not here to meet girls, let alone someone like her. So I recommend you keep your distance and focus on the job, which is why we hired you”

and that the contrary had contained himself a little. For a moment he thought that Kaz took his job very, very seriously (it was partly true) so that's why he had been so annoyed at the suggestion of him looking for one of his close friends. He never knew that he was mad to hear that someone so vulgar wanted to befriend his Y/N.

"Kaz!" for a second he thought he was imagining your voice, but when you appeared a few seconds later he knew it wasn't like that "I was looking for you, you... Lior" you interrupted yourself, looking at the other young man who had paled a little "I see that you are already met"

"Yes, we already had the fortune" he answered with all the sarcasm existing in his body, although you didn't notice it.

"I was leaving, anyway"

“Wait, have this,” you said, handing the boy a piece of paper “It's a restaurant, Nina and I go there for breakfast all the time. If you ever want to join us, just say so” Your tone was so kind and your face so happy that Kaz was afraid he would start foaming at the mouth.

"Yes, I..." Lior didn't dare look at Kaz, who was watching him with murderous eyes "I'll think about it, bye"

"Bye," you replied, a little disappointed by his lack of effusiveness.

"You really want to make new friends," he snorted with inevitable scorn.

“Well yeah, my old friends run away from me,” you muttered, keeping your tone playful no matter how upset he was. Then you sighed and got a little more serious, “Listen, I know you hate parties and people, but I would really appreciate it if you were with us at the table. I'm sorry if I made you uncomfortable, but I did this to have a fun time and to make Inej happy. There is alcohol inside, if you don't like it, I can find you something better to prepare the drink you prefer but, please, stay even for a while"

His frown on him relaxed considerably as he watched your pleading eyes looking down at him but the unknown feeling towards the new guy grew like flames consuming an entire forest. You had told him where you used to go for breakfast, which meant you wanted to see him again.

“Only if you promise not to go out with that idiot” 

“With Lior? And why shouldn't I?

"I already told you. He's an idiot" he said simply and you laughed.

"And how do you know?"

"He looks like one"

"You're going to need a better reason than that and probably a bouquet to convince me otherwise," you muttered, totally sure that the latter was so ridiculous that it would only prove that you weren't going to change your mind. Lior wasn't the most handsome guy for you, that place was reserved for someone special, but you had decided that giving him a chance wasn't such a bad idea “Come on, don't be grumpy, and let's go in there. I got a cake and you don't want to miss it,” you said, starting to walk back inside, and after sighing Kaz followed you without question.

Once morning came the birthday cheer was gone and things went on as usual; going to the Crow club, keeping order at The Barrel, odd jobs, and a couple of unfortunate fights.

In the span of a week you had already seen Lior at least three times, and he always seemed to be conveniently close to various places you frequented. Being with him was nice and little by little you were getting used to his company, the only thing that seemed too strange to you was that every time Kaz appeared in the same place as you he said goodbye and left immediately before your boss could see it. You assumed he was just afraid of him, like most people, and you didn't say anything.

Suddenly you began to think that you had hardly seen the man in those days and you wondered if he was attending to your basic needs since you had hardly seen him go to the kitchen of the place for the food that you prepared. Sometimes loaves of bread would disappear, but that was Fahey's trademark.

"You are listening?" asked Lior, who was in front of you at a betting table and had brought you out of your musings. You were taking a break at the club and again he was hanging around so you thought about having a drink but right now you only remembered the beginning of what he had been saying to you so you couldn't lie to him even if you wanted to. You just smiled embarrassedly in response, making him laugh. "Too much to think about?"

"No, none of that. I was only gone for a moment"

"Well," he started to say, with what you'd already recognized as a flirtatious smile, "I hope I can find you when that happens."

You were going to answer something when you heard a fight near you. A couple of drunks had a disagreement over who had won the game and they thought the most effective way to settle it was beating. You quickly got up from your chair to separate them and had to dodge the fists several times, having no luck a couple of times. Lior was about to jump in to help you when suddenly one of the men fell to the ground with a thud. Everyone in the room looked in the direction of whoever had knocked him down and there was the only logical option.

"If you guys want to beat up each other like animals, do it outside my establishment," was all Kaz said. You were still holding the other man back, but he didn't put up much of a fight when he and his friend were escorted outside. You shook off your jacket and rubbed your arm where one of them had managed to hit you.

This time Lior couldn't escape the boss's eyes and Kaz felt his blood boil again at the sight of his face. He still didn't fully understand the nature of his feelings, but it was clear to him that he didn't want you near that boy after a couple of days when you no longer stopped by to say hello in his office or struck up a conversation with him. Although, indeed, he was never the most sociable now he wanted to make an effort to spend more time with you, but he had difficulties finding ways to do it.

"Damn drunks, huh?"

“Did they hurt you?" he asked quietly. You looked up in confusion and took a moment to process it. Was Kaz worrying about you?

I mean, he cared for all of you during missions and times of real danger, but on those occasions he just saw to it that you stayed alive and continued his duties. It was weird hearing something verbal.

"Nothing I can't handle," you replied, with a challenging little smile.

“I want you to help me with some things. Unless you're busy…”

Saying this he looked at the skinny boy behind you, who looked away immediately. If there was one thing to be recognized about Kaz, it was how he never showed fragility and therefore forced others to surrender first.

"It's that urgent?"

"So I would say"

Now it was you who held his gaze for a few seconds, looking for something implicit that would reveal why he now wanted to take you to another place, but there was nothing. There was only neutrality in those beautiful blue eyes.

“Lior, I have to go. Some work" you exclaimed and he internally celebrated the apparent victory that you had chosen him over someone else, although the satisfaction was short-lived when he saw that you took a step and planted a kiss on the boy's cheek.

Kaz thought about how he wasn't mad at you, but at him, and it suddenly dawned on him that he was actually jealous. That was what he was feeling like a plague.

Jealousy.

You noticed the radical change in his attitude when he didn't even look at you and began to walk quickly down the hall, so you had to speed up to keep up with him. Worst of all, he didn't really have anything he needed help with, he'd just said it so you wouldn't be with the Shu boy, so when you set foot in the office he was stunned.

“I want you to help me sort these documents by date,” he said, extending in your direction a huge folder that he found in a drawer that only contained papers from the previous year. It was not necessary to order that because he had already used it, but he preferred to ask you that than look completely dumb. 

"And the magic words?"

"Abracadabra?" he said sarcastically, but he sighed heavily at the sight of your crossed arms and your clear intentions of not taking the folder until he said so "Please, Y/N"

“Do you see how cute you sound being a polite child?” you exclaimed to annoy him and before another complaint you took the things and placed yourself in an empty end of the desk.

Kaz watched you from time to time, intent on your task, your lips slightly pouting, and each time he did he felt his heart swell. 

What was happening to him? he was afraid that he would find out and not like the answer.

You finished in record time and he let you off to wherever you wanted to go through the door, a little worried that it was with the new kid. As soon as you left he took his hat, coat, and cane to go directly to The Slat, hoping that the person he needed was there.

He knocked on the door a couple of times, but no one answered and for a moment he felt desperate. He badly needed the help of the one person he knew who wouldn't judge him for asking obvious questions and also had enough discretion so that others wouldn't realize he suspected he had feelings for you. He suspected. 

He was going to make one last attempt which wasn't necessary as the door swung open as he raised his fist, revealing a small figure with loose hair and less weaponry than usual.

“Kaz?”

"Hello, Inej"

You were sitting in the dining room of your shared house, pouring yourself some coffee in a chipped cup hoping it was strong enough to wake you up, while you racked your brains trying to solve the mystery that had been bothering you for a few days ago. 

Turns out, after the drunken brawl incident and helping Kaz, you had gone to rest, falling asleep on the bed almost immediately. No problem with that. The strange thing was that the next day you had woken up with a bouquet of wildflowers of various colors resting on the nightstand. The first time you thought that you had put it there and you didn’t remember it, so you just sniffed it with pleasure and placed it in a glass of water. Normal day, you went to sleep at the end and the next morning there it was again. You knew that it was not the one you had collected the day before because these were in the glass. A little confused, you put the new flowers with the old ones and continued with your day, without imagining that the next morning things would repeat themselves. Three times in a row was already disturbing, so you made an effort to imagine who was the author of all this. If it was the girls, it was nice that they had such detail, and you could have even tolerated it from Jes, Wylan, or Matthias, but if it was an outsider then it was a worrying situation because it implied that a lunatic had been messing around to your room at night for a week straight. You made sure to lock your room and still, the flowers appeared there, as if it were a magic trick.

Was it Lior? Impossible, or you would have seen him come in in the morning or at night. Also, one day you had woken up earlier than usual and even that time the flowers were there.

"Bonjour" greeted an energetic Jesper, who had appeared still in nightwear, and ruffled your hair as he approached you "You don't look very lively"

"I am not a morning person," you said sipping your coffee.

One by one your other companions joined the morning coffee, Kaz being the last to arrive. It was funny how much 'morning drinks' could say about each of you: Inej drank coffee with some sugar, Jesper coffee with cream, Wylan drank tea, Matthias just milk, Nina hot chocolate and lastly you and Kaz shared a taste for the coffee bitter and very hot, so it was not a surprise that when he arrived you already had a cup for him.

“We're running low on supplies,” Matthias announced, pointing to the empty cupboard, to which you groaned.

None of you had any culinary skills, but since you were the least likely to give them food poisoning, they had all decided that you would be the designated cook, which included doing the shopping.

"I'll go to the market later"

“I will accompany you,” Kaz said, so fast that they all fell silent and turned their heads to look at him. Observing the situation, he adopted a defensive attitude "I need to buy some things too and I have to make sure Y/N isn't wasting money"

“Sure, my specialty is diverting resources by saying I bought potatoes,” you joked, rolling your eyes. “If you want to go with me, let's go now. At this time there are fewer people" you explained and he nodded. You just finished drinking your coffee and grabbed a large bag in which you loaded the food before leaving the building.

As soon as you got out, they started speculating.

"Why did Kaz want to go?"

"I wonder the same thing"

“Maybe he really did have things to buy,” Matthias said, and though Nina heard her black-haired man's racing heart, she decided not to contradict anyone. Inej looked at her almost as if she read her thoughts and they both shared a knowing look without saying anything.

On the way to the market, neither of you spoke, but he noted that you were right when you said that the city was quieter at that time, probably because life in The Barrel really began when night fell.

The market was quite a distance away, but he put up with it like a champ, so when you got there you were very hungry and you assumed he was the same.

“Eat,” you said suddenly, extending to Kaz a piece of bread with jam inside that you loved to buy when you went there “I pay for this with my own money, by the way. So you don't accuse me of being a thief."

"You are a thief," he reminded you, grimacing and taking a bite of the piece of food. It was sweet, freshly made, and melted in the mouth.

You two walked for a couple of blocks, still in silence, while you were choosing food. You were wondering what those 'things' were that Kaz needed to buy and when he would ask you to make a detour to a store, but the moment didn’t seem to come, which made you suspect that there was really no such reason and it was just an excuse. You were curious as to what he might be looking for by doing that and you let your mind wander to possible answers, from when he was looking for advice he didn't yet know how to ask to when he just needed some fresh air and jumped at the chance, without you being involved in any way.

Kaz, for his part, was entering a crisis. He wanted to talk to you and have a nice time but he didn't know how to do it. He had thought that, once you were alone, the words would sprout by themselves and then you would continue the conversation, however, he had limited himself to watching you feel the fruits to decide which was ripe and which was not.

“Do you think she really likes that boy?”

“I don't know” Inej had told him “But I don't think that's the case either” she continued and her friend nodded her head “I think what she likes about him is that she listens to her and keeps her company; he is attentive to her. You could start there."

"Are you hungry?"

"A little, nothing that will kill me"

"Let's have breakfast" he murmured. Did it sound like an order? Yes, but he hoped to get a little better with practice.

"Only if you pay" you answered with a mischievous smile.

He led you to a small establishment you'd never been to, which he probably chose because he was all alone, and you sat at one of the little tables with worn cushioned chairs, facing each other. The question you wanted to ask him was on the tip of your tongue, but you were still working up the courage to gesticulate it.

Kaz ordered some eggs and bacon and since you were craving something sweet you ordered some fried dough stuffed with currants, on the recommendation of your companion, and both of you ordered the second coffee of the day.

"And what is?"

"What is what?"

“The deal” you exclaimed, as if it were obvious, but he didn't seem to understand “I suppose if we came here alone it's so you can ask me to make a deal. Steal, spy on someone right?"

He was stunned for a moment. Didn't you notice the effort he was making? Was that your idea of his actions? Honestly he couldn't blame you, because, probably, in other circumstances that would have been the case to isolate himself from the others in the group. But not now.

"There's nothing" he replied, but you narrowed your eyes to let him know that you didn't believe him "No tricks, I promise"

"So does that mean I'm the boss's favorite?" you asked with mock enthusiasm, deciding to play with his patience a bit.

"Shut up or you're going to lose your privileges," he countered. It felt good to tease you, have a little fun for a change.

You were sitting there until the mass of people that gathered at noon allowed it and then you returned to The Slat with your hands loaded with bags that at some point in the day you would place in the cupboard, not wanting to do it immediately so as not to spoil the atmosphere of peace between you and Kaz, who hadn't left you yet.

“Anything in particular you want for lunch?” you asked, moving closer to him. It was just the two of you in the kitchen and the rest of the place was relatively quiet. "You know, to offer you privileges to threaten you with later."

He almost laughed, but the suppressed smile you saw on him was enough to make you want to see more. You and Kaz were friends (or so you hoped, at least) but there weren't many memories between you like that, almost all of them were related to work or at the club or with one of you saving the other's ass. You had only once helped him heal a wound, just because he couldn't reach that section of his back and then he justified himself by asking for your help by saying that it had been partly your fault, which was totally false but that you weren't going to argue with him if that made him feel less embarrassed.

It felt different, like something more relaxed, soft… more domestic. You had just returned from shopping together, you had eaten an exquisite breakfast that he paid for and now you were asking him what he wanted you to prepare for him to eat… were you a couple of criminals or a newly married couple? 

The thought of a marriage with Kaz warmed your cheeks and you wanted to laugh at how absurd that would be.

"Whatever you want, anyway, my stomach already has enough defenses against indigestion" upon hearing this you barely pushed his arm, but as soon as you did, your eyes widened as you remembered who you were talking to, although to your surprise he didn’t complain.

"I'll make pea soup," you informed. You knew it was one of his favorites because of the second course he always served himself when he thought no one else was looking. You did, you looked at Kaz Brekker all the time.

He just hummed in the affirmative and left without another word.

During the course of the morning you did more activities, but you couldn't stop thinking about him and the walk they had taken together. Suddenly you would surprise yourself remembering his expressions at your bad jokes and smiling like a fool when you thought about how beautiful his eyes looked with the brightness of that morning.

Kaz ever had a partner? Did he like someone? Was he even interested in those things? You didn't know, but it wasn't a crime to have some admiration for him either, right? Jeez, he'd only been a little nice to you, why were you so excited about that?

You had never thought about whether you had feelings for him, beyond the initial working relationship that had now become a kind of family bond, although now you were reflecting on it.

And later, when his expression brightened from the plate of food you served him, you felt that it might not be such a wrong idea.

I like your smile.

It was the only note that had been left with the flowers, which you had been receiving for quite some time. Always without fail, always on the nightstand in your room.

Although you were worried about who this "secret admirer" might be, your curiosity was greater and you had been careful not to mention anything to your friends. Well, it was really just the boys, because Inej and Nina knew a lot about things, since the jobs to steal were scarce lately, you guys had more time to do anything else. 

Kaz trusted any of you so he let you roam the Crow club as you please, but also to check that things were in order: no scammers, control fights, check that the girls weren't harassed by the clients, things like that.

That night the club was short of a barista, so you and Wylan had split the responsibility for it by taking turns meeting the demand.

He was more skilled than you at making cocktails, perhaps due to his chemical mixing skills, but still the boy was patient with you and he only laughed when you messed up.

"I prefer this to be like poor Jes” you muttered amused, because from where you could see the boy sitting next to the door playing with one of his guns, obviously annoyed because Kaz had ordered him to stay away from the gaming tables. You thought that Wylan also had something to do with it, because they both hated that it fueled their gambling problem "But I need to distract myself a bit, will you be okay by yourself?" you asked. You knew he would be fine so you walked out of the bar without much guilt.

You were taking a walk among the tables when you felt someone grab your arm and you turned defensively. It was Lior, who you had already served too many drinks for a person of his size and now he was suffering the consequences. After serving perhaps the fifth in a row you got a little worried, but you didn't want to intervene because you thought it was none of your business. As long as he paid them, you had no objection.

"Y/N," he said, drawing out his tongue. Several of the Dregs were standing around him, apparently also drinking some beer, and were watching you curiously. "Sit with us," he ordered, patting an unoccupied chair next to him.

You didn't want to be rude and tried to say you were working now, but he was insistent until you agreed to sit down for a few minutes. The other men weren't chatting with you, probably as a matter of avoiding trouble with the boss, but Lior was particularly eloquent. As an effect of alcohol, he didn’t measure distances and sometimes he would spill some beer near you or invade your personal space to talk to you. You let it go because you didn't want to cause a conflict and, to a certain extent, it was tolerable.

But after a while, his behavior became more annoying. He was holding your hand and even tried to stroke your leg, but what made you jump back was when he leaned in for a kiss. Luckily you had been faster.

"What the hell is wrong with you?" you asked flustered, drawing the attention of the others at the table.

"Oh, don't pretend you don't want to" he replied. His body leaned towards you again and you moved further away, which made him annoyed "I've seen how you look at me"

"Sorry, what?"

"You want me," he stated. You were suddenly startled by the confidence with which he was saying that and how deep his voice sounded, like that of a wild animal. And, from his perception, you played the role of the prey.

"That’s not true, fuck you," you spat, getting up from your chair, but you were stopped by his strong grip on your forearm.

"Come on, Y/N. You like me and I like you, stop making yourself difficult"

"I told you no" you exclaimed with a trembling voice. The problem wasn't whether or not you could face the boy, but that he had caught you off guard. Although it was true that you liked him a little, you weren't going to allow him to want to kiss you just like that, to say the least… because judging from his insistence, you doubted that a kiss was all he wanted.

You almost screamed as he pulled you towards him and this caught the attention of several people around you, but before you could do anything an object came between you and threw Lior back into his chair in one movement.

It was a cane.

It was clear that by this point several tables had already stopped their games to pay attention to the menacing expression of the bastard with the barrel hovering over a drunken kid imprisoned in his chair.

"No means no" Kaz said slowly and quite close to the challenging face of the opponent. It was almost like he had been watching you the whole time, waiting for the perfect moment to intervene, or maybe he just had a sixth sense that would alert him when one of his crows was in trouble.

He thought that this would be enough to scare the boy and withdrew the cane from his chest, intending to turn around to check on your well-being, but he did not count on the fact that Lior's drunken state also gave him the courage to dare to jump in to hit him. The black-haired man's instinct made him turn around just in time to stop the drunk and throw him face-first against the table, holding his folded hand against his back.

If there was anyone left who hadn't noticed the discussion that was enough for them to notice, including Wylan, Jesper, and Matthias who had risen from their places to intervene if necessary. But it probably wouldn't. Kaz was furious.

You saw him whisper in the boy's ear and you knew it was a threat from the expression on his face, in addition to the groan of pain that the youngest emanated when Kaz mercilessly pulled his arm.

He remained in that position for a moment, completely blinded by anger, enjoying the cries of pain the shu boy was making.

"Get him out of here" Kaz ordered The Dregs, who had been watching everything in silence. You also didn't get to hear what he said to one of them, but the chances of Lior waking up the next day in pain from a beating were pretty high.

As you backed away you collided with a huge body and calmed down to see that it was Matthias, asking if you were okay. It didn't take long for all the men of the team to gather around you to ask what had happened, but you were still a little stunned to answer coherently.

Even so, you looked for Kaz's gaze just to realize him and he didn't look angry, but worried and his eyes were in charge of communicating everything that his mouth didn't. Somehow you quietly reassured him too, but he couldn't bear to see the glitter that threatened to turn to tears.

"Thank you" you managed to whisper, still a little nervous.

“Take the night off,” the black-haired man murmured, again sounding more like an order than a suggestion. “Walk her to The Slat, Jesper. Matthias, stay at the door”

The three of them returned to their respective posts and for a moment you thought that Kaz was also going to accompany you, but when you looked back he was already rushing with a firm step towards the door where the rest of his men had left.

Once you were in your room, and Jesper made sure for the thousandth time that you were okay, the feeling of discomfort eased considerably, but you noticed the bruise already beginning to form on your forearm from the man's grip.

What had happened to him? He had always been kind to you and respectful... you didn't even think that he would behave like that with you. You were disgusted and even scared by how quickly things had happened, but you were infinitely grateful that Kaz had come like a guardian angel to help you. You probably could have handled that on your own, however, the shock of receiving that kind of treatment from a person you were beginning to trust and even care for was what put you at a disadvantage.

You struggled a lot to fall asleep, because a part of you felt very hurt and sad to think that you didn’t deserve to have sincere love, but one where they only wanted you for physical matters.

Also, the flowers didn't arrive that morning.

When you finally got out of bed you were having trouble concentrating on anything and Nina had to take care of breakfast because you were too sensitive to do anything. This didn’t go unnoticed and everyone insisted that you rest a little more, but when Kaz arrived and realized the situation he didn’t wait to take action on the matter.

“We’re going out,” he said, when he finally intercepted you alone in the kitchen area, even though you weren't in much of a mood at all.

"A job?"

"A walk" he corrected you. You looked confused but didn't say anything and when it was time to leave The Slat you realized that Kaz wasn't talking about hanging out in a group, but just the two of you.

You didn't know where he was taking you, yet the road was as silent as usual. He watched you out of the corner of his eye just to see if your features changed in any way with the landscape, the aromas, or the morning breeze, but he felt a little disappointed when he noticed that your expression was still serious and even a little sad.

He wished he had taken more time with Lior last night.

"He won't bother you again" when he remembered that, he felt the need to let you know that now you could rest easy, and that you know that he himself had taken care of dealing with the matter.

"I don't doubt it," you said, letting out a bitter laugh. You knew what Kaz was capable of when he was angry. "It's just... I feel silly."

"Did you love him?" the man asked. You had already arrived at the place where he wanted to take you in the first place: it was a small meadow, with a lonely bench and too much life to be in the sad and gloomy Ketterdam. It was like finding a little piece of heaven on earth.

“Love him? By God, no, of course not. It was nice to be with him, but… talking about love is too strong. He was just an idiot”

"I'm sorry this has happened" he exclaimed, a little calmer after hearing your negative words about the other man, and at the same time the fact that you were alone gave him a little more confidence to say what he was thinking without being judged, trying to make you realize that he really cared about you.

"It's okay" you smiled to reassure him. He was going to say something else when a purple stain caught his attention under the sleeve of your dress that you had already risked up to the biceps. The night before he didn't notice that the boy had hurt you when he struggled and at that moment his blood boiled with anger "It's nice"

"What?"

"The place," you said, looking everywhere; the slightly gray sky, the birds flying around, the flowers growing next to your feet, and Kaz right in front of you. All of that made up the beauty you were talking about. "Why did you bring me here?"

"I thought maybe you needed to calm down a bit"

"Then you're a good friend," you said softly. Kaz couldn't remember anyone using that term with as much fondness filtered into their voices as you just did.

Friends. You were friends, you loved him at least a little.

"I hope so. I don't have much practice” he confessed and you smiled tenderly. Although you wanted to keep seeing Kaz, something in you forced you to look at the floor, as if there was something there calling you.

The flowers… were those flowers. You could recognize them after receiving them for days and keeping them fresh in the vase: there were the yellow ones and the lilac ones, both with small petals and a brown center.

You paused for a moment to make sure you weren't misreading or confusing things, but when you knelt down to pick up a cluster you knew for a fact that your theory was correct.

"What a curious thing"

"The flowers?" he asked, trying to sound as calm as possible. Even though you couldn't see his face, you somehow knew he was frowning.

“I've been getting exactly these kinds of flowers every weekday for a while now,” you said, getting up and showing Kaz the plants. “The stranger places them on my nightstand before I wake up, every time, without fail. Except for today"

"Maybe I wanted you to come to see them in person"

You froze in place, not expecting such a quick confession from him, and he looked at your face for a reaction. You were still holding the cluster in your hand and you unconsciously squeezed it hard.

In a panic you tried to find another interpretation of his words that didn’t imply the fact that he was the author of those signs of love, but you couldn’t find it. And from the man's slightly embarrassed face, you assumed that was true.

But the worst thing about it was the existence of the note that had kept you tossing and turning the day you received it. I like your smile. Kaz had written that too?

"So... it was you"

"Who did you have in mind?" he asked, a bit defensive, and you smiled, shaking your head.

“No one, I didn’t imagine who it could be. Honestly, at first, it scared me to think that someone was stalking me” you said sincerely. You looked at the bouquet of flowers again and noticed that some were withered, thinking that Kaz probably always chose the prettiest ones to take with you. You fell silent, not of your choice, but because he wasn't saying anything, and then you closed the distance between you by taking a small step forward, still respecting his personal space but enough to make the conversation intimate. “Why did you do that?”

Words were never Kaz's strong suit and he felt his throat tighten as he tried to answer you. What could I tell you about that? Did he himself have a coherent reason for doing that?

He thought you were going to get mad at his silence, but you smiled tenderly because, although he didn't realize it, once again his eyes had been in charge of telling you everything he was keeping quiet about.

"I like them a lot" you spoke again. If he wasn't ready to tell you, you weren't going to push him "I put them in a vase every day and when they're withered I put them in a box" you confessed. Fearing rejection, you lowered your hand to his, took it for a moment to place it higher, and then placed your own flowers in his hand. He held them tremblingly "Calm down, I'm not going to tell anyone"

"Tell them what?"

"I'm the boss’s favorite" you joked and a knot formed in Kaz's stomach when he saw that your eyes dropped for a second to his lips and you licked yours, perhaps unconsciously. You pulled away from him because you thought he might be uncomfortable with the closeness and instead, you left him wanting to have been in that position a little longer “Do you want us to sit here? I like to watch the birds”

He ignored you and a few minutes later you two were sitting next to each other, still saying nothing. Kaz was looking at you out of the corner of his eye and he thought he couldn't be prouder that your sad expression was gone.

And how was I to be? If you had just discovered that you had the sympathy of the man you admired most in all of Kerch.

"You were right," he spoke suddenly, snapping you out of your thoughts about what it would feel like to be a bird and be able to fly.

"About what?"

"You're my favorite. As a person. You are my favorite person” he managed to say. His look from him was sweet and sincere "And I like to see you smile"

"You already told me," you said, trying to suppress a smile and feeling how the blood rose to your cheeks. It took you a moment to dare to say what you were thinking. “I appreciate you, Kaz. I mean it very seriously."

You two stayed there for what seemed like hours and just enjoyed each other's quiet company, the sound of the wind, and the sight of the place. You looked at the horizon and he watched you covertly, thinking about everything he would be able to do to keep you out of the dangers of the world and what he had not realized until the night before when your integrity was threatened. 

One of your knees collided with his and Kaz, instead of pulling away from him, moved his knee slightly to rub against yours.

That day a silent pact had been sealed between you. He loved you and so did you.

No more words were necessary. Just lots of flowers.

The Introduction of Mrs. Lecter

Hannibal lecter x reader

Word count: 3864

Warnings: slight mention of unrequited love

Will Graham wouldn’t have ever guessed that Hannibal Lecter was married. Not once did he mention a wife or wear a piece of metal around his finger. So imagine his shock and confusion when he steps into Hannibal’s office only to see him dancing with a woman he’s never seen before. Will stood in silence at the door, watching the couple glide around the room like fairies. It wasn’t until Hannibal spun the pretty woman that they stopped.

“Will, I wasn’t expecting to see you here.”

Hannibal’s voice caused Will to cut off his staring from the pretty lady and look at Hannibal instead. “I didn’t know you were busy, I should’ve called.” Will felt awkward, he had just walked into an intimate moment between Hannibal and this mystery woman. “Nonsense darling, I just came for an impromptu visit, come sit, I believe there’s enough lunch for all three of us.” Her voice surprised Will. He looked at her again only to see the sugary smile she was offering him. “Will meet my wife, (y/n). (Y/n), meet my close friend and colleague, Will.”

The introduction only made her smile brighter and she turned to look up at Hannibal, softly saying something that caused the man to smile. Will observed the couple together, he thought it was odd to see Hannibal as such a caring husband. Hannibal’s hand was splayed over the small of his wife’s back as she stepped forward to greet Will fully. He couldn’t hair her even if he tried. Will made his way into the office and sat in front of Hannibal’s desk, beside (y/n). Now that he was closer, he could see that she didn’t carry the same amount of age that Hannibal did. No, she was more youthful and her face held the same type of innocence that Abigail’s held.

“I-I didn’t know Hannibal was married, he doesn’t wear a ring or anything.” The words left Will’s mouth before he couldn’t even comprehend what was happening. (Y/n) turned to look at him, her mouth stuffed with food that hadn’t been chewed yet, it made her look like a chipmunk. Hannibal also stopped his actions, looking up at Will before his hands went to his neck and pulled out a silver chain with a wedding band on it. “I didn’t want to scratch up my ring or lose it. I find it more practical to wear it as a necklace in case of any violent patients.” Hannibal’s voice was soothing and accented as he spoke to Will. His voice held no offence to his question.

(Y/n) looked at Will then glanced to his plate, he hadn’t touched his food yet, a small frown placed itself on her face before disappearing. This didn’t go unnoticed by Hannibal as he subtly gestured to Will to eat. A while after they’d eaten and shared some stories, the three lounged around in the office. Will sitting across from Hannibal and (y/n) who had her feet in his lap, the glossy red heeled boots she was wearing long abandoned. They drank some white wine at the request of Hannibal and it was now that Will let down his walls and fully took in Hannibal’s wife. He would call her pretty but that would be an

understatement, she was stunning. The type of beauty that inspired writers and the muse for artists all around the world.

She was different from Hannibal though. While he was more clean and neat, she was classy and old timey. At this moment though, she seemed younger than she was, dressed in a black silk skirt and a red corset top that was topped off with a black leather jacket now strewn over Hannibal's chair. A small cross necklace adorned her neck and big gothic earrings. She looked like a teenage girl's vampire dream. From their earlier conversations, Will had learnt that (Y/n) was an English teacher at a local highschool. Hannibal informed him further by stating that she also writes books.

Seeing them together brought Will to reality, he could never be her. No matter how much he tried, Will would never fit and flow with Hannibal like she does. They’re two different rivers that merge together at one end. One where you can’t tell where it starts and ends. If Hannibal was the moon then she was his stars. Will looked away from the couple for a few seconds, their loving glances only causing pain in his heart. Their night ended with (y/n) hugging Will goodbye and making him promise to bring Winston next time. He complied before giving the couple a smile and driving off to his isolated home in wolf trap. It was a long drive and the night sky had set long before his departure.

Back in Baltimore, Hannibal was picking up papers and organizing them while his wife put on her boots and jacket. By the time she was done, Hannibal had finished organizing the papers and turned to her, offering his arm for her to grasp onto before leaving the building. They are a couple that fit well together. It was like the universe had fated them to be together and created them from the same particles. The following morning Hannibal followed his daily routine of waking up, making breakfast, waking up (y/n), eating, getting ready and then heading off for the day with a soft kiss pressed to the lips. Today he was starting the day by helping Jack with a new body, one that he had put there two nights prior. A shrine for his beautiful wife, her writing had always inspired him. Just like how he was the muse for most of her characters, she was the muse for his murders.

Hannibal remembers the first time he met (y/n). It was many years ago now in Portland. He was there on business and she was there with her friends. A graduation trip to celebrate their masters. The two had bumped into each other when they went to grab the same book. Her soft shy eyes staring up to his predator ones. He knew he wanted her then and had her. In his care and in this relationship, (y/n) grew from being a bunny to being a fox. Cunning and smart just like he was, on par with him.

Snapping from his thoughts, Hannibal turned his attention fully to Jack who was still speaking of the body. From his peripheral vision, he could see Beverly studying something that she picked up from the ground. For a moment he prayed that it wasn’t a picture of him and his wife. Hannibal tried everything to keep her away from all of this but unfortunately that one picture had to fall out of his wallet at this moment and land into the hands of a very inquisitive Beverly Katz.

Beverly looked at Hannibal with a questioning look and he knew there and then that the small picture she was holding was the one from a dinner party hosted by his in-laws.

There was no doubt that it was the picture of him nosing her neck as she smiled for the camera. Hannibal sighed internally before focusing everything back on Jack. Will saw the picture that Bev picked up, she gestured to him with a questioning look and he just shrugged back, not wanting to talk about (y/n) without her or Hannibal’s permission. It was after that they were done discussing that Hannibal was cornered by Beverly. She asked him questions about the “pretty woman in the picture.” “That pretty woman is the lady I’m married to.” His answer shocked Beverly and gave him the opportunity to take the picture back from her hands. Unfortunately for him, Jack and Alana had overheard their conversation. Jack only raised an eyebrow in Alana’s direction who simply copied his action.

To say that Hannibal was stressed is an understatement, he was jittery on his way to pick his darling wife up from work and couldn’t stop shaking his leg. This was very out of character for him and (y/n) noticed. She always notices when her always calm husband is anxious. Slipping herself into the front seat, (y/n) turned to look at her husband and he looked right back at her. It was in these rare moments that Hannibal showed her his puppy eyes. “They know.” Hannibal’s voice was so soft that she barely heard him. Placing her hand on his cheek and leaning in to touch their foreheads together, (y/n) spoke, “it was about time, my love. You couldn’t keep me hidden forever.” She placed a small soft kiss to his lips and pulled back, offering the older man a sugary sweet smile.

Hannibal calmed down a bit before driving home, it was a nice drive, like it always is. Filled with conversation about each other’s day. It was when Hannibal was lounging in bed and watching his wife brush her hair that he told her about the events of today. He watched her as she brushed her hair out, concentrating in the heart shaped mirror. Hannibal told her that Beverly saw the picture and how Jack and Alana had overheard their conversation. At this, she paused before making eye contact with him through the mirror. (Y/n) got up and walked towards Hannibal and sat on the bed next to him, smiling gently before speaking, “You should introduce me properly Dr. Lecter. Now that everyone knows, I believe a feast is in order.” Her lips curled up into a sharp smile, her canines similar to Hannibal’s own. He reporicated the smile, the two of them looking like hunters who just caught their prey.

Pulling her down to him, Hannibal’s fingers played with her hair before they moved to the base of her neck, pulling his wife down in a passion filled kiss. Lipstick staining his lips and cheek. It was a bruising kiss but it was one filled with passion and love, not lust. Pulling apart, Hannibal pulled his wife to sleep on top of him, like a weighted blanket. He couldn’t sleep without the weight of her limbs on him, she was the exact same way. Not being able to sleep without the other was common. They slept peacefully that night, like they did every night.

In the morning, Hannibal was the first one to wake up. The sunlight filtered through the curtains and washed over his wife beautifully. It made her skin glow under the sun and she looked like a vision, one that he couldn’t pass up on drawing. Slowly untangling himself from her, Hannibal walked over to her glossy red and black vanity and picked up his drawing bed and pencil before sitting down and drawing her. A couple of hours passed before she stirred awake, her arm feeling for Hannibal’s body next to her and when she couldn’t find it, she sat up in panic, only to see the said man’s focus in his drawing pad.

Hannibal’s marron eyes looked up into his wife’s and he got up to place a kiss on her forehead before checking the clock. It was past their usual breakfast time. (Y/n) asked him if they could eat some pancakes this morning and Hannibal just laughed before rushing her two the washroom, following behind her closely. After their morning routine and a few sneaky kisses, Hannibal prepared pancakes for the two of them in the kitchen while (y/n) started on some marking.

“When do you plan to have that feast, darling?” At this, Hannibal looked up, stopping his actions momentarily before responding, “How about this weekend? You’re free and I won’t put a body out for them, making them free too.” She snorted at that. It caused Hannibal to smile. She always loved his dry sense of humour. Maybe that’s why she got along with Will that day. The rest of their breakfast passed in comfortable silence. The sound of piano music playing in the background kept them company.

After breakfast was when the talk of the great feast started. Hannibal wanted to get this done and over with while (y/n) wanted to drag it out as long as she possibly could. It wasn’t every day that you finally came out of the shadows. They talked about who to invite and who to not invite. Hannibal nearly lost it when his wife mentioned that she wanted to invite Freddie Lounds and Dr. Chilton. The rest of the list were just people from work. Bryce, Zeller, Katz, Crawford, Bloom and Graham along with Margot Verger. Hannibal looked towards his wife, her bright eyes gleamed with excitement and she had a barely concealed smile on her face.

He loved seeing her like this, it always made him so happy. Especially when she saw the bodies that he had dedicated to her. Seeing her like this was how she saw him when he read the poetry written about him. He took her left hand gently in his, the long acrylics she had slightly digging into his skin, Hannibal’s fingers went to play with her wedding band as she talked about the party. They were both excited, really excited.

It was on Monday that Hannibal gave out the invites to everyone. Will just nodded his head awkwardly and muttered something about coming while Alana just raised her eyebrow and nodded her head, Jack also mentioned that he would come and bring Bella along with Him. Beverly was the one most excited about the invitation. Hannibal gently smiled at her before going back to help Will.

At home, Hannibal’s darling wife was tearing apart their shared closet in order to look for the perfect outfits. Spoiler, she didn’t find one. (Y/n) was frustrated, everything she owned was pretty, yes, but it was not something that she would wear to a party in which they were the hosts. No, that simply wouldn’t do, so instead the young woman set out to her favourite seamstress. An old Russian lady who knew exactly what she wanted everything single time. Throwing on a coat and some gloves, (y/n) rushed to her car and drove off to Ludmila’s house. An hour or so later she reached the house. Parking her car nicely, the young woman exited her car before climbing up the stairs to knock on the door. However, before she could get a knock in, the door was pulled open by Ludmila who looked pleased to see her. The older woman pulled her in and ushered her to the couch and told her to sit while she got some tea and biscuits.

After their little snack and tea time was done, Ludmila pulled out her drawing pad and began to work on exactly what (y/n) had wanted. The younger woman was filled with so many ideas, the only downside was that she didn’t know how to sew. Ludmila thought that the woman was a secret vampire, not that she would ever tell her that. No, but her and her husband looked like they were Morticia and Gomez Addams. Always so happy over the grimmest of things. (Y/n) had left 3 hours later, after choosing the fabric of the dress and approving the design that she liked. It wasn’t a difficult job, she was just picky.

On the drive back home, she glanced at the time, realizing that it was far later than she thought and Hannibal must be home already, preparing dinner. Parking her cherry red mustang beside Hannibal’s car, (y/n) exited the car and grabbed the huge amount of bags that filled the back seats. She had stopped for a little errand that turned into a shopping trip, not that Hannibal minded. It was like the said man smelled her and opened the door. Hannibal glanced at the bags in her hands before grabbing them and greeting his wife with loving kisses on both of her cheeks.

“I see you did a little shopping today my dove, how was it?” Hannibal had retreated back to the kitchen by the time his question was done. His darling wife sat in front of him on a bar stool before sighing and answering, “Don't even ask, first I went to Ludmila’s for a dress I just commissioned and then what was supposed to be a short errant turned into a shopping haul. I grabbed you a few ties.” Hannibal smiled at his wife’s sentiment of always grabbing him something. No matter what she did or where she was, she always got him something.

For dinner the two dined on some lamb and pasta complimented by red wine and then followed by some lava cake. Hannibal had taken his wife’s feet in his lap and was rubbing them softly, the two conversed about the theme of the party and (y/n) had mentioned that she wanted something dark themed. Like always. Hannibal compiled since he thought that the decorations of the house were already very fitting. Changing them to a lighter theme would’ve been a hassle, one that he wasn’t up for. His wife’s silk nightgown brushed against his arm before she came and sat down in his lap, her hand caressing his hair. Hannibal purred like a cat, tilting his head back to lean into her touch more.

The day of the big feast was coming closer than ever, two weeks had already passed since the initial invite was sent out and the party was this weekend. Ludmila had dropped the dress off earlier today and (y/n) was in love. It was exactly what she wanted but somehow Ludmila’s work was better than something her imagination could ever conjure. Hannibal let a small gasp when he saw the dress, it was barely audible but his wife still heard it. She grinned, her canines showing slightly. It’s a beautiful dress. A deep red colour that was done in tulle and some satin fabric thrown in. The tulle wrapped around her shoulders in an off the shoulder fashion leaving her collarbones and shoulders exposed. The rest of the dress wrapped around her chest and waist in a corset look before falling behind her in a very gilded fashion. The under layer of the skirt was made from a deeper red satin and the tulle fell over it as another layer. The dress was a masterpiece. Hannibal couldn’t take his eyes away from the dress, his mind wandering to how she would look in it. The back was a lace up corset. One of his favourite looks on his wife.

The day of the party was something. Hannibal had taken a day off from work and consultation and focused solely on the food while (y/n) was cleaning and dusting the little trinkets they had lying around the house. Her favourite one was the skull named Steve, he was a fun guy. The flower arrangements had been done and set already and the only thing left to do was fix the trinkets a little before heading up and getting ready. The trinkets were fixed in no time and it was also when Hannibal was done cooking. (Y/n) peered into the kitchen before smiling at Hannibal and grabbing his hand and tugging the two of them upstairs. Once they were upstairs, the couple quickly shaded their clothes and hopped into the shower. It was a really relaxing shower, one that Hannibal had actually felt relaxed in. After getting out and drying themselves and lotioning. Hannibal helped his wife into her dress, lacing her up tightly while placing small kisses down her neck and shoulders. An act like this always made her smile, a soft gentle smile, like the one she had now.

(Y/n) had gone dark with her makeup, a siren eye look with a deep red lipstick to match her dress. Hannibal pulled out a choker that he had customized for his wife, it was diamond with rubies decorating it with matching earrings. She looked like a true vampire. Really. Hannibal had matched his wife in a dark black suit and a red tie. Anyone who saw them would definitely think that they’re immortal.

The first guest to come was Will who had bright Winston with him. Hannibal opened the door to let him in and lead him to sit down. Will asked for (y/n) but all Hannibal did was give him a secretive look. Will wondered what she looked like. He knew that she would look beautiful like always. The second to arrive were Alana and Margot, Hannibal knew that something was between them, they only proved it by showing up together. He invited them in and led them to Will who greeted them with an awkward smile. Alana returned the smile while Margot just nodded her head in his general direction.

Bryce, Zeller and Beverly showed up together. They looked wonderful and matched the dark theme. Hannibal could taste Beverly’s excitement and she could smell Will's awkwardness, which is why she rushed over to him as fast as she could. Freddrick Chilton and Freddie Lounds showed up together and Jack and his wife showed up not long after them. They were all here before the timing on the card, something that Hannibal appreciated.

Hannibal clapped his hands before gathering everyone’s attention and calling his wife down. (Y/n) knew how to make an entrance. She really did, she could hear all the gasps that were let out by the invited guests. The women in the party were absolutely in love with (y/n). They loved her dress and the way she carried herself. She was truly beautiful. Jack was just confused as to how he didn’t figure out that Hannibal was married. Nonetheless, he was happy to be here.

The party was in full swing with the guests conversing with (y/n) and marveling at how much of a genius she was. Hannibal admired his wife a lot. She was always there for him through everything. Her and Alana became fast and good friends by the end of the dinner and she loved Beverly and Will already. He loved seeing her like this, so free.

It was around 12am when everyone bid goodbye. Later than most of his parties. (Y/n) hugged all the guests goodbye before waving at them and closing the door. She sighed and Hannibal laughed. He led her upstairs this time and helped her out of her dress before setting a bath for the two of them. In the bath, Hannibal removed his already sleeping wife’s makeup. He could tell how exhausted she was and let her rest in the bathtub for 20 minutes before waking her up and pulling her out. Once she was all dried, he tugged on her sage coloured satin nightgown before tugging on his own night suit. Hannibal fell asleep comfortably that night. With his wife passed out on his chest and her leg thrown over his waist. He fell asleep comfortably and with a smile on his face. A smile that indicated that he was happy to introduce his wife to his world.

Tagging my babes: @chchchcheni @shawty-writes-a-little

𝗛𝗔𝗩𝗜𝗡𝗚 𝗔𝗡 𝗔𝗗𝗗𝗔𝗠𝗦 𝗕𝗢𝗬𝗙𝗥𝗜𝗘𝗡𝗗.

𝖕𝖆𝖎𝖗𝖎𝖓𝖌𝖘. jason todd x addams!male reader

𝖜𝖆𝖗𝖓𝖎𝖓𝖌𝖘. headcanon, typical addams behavior (disturbing thoughts and things, homicides, dark humor, using lethal weapons for fun, etc.), strong language, reader’s a badass vigilante, jason being a simp, dark romance (?), mention of homophobia, mention of torture and death, weapons, the addams family being wholesome, lots of pet names, gothic!reader

𝖈𝖔𝖑𝖔𝖗 𝖈𝖔𝖉𝖊. red as jason, purple as you.

𝖆𝖚𝖙𝖍𝖔𝖗’𝖘 𝖓𝖔𝖙𝖊. i was thinking of fics to write for jason and came up with this... hail, addams! also sais are like your main weapon here.

FEM ALIGNED DNI !!

Jason’s first meet with you was... amusing to say the least. It’s not much to consider eventful by, but to jason, it’s probably the most and first thing that will stuck with him until his second final breath.

You see, he was just casually walking through the streets of gotham in civilian clothes since he only got out of his apartment to buy some light breakfast, so he certainly did not expect to hear shouts and noises of harrassment coming from the alleyway early in the morning. They were spitting such nasty words that Jason grew the urge to investigate, finding at least five men surrounding you, who wasn’t even acknowledging their presence nor the things they said.

You were reading a book — which he was sure titled ‘how to kill a serial killer’ — with your back leaned on the concrete wall and completely ignoring their existence. Jason swears he saw a ‘I don’t give a fuck’ sentence above your head. However, knowing what the men are doing is harrassment and absolutely something that shouldn’t be turned a blind eye to, he decides to intervene and began walking towards the commotion.

Until one of the men abruptly grabbed the book you were reading to get your attention and also to make fun of you, or it.

Jason didn’t even realize what was happening when you quickly grabbed the man’s arm that took your book and twisted it into an odd angle, but he only took a second to process after hearing the man scream, accompanied by horrified noises from his friends.

You just casually caught the book that fell from his hand that you twisted before it could hit the ground, as if nothing happened.

“Touch my book again and I’ll kill you.”

You broke the man’s arm.

You fucking broke his arm just because he took your book.

And you didn’t care as you went to inspect if there were any scratches or dust on it. The others were now terrified because if you don’t hesitate to break someone’s arm for the sole and only reason of touching your book, then you sure as hell won’t hesitate doing more than that if they mess with you further. So, with one bark of “what?” coming from you immediately had them running away in fear, tail tucked between their legs.

Needless to say Jason was utterly amused, and didn’t waste a time to approach and check up on you even though he clearly saw the entire thing.

“Your book must be a treasure made of gold if you’re willing to hospitalize someone because of it.”

“All books are treasure no matter the genre, mr. stranger.”

“I’m Jason Todd.”

“(Y/n) Addams. Pleasure to meet you, beau.”

You and Jason started spending your time together almost every day since then; watching movies, eating at casual places, taking long night walks, going to mall, drinking coffees at the coffee shop he found around the city, just doing anything you two can.

Through those times spent with you, Jason found out you were oddly interested in various types of weapons, whether it be any kinds of knives, blades, guns, baseball bats, brass knuckles, swords, sais, and everything else. It actually surprised him, because you were well-mannered, collected and as graceful as a swan who didn’t look like you’d be into anything as vicious as weapons.

He viewed you more as a find-beauty-in-everything type of person and certainly not the quiet-but-dangerous type. Though, Jason didn’t mind as he could share his knowledge and interest in weapons with you without having to worry about seeming like a crazy obsessed person. He’s never been able to do that with anyone, so finding this out had him joyous and somewhat giddy.

You even knew about weapons that he didn’t know existed, and this is Jason Todd we’re talking about, but let’s just move on lol

After the entire incident, Jason brought you to his apartment — which already happened like, more than tenth times already — to show you his collectibles of weapons that were hidden in his room. You guessed that’s why you two never went there.

“Well, this is certainly entertaining. Your collections are beautiful, Jason. I’m not aware why you have to hide it from everyone else to see.”

“I’m pretty sure they’ll freak out and think of me like a psycho or something. I also didn’t show you ‘cause I didn’t want you to be stranged out.”

“All of humanity are strange and psychopaths in their own ways, beau. If there were such thing as normal, we wouldn’t be humans. You should be prideful of what you have, nevermind those who judges, pretending to be god.”

Jason smiles. You have mesmerizing ways to utter what’s in your mind, always speaking so confidently and gracefully yet casually. You present yourself in such elegant, exquisite, classy manners that no rich people could. It’s exactly what he enjoys about you.

You had also found out that, despite his bad boy energy and sort of reputation, Jason likes reading books, and they’re not even the genres that bad boys would take a glance at. It explains the shelf piled with books, some new and some old that almost seemed like he’s had them since he was a teen.

He also liked to read poetry, which you were ecstatic at, prompting you to lead him towards the library you always visit to read a book together. You both wordlessly agreed to do this on a regular basis whenever you meet up and want a quiet time among yourselves, knowing neither of you has to hold back your passion and love for books just to please the other.

Having similar tastes and interests immediately connected you and Jason, becoming somewhat inseparable whenever you’re together, allowing you to understand each other without words being uttered or exchanged. Jason was easily comfortable with you due to your maturity and the ability to understand things most people don’t, as you were with him.

The differences were clearly there — Jason was snarky, short-tempered, easy to anger, sort of flirtatious, and held extreme rage against all humanity, while you were more calm, collected, immensely patient, courteous, thoughtful, and almost the epitome of peace. But they’re the things that made you fit so perfectly well together like a puzzle rather than being hateful of each other.

It’s as if you’re what’s keeping him to the ground as he is of you.

Not like Jason knew, but when you’re an Addams, having dark, twisted sense of humor and being homicidal is pretty much inevitable. It isn’t a big surprise that you were one.

He often hears you muttering the most disturbing matters or thoughts, and at first he was concerned for your well-being and looked for signs that may have caused you to be... deranged, but as time passes by with no signs, he figured it’s just the way you are. Jason found it rather amusing anyway. Now, he’s just entertained whenever you utter them and would sometimes join you in on dark humor.

Getting to the family matters... You and Jason talked a lot about them — specifically yours only — and you told him about your unbelievably and deeply in love parents, adorable but deadly siblings, uncle Fester and the entire thing that happened, cousins, traditions, ancestors, and other more.

“—And my great-uncle Imar, he was buried alive. I remember being thrilled when mother and father first told me about him. Being buried alive is such a wonderful experience, my sister Wednesday has been digging a grave ever since I’ve mentioned it to her.”

“Oh, yeah? Being buried alive is cool and all, but I’m more of a great-aunt Calpurnia fan. Nobody can be as brave as her to dance naked in the town square and enslave the minister.”

“You have such great taste, Jason.”

“I know, (Y/n).”

He absolutely loves your ancestors and family.

When it comes to his, though... Jason was hesitant to tell you about them, specially Bruce, but also because of his secret identity slash alter ego as Red Hood. Telling you about his family means he would have to reveal all the secrets as well, including his death and resurrection, and that’s not something he’s ready to do just yet. You didn’t deserve to know all the horror he’s been through, knowing you and your compassion. He doesn’t want you to carry the burden of knowing his sufferings. But he also didn’t want you to think he doesn’t trust you by not telling his side of family.

However, all you ever did was look at him with soft eyes when you sensed his discomfort and reluctance, gently placing a comforting hand on his shoulder to squeeze it reassuringly.

“Never speak of something you are not ready yet to reveal, beau. It’s okay. You can tell me when you’re ready.”

Never had he met someone so understanding it made his heart swell. And as he stares into your beautiful (e/c) eyes, he couldn’t help but realize he’s utterly, deeply, in love with you.

Well, shit. That took a fucking turn.

What is he supposed to do now? You’ve been best friends for two years already, he doesn’t want to fucking ruin it with his feelings. And you’re not even the one to do romance, even if you witness your parents doing it everyday. It was just not in your vocabulary.

Jesus, Todd. Get yourself together.

And he fucking didn’t.

Jason didn’t get a hold of himself, so it ended up in him avoiding you without meaning to. He wasn’t ignoring you, but neither did he pay attention to you either. He stopped spending time with you frequently, making excuses that he has something important to do, putting on his Red Hood helmet and patrolling every day just to avoid your presence. The amount of time you spent together lessened and lessened, but you always updated or sent him messages to keep in check.

Until his phone abruptly stopped receiving notifications.

He knew it would happen one day, that you will get tired of him and realize he wasn’t worth your effort or time, but it happened quicker and earlier than Jason had expected, so he can’t help but feel his heart break as his throat burned. It’s his fault for neglecting you, but still, it hurt.

Five days passed since you stopped messaging him and Jason found himself still checking his phone just in case, only to drop it on his bed with a sigh when it doesn’t bring up a notification. He would go on patrol more frequently than he used to for distraction, just wanting to get you out of his mind, but it was causing him to be rough and reckless unconsciously— something that even his family noticed.

So, it was inevitable that he’d slip up and make a mistake on one of his missions.

Bruce was reluctant on sending him to this mission as it involved the Joker and Jason was practically in an unstable condition from how easily he snapped at people, but if he didn’t, another heated argument would have sparked between them again and he was already getting tired of that. However, when the Joker manages to taunt Jason and push his buttons enough to have him start fighting recklessly, Bruce knew he shouldn’t have assigned it to his second oldest son.

His recklessness and easy-to-anger attitude got himself a stab and bullet wound, quite deep ones that prevented him from moving any further. Joker was standing in front of him with a gun in hand and knife in the other, looking down on him just like he used to before. Just as Jason braced himself for the gun shot to fire, a sai suddenly came into view and stabbed Joker on his hand, making him drop the gun and yell out in pain.

Jason looked at where the sai came flying from and saw an unfamiliar yet somehow familiar figure with a mask calmly strotting towards him, one hand twirling a sai, presumably the pair of the one that was thrown. Pulling the weapon roughly out of the manic-laughing Joker’s hand, he yelled in pain before getting his gut kneed by the person, knocking the air out of his lungs. While Joker was busy coughing and wheezing, the person quickly takes out a smoke bomb and threw it on the ground to activate, black smoke filling the place.

Without being given the time to process, Jason was immediately pulled by the person to flee from the scene while the Killer Prince of Clown is distracted, confusion rising in his mind why this unknown person was helping him. However, all his questions were answered when the person took off their mask after settling him on a rooftop.

You didn’t hesitate to show him your face despite still being dressed in that vigilante suit of yours in all your glory. Even though you should be mad at him for ditching and eventually ghosting you, deep concern laced your expression as you examine his whole body, anger or resentment nowhere to be seen. You were just... completely you.

And then, it clicked in his mind — you already knew about him being Red Hood. He isn’t sure when or how long, it just clicked in his mind because of how oddly calm you were at the situation by hand. He also realizes you’ve been following him and had figured beforehand that there’s a chance he’d mess up, due to the fully stacked first aid kit laying on the side of the rooftop you brought him.

Silence filled the air as you began to treat his wounds, an excruciatingly painful process in which you had to gauge the bullet out of his skin that had him groaning and yelling in pain. After the bullet was gone, you immediately went onto cleaning the blood off and the wound, along with the one caused by knife, before wrapping almost exaggerated amount of bandages around his body.

Jason can’t stop staring at you the entire time you were treating him, his helmet resting on his side. (because it made him trouble breathing, totally not because he was planning something)

“You had me worry so much there, Jason. Why were you fighting that way? I was aware you can be reckless at times, but this is—”

He cut you off by pressing his lips on yours. Heart beating rapidly against his chest, worry clouded his mind at the possible rejection, but it quickly vanished when he felt you kissing back as gently and carefully as possible not to hurt his busted lip.

“I must say I was quite furious at you even though I practically saved your life, but this dissolves it.”

“I’m sorry, (Y/n).”

“Take me out on a date and I might give you forgiveness.”

That’s how you two ended up together, with Jason taking you on a peaceful and romantic date at a restaurant that matched your dark goth aesthetic.

Speaking of dark goth aesthetic, Jason absolutely adores your fashion sense. It’s a classic old-fashioned goth style that fit your body perfectly well, sometimes you’d also wear modern type, though he saw it only about four times. Silver and black rings can be seen adorning your fingers — nails painted black — all the time, along with bracelets wrapped around your wrists and gothic necklace on your neck. He found out they were given to you by your parents, who were quick to notice your interest in jewelries.

Once, Jason gave you a gothic style necklace with a letter ‘J’ pendant on your birthday and you’ve been wearing it ever since, replacing the one that you had. You never took it off, viewing the necklace as practically a proof that you belong to him as much as he belongs to you (it was a pair with his having the first initial of your name as pendant), and it actually became one of your treasure that no one aside from Jason is allowed to touch.

We all know what will happen if anyone tries to LMAO

Nothing really changed between you two after finally getting together, being both best friends and soulmates at the same time. The only thing changed was that he didn’t patrol alone now; he had you by his side always watching his back. Jason also found himself not worrying about your safety as much as he did before, as he knew you can handle any criminals from how badass, ass-kicking, well-trained vigilante you are.

Though, since you got together, the all black clothing and aesthetic of yours seems to mix with one certain color; red. He finds it in most random things — your bookmark, one of your accessories, one of your long sleeved button-up shirts, one of your weapons; it’s just anywhere in your belongings even though black still covered the majority of them.

“Hey, baby?”

“Yes, mon amour?”

“Why do I see red in some of your things? I mean, I ain’t complaining but you don’t like bright colors.”

“So you haven’t noticed. Red is your colour, darling. I would always have it with me. Besides, it isn’t as bright as pastels and mix in well with black. Also reminds me of our blood, but that’s just the minority of my reasons.”

Jason’s heart swelled with love and pride. He didn’t stop kissing and hugging you the entire day.

RED AND BLACK AESTHETIC BOYFRIENDS. People always stare at you two because wow, there’s a badass, awesome, classy-looking goth and a hot guy radiating off bad boy energy walking around the streets of Gotham with intertwined hands and matching sunglasses, how could they not stare?

It’s obvious you’re boyfriends and some people gives you that nasty, disgusting looks upon seeing your intertwined hands which alone screams homophobia. You and Jason deal with it by rubbing it in their faces, being lovey-dovey and romantic, doing unnecessary amount of touching, calling each other every pet names you could come up with, and showing lots of PDA until they stop being such stupid assholes.

Though, most people you came across were genuine sweethearts and kind-hearted, who only ever smiled or stared with a soft look when they see you two, probably happy and relieved that a gay couple is getting comfortable to walk around together. Some of them would even approach just to give you and Jason compliments, like how good you look together, how awesome your outfit is, how you two are literally the coolest couple they have ever seen. Jason was glad they approached solely for the purpose of complimenting your relationship and not to spit nasty slurs, because the least he wants when you two have a date is to get in a fight and could possibly be arrested for public disturbance and physical assault.

Growing up watching your parents’s romance blossom all your life definitely shaped your love language into that of theirs, wherein you would praise Jason in such poetic ways, whisper love thoughts in his ear, and touch him with gentle hands like how your parents does. You treat him like a treasure, like he’s the most precious thing you’ve ever seen, and Jason finds himself loving it more than he thought he would.

Meanwhile, Jason’s love language is physical (or any kind for that matter) affection and quality time. You find it adorable because he can’t keep his hands to himself and always either holding your hand or touching you despite being the ‘big bad wolf’ as he views himself to be. For a man with such rage and resentment towards the world, he’s the biggest softy when it comes to you and would throw everything away if he gets to be with you everyday 24/7.

You definitely exchanged some weapons at least once or more. There’s no way in hell you didn’t.

And you also definitely gave each other newly bought weapons on your anniversary as a gift, Jason’s being guns and yours being sais.

There’s a newly added shelf in Jason’s apartment for you to place your things there so you don’t have to bring them every time you come over. The shelf is, of course, painted black and actually shaped like a coffin to further show gothicness. Pictures of you together mostly decorated your shelf in black frames, along with a bunch of skulls and ancient crystal ball that your mother gave you. There’s also black roses and few of your favorite books; Frankstein by Mary Shelley, a book of Edgar Allan Poe’s classic stories, and We have always lived in the castle by Shirley Jackson.

Also, at one point, Jason was convinced his boyfriend’s a witch because when he got badly injured one day, you took out some mysterious ingredients stored in potion bottles and mixed them in to create what seemed like an antidote before rubbing it gently on his wounds, and they magically healed like three days later. He wouldn’t stop pestering you about it for a whole month, oddly excited of the possibility that you might be a witch since your ancestors had a history of witchcrafts.

“I was just taught by my grandmother how to create antidotes on emergencies, chéri. It’s nothing serious.”

“But you could be a witch!”

“Being a witch is more than just making antidotes, my dear Jason.”

“But you could still be a witch, I stand my point.”

Your grandmother also may or may not have taught you how to hex and curse people as well as how to use tarot cards, but he doesn’t need to know that.

Telling you about his fall-out and rekindle with Bruce, his torture and death and resurrection, as well as what he went through as a child took Jason two years in the relationship and four years since he met you. It didn’t bother you at all, knowing the trauma he endured isn’t easy to talk about, letting him play with your hands for comfort. He also told you about the criminals he killed and the thirst of vengeance and blood whenever Joker’s mentioned.

You stayed silent the whole time that worried Jason; you usually uttered comforting words whenever you noticed him troubled. But now, you were just silent even after he finished his story that had him think it might’ve been too much to take in. However, when he looked at you fearfully, his eyes immediately widened upon witnessing the utmost rage and murderous look on your face.

His boyfriend, who is almost impossible to anger or lose control of emotions, was fucking shaking with rage. Your self-control was impressive; you wanted so fucking bad to brutally torture and kill Joker, but knowing Jason needs you, pushed down the dark desire and pulled him into a tight embrace instead. You whispered words of comfort and encouragement and reassurance to him, yet your voice betrayed you as it was low, and dark, and just didn’t have the usual calm tone you had.

The next day, it was announced on Gotham City news that the Joker was sent to Arkham Asylum by an unknown vigilante, severely and brutally beaten by crowbar with all his nails pulled out and obvious signs of mild yet intense torture.

“Hey, baby? Take a look at this.”

“Well, well... What a wonderful news. I believe he should’ve been killed, though. The nails, broken bones and cut off tongue aren’t enough for him.”

“...They never said he got his tongue cut off, sweetheart.”

“Oh.”

He smirked and kissed you hard, absolutely proud of what you did.

Meeting your family was an extraordinary experience for Jason. Your parents, Gomez and Morticia, easily accepted and welcomed him into the family, thrilled that their son finally had someone to love. They’re always accepting, as you had told Jason. He got to see their romance that you often talked about and can’t help but notice you inherited both of their romantic side that he oh so loves.

Your siblings, Wednesday and Pugsley, were adorable to say the least even though Wednesday was quite terrifying for a girl. She actually likes Jason and initiated a conversation that she never did before with others, even referring to him as ‘big brother’ at the end of the day that had Jason grinning from ear to ear. He knew Wednesday didn’t like people and was basically an anti-social, homicidal maniac, so seeing her grow attached to him felt like he saved the whole world and was given a blessing. Pugsley, on the other hand, was totally amazed by him and threw him like, thirty questions about Red Hood. Apparently, Jason’s his favorite vigilante.

Watching you and your family interact was amusing as you were all funny without even trying, specially that time when you, Jason and your parents were having casual conversations in the dining table and Wednesday came walking past the four of you with mace in hand. Morticia had stopped talking to ask her “Is that for your brother?” and when Wednesday nodded, she extended her hands to you with palms up as you pulled a large axe from the set of woods on the ceiling and handed it to your mother, Morticia giving it to Wednesday with a “That’s better” said.

It happened so casually that Jason didn’t think much of it until he realized what just occurred and had to keep himself from laughing. Your family’s so cool and awesome he was thankful to be considered as one, already loving every single member.

He now had a new family and can’t wait to introduce you to his, nevermind the hesitance due to his annoying brothers.

Overall, you two are just utterly and madly in love despite your disturbing, homicidal mindset and his... well, Jason Todd attitude, and would do literally anything to ensure each other’s safety. You would kill for each other, even destroy the world, and nothing will be able to ruin what you have. Everyone’s practically jealous of your bond that they know they’ll never have with anyone.

One thing’s for sure — soulmates for life!!

© ᴀʟʟ ʀɪɢʜᴛs ʀᴇsᴇʀᴠᴇᴅ ᴛᴏ ʜᴀᴅᴇsʀɪsᴇ. sᴛᴇᴀʟɪɴɢ, ᴘʟᴀɢɪᴀʀɪᴢɪɴɢ, ᴏʀ ᴜsɪɴɢ ᴍʏ ᴡᴏʀᴋs ғᴏʀ ᴍᴏɴᴇᴛᴀʀʏ ɢᴀɪɴ ɪs sᴛʀɪᴄᴛʟʏ ᴘʀᴏʜɪʙɪᴛᴇᴅ. ᴀsᴋ ᴘᴇʀᴍɪssɪᴏɴ ʙᴇғᴏʀᴇ ʀᴇᴘᴏsᴛɪɴɢ ᴏʀ ᴛʀᴀɴsʟᴀᴛɪɴɢ.

three taps (kaz brekker x reader)

summary: kaz taps three times. it’s his way to say i love you, i care.

or

the three times it took jesper to realize that three taps were something more than a meaningless habit.

warnings: violence, blood, implied se*ual as*ault (not detailed at all and very brief)

a/n: did i write this in less than a day? yes. did the inspiration come to me at six am? also yes. what about your other 50 wip, anna? did you write anything for them? nope.

hope you enjoyed reading this one as much as i enjoyed writing it <3

i. tap, tap, tap

Jesper had seen him do it more times than he could count. It was Kaz’s thing. Three taps, index finger hitting a wooden table, thumb brushing against a map or cane harshly meeting the floor. Most times they were fast taps, like a subconscious action, coming and going before anyone could give it any mind. Other times, however, they were slower, more emphasized, as if trying to make a point. Jesper was used to the taps, as he imagined (Y/N) and Inej also were. The sound came prior to every heist, prior to pronouncing the words of luck (no mourners, no funerals).

It was Kaz’s habit, something he probably did without even realizing, and Jesper couldn’t help but find it oddly comforting, a routine that somehow eased his nerves. (The world could be going to war, Ketterdam could be crashing down in flames, and Kaz would still tap three times. There was a sense of safety in that.)

It wasn’t until Jesper had a closer look that he realized the action was perhaps not as meaningless as he believed.

ii. cane meets ground three times: come back to me, i’m here

(Y/N) had known Kaz the longest out of all of them. Jesper hadn’t known the Slat without her, he hadn’t known Kaz without her. She’d always been there, a person in which the Dregs often found solace and always obtained an ear to listen without judgment. (Y/N) was a walking contradiction, soft around the edges yet powerful enough to bring the toughest people to their knees. She was everything Kaz wasn’t, maybe that was the reason they complimented each other as well as they did.

Keep reading

kaz brekker being a menace! six of crows edition;

kaz and matthias underrated moment: “were you always good at locks?” “no.” “how did you learn?” “the way you learn about anything. take it apart.” “and the magic tricks?” kaz snorted. “so you don’t think im a demon anymore?” “I know you’re a demon, but your tricks are human.”

Kaz’s grin was as sharp as a razor. “Thank goodness we’re proper thieves. We’re going to do a little shopping and it’s all going on Fjerda’s tab. Inej,” he said, “let’s start with something shiny.” - chapter 28.

“when we get our money, you can burn kruge to keep you warm,” kaz said. “i’m going to pay someone to burn my kruge for me.” kaz fell into step beside him. “why don’t you pay someone else to pay someone else to burn your kruge for you? that’s what the big players do.” - chapter 19.

“please tell me kaz hasn’t gone missing again,” nina said. - chapter 37.

kaz marvelled at his own stupidity. dumber than a pigeon fresh off the boat and looking to make a fortune on the east stave. - chapter 45.

“son of a bitch,” he exclaimed a second later. rollins held up his watch chain. a turnip was hanging from the fob where his diamond-studded timepiece should have been. “that little bastard-“ then a thought came to him. he reached for his wallet. it was gone. so was his tie pin, the kaelish coin pendant he wore for luck, and the gold buckles on his shoes. rollins wondered if if he should check the fillings in his teeth. - chapter 46.

They blew up the lab, he’d thought as the debris rained down around him. I definitely did not tell them to blow up the lab. - chapter 38.

The harbour had lifted her dark hair, and for a moment Kaz was a boy again, sure that there was magic in this world. She’d laughed, and if he could have bottled the sound and got drunk on it every night, he would have. It terrified him. - chapter 38.

“And get me clean clothes and fresh water.” “Since when am I your valet?” “Man with a knife, remember?” He said over his shoulder. “Man with a gun!” Jesper called after him. Kaz replied with a time-saving gesture that relied heavily on his middle finger. - chapter 13.

At any given time he had at least two knives stashed somewhere in his clothes. He didn’t even count this one, really - a tidy, wicked little blade. - chapter 13.

“This is disgusting.” kaz shrugged. “Only disgusting thing about it is that I didn’t think of it first.” “These men aren’t slaves, kaz. they’re prisoners.” “they’re murderers and rapists.” “and thieves and con artists. your people.” “nina, sweet, they aren’t forced to fight.” - chapter 6.

these are just some favourites from the first book that made me laugh very loudly.

Kaz Brekker. That’s it. Reblog if you agree.

🖤 Black Stack 🖤

Thank you for the tag @abbeyx and @booktheraepy! <3

Pictured from top to bottom: The Secret History, The Picture of Dorian Gray, If We Were Villains, The Wicker King, The Seven Husbands of Evelyn Hugo, Circe, Ninth House, Heartless, Six of Crows, Crooked Kingdom, Vengeful, A Conjuring of Light, The Invisible Life of Addie LaRue

Tagging (no pressure!): @dauen, @wecandoit, @anxiousstudybuddy, @easybells-studies, @moranjpg, @mirthofbooks, @appleinducedsleep, and @arywizm

Dark Academia Book Stack

Pictured from top to bottom: The Picture of Dorian Gray, Never Let Me Go, The Secret History, These Violent Delights, The Wicker King, If We Were Villains, Vicious, Vengeful, Ninth House, Maurice, Catherine House, The Ravens, The Goldfinch

The Ultimate Dark Academia Book Recommendation Guide Ever

The title of this post is clickbait. I, unfortunately, have not read every book ever. Not all of these books are particularly “dark” either. However, these are my recommendations for your dark academia fix. The quality of each of these books varies. I have limited this list to books that are directly linked to the world of academia and/or which have a vaguely academic setting.

Dark Academia staples:

The Secret History by Donna Tartt

If We Were Villains by M.L. Rio

Dead Poets Society by Nancy H. Kleinbaum

Vita Nostra by Maryna Dyachenko

Dark academia litfic or contemporary:

Bunny by Mona Awad

The Idiot by Elif Batuman

These Violent Delights by Micah Nemerever

White Ivy by Susie Yang

The Cloisters by Katy Hays

Never Let Me Go by Kazuo Ishiguro

The Lake of Dead Languages by Carol Goodman

A Separate Peace by John Knowles

Black Chalk by Christopher J. Yates

Attribution by Linda Moore

Dark academia thrillers or horror:

In My Dreams I Hold a Knife by Ashley Winstead

The Maidens by Alex Michaelides

Ghosts of Harvard by Francesca Serritella

Catherine House by Elisabeth Thomas

Plain Bad Heroines by Emily M. Danforth

They Never Learn by Layne Fargo

The It Girl by Ruth Ware

Never Saw Me Coming by Vera Kurian

Dark academia fantasy/sci-fi:

Babel: An Arcane History by R.F. Kuang

The Atlas Six by Olivie Blake

Ninth House by Leigh Bardugo

A Lesson in Vengeance by Victoria Lee

The Starless Sea by Erin Morgenstern

Vicious by V.E. Schwab

A Discovery of Witches by Deborah Harkness

The Betrayals by Bridget Collins

Dark academia romance:

Gothikana by RuNyx

Alone With You in the Ether by Olivie Blake

Dark academia YA or MG:

Truly Devious by Maureen Johnson

A Deadly Education by Naomi Novik

Ace of Spades by Faridah Àbíké-Íyímídé

The Raven Boys by Maggie Stiefvater

Legendborn by Tracy Deonn

Crave by Tracy Wolff

Wilder Girls by Rory Power

The Harry Potter series by J.K. Rowling

Dark academia miscellaneous:

My Dark Vanessa by Kate Elizabeth Russell

Disorientation by Elaine Hsieh Chou

Alphabet of Thorn by Patricia A. McKillip

𝐭𝐨𝐝𝐚𝐲 𝐢 𝐛𝐮𝐫𝐲 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐢𝐧 𝐦𝐞 𝒎𝒂𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒕.

pairing: dream of the endless x f!reader

a cursed mortal, a lonesome Dream Lord, and a story spanning one thousand years.

content warnings: angst, slowburn/slowbuild, mutual pining, dream being dream.

⏳ playlist | corinthian & wanderer playlist | pinterest board | inspo tag & asks | ao3 |

🌙  CHAPTER INDEX

YEAR 0-200

YEAR 200-300

YEAR 304

YEAR 304-521

YEAR 522

YEAR 522-619

YEAR 619-850

YEAR 916-994

YEAR 1021 I

YEAR 1021 II

BEYOND.

➥ BONUS CONTENT:

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ ONE SHOTS:

inside of you, in spite of you ⋅⋆ ── [the corinthian-centric one shot, coming soon]

midas touch ⋅⋆ ── [dream & wanderer smut, coming soon]

dreamfalling into nightmares ⋅⋆ ── [corinthian & wanderer, dreamfall]

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ DRABBLES/BLURBS:

"I wonder what I look like in your eyes."

"I broke my rules for you."

“My heart is so full of you I can hardly call it my own.”

“You were worth the wait.”

"If I kissed you, I don’t think I’d be able to stop."

“I don’t think you understand the… effect you have on me.”

when wanderer met destruction

goodbye, stardust.

s t a y.

"lady dream."

currently accepting headcanon/drabble requests and discussions for this series, feel free to send something in!

P.S. I do not do tag lists, if you want to keep up with this fic, please bookmark this post or follow me directly, thank you.

Apple of My Eye

Pairings: Dream of the Endless x Reader Word Count: 12.2k Warnings: Angst, torture, injuries… A/N: I really love this idea and this character, she’s just so fcking sarcastic and dramatic while literally being tortured, and I think that’s beautiful. Enjoy!

“I give you the sweetest apple blessed with Asmodeus’ curse.”

Roderick Burgess stood before a summoning circle as his cult of worshippers surrounded him in dark cloaks and darker magic. The room was silent, other than the silent chants of his followers underneath his demanding voice.

“I give you the rare black lily of the calla.”

Keep reading

I Have Trembled My Way Deep

Morpheus x Naiad!Reader

Summary: The God of Dreams assists you in escaping Poseidon’s obsession.

status: Completed One-shot

wordcount: 15.9k 

warnings: Implied non-con (not Morpheus), slow burn ish? 

18+ only, your media consumption is your own responsibilities. Warnings have been given. Do not proceed if these matters upset you.  

 I have trembled my way deep into surrender

I have stretched my aching body across the world

I have stood at the threshold of your wonder

Bid me enter, Lord, allow me to unfold

—

You remember

that it was a game for Poseidon. A sport. Something to fill his spare time in his eternal life. For you? Your ruin. 

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touching din | din djarin

Summary: The three times that Din bends his own rules and engages in physical touch. 

his primary love languages are acts of service and physical touch. i will die on this hill. i started this one just to indulge in the thoughts of touching his lovely face. it’s been in the works for a while and although i know it’s far from perfect, i’m glad that it finally gets to see the light of day! warnings: bad language, potential incoherence? idk i’m very tired but i hope you like it tags: plenty of fluff, plenty of indulgent, sfw touching, and then a good handful of angst. rollercoaster central. this takes place over a period of time, so part of it comes after finding out grogu’s name, which is why he’s referred to as many things! word count: 4650 written by: archie support me on ko-fi!

The travelling between planets would’ve been excruciating if not for your life partner and your adoptive child. The three of you made rather an unorthodox family. A runaway from Corellia, a Mandalorian and a… a sweet ball of green. An unorthodox family, indeed, but loving.

The Child chirped and bubbled away on your lap, apparently having a conversation with you while you sat in the pilot seat. You listened attentively, made agreeing noises at all the right moments, the lights of hyperspace travel filling the cabin with slow flashes. He really was so cute. You’d tell him it often, and you’d tell him that Din thought so too, even if he’d never say it. That much was obvious.

It was in the way he carried him, the way he protected him. The occasional pat to his head, or the quiet rub to his long ears as he slept. He wasn’t the type to openly say it, but it was clear, and that was what counted.

The Child reached out to the knob atop the gearstick, fingers wiggling.

“Baby, no. We have to always ask Din about the ship, hm?” You bounced him gently on your knee in an effort to ease the sad coos- but there was no need. A gloved hand reached around you, exposed fingertips closing on the ball. It was unscrewed and placed into the waiting green hands, content whirs and chatters soon filling the air.

The warmth in your chest grew into a smile as you dropped your head back, peering up at the helmeted man that stood just out of sight. “That’s a yes, then?”

A nod. “That’s a yes.”

Keep reading

A Touch of Humanity - Din Djarin x gn!reader

Part I: Nabu

Part II | Part III

summary: Naboo isn't Din's favorite place in the galaxy. It doesn't even break his top ten. Grogu's ever-curious and troublemaking nature intertwines their lives with that of a local artist. Someone who is able to wrangle Grogu, comfort Din, and care for others without a second thought. Naboo isn't Din's favorite place in the galaxy, but with you around it was quickly becoming that way.

word count: 9.1k

tags/warnings: fluff, the timeline is what I say it is just go with it, Din deserves a #1 Dad mug, Grogu is a menace, gift giving is Din's love language, I used canonical places and history until there was no more to go off of and then made up my own to flesh it out, mentions of forgetting to eat, descriptions of food, slow burn

Naboo is humid this time of year. It’s muggy, damp, moist, all the worst things to be when it's so damn hot. It’s the type of boiling humidity that Din can feel creep across his skin under his armor. He absolutely hates having to come to Naboo. A planet ripe with swamps, cities full of holier than thou pompous people, and don’t get him started on the Gungans. Din swears he’s not prejudiced, but if one more Gungan tries having a conversation with him he's shooting first and asking questions later. 

Sure, everyone else in the galaxy might see Naboo as this idyllic planet, but Din just can’t. The scenery is beautiful, he won't deny that. Having to chase down a bounty here, however, isn't quite as beautiful. Democracy and civil order are great. Until they interfere with him doing his job because some lowlife seeks asylum in Naboo’s lengthy court systems. Rendering them essentially untouchable unless he wants the entire Republic on his ass. 

The only saving grace of this hellscape of a planet are the mountains. It's quieter up in the Gallo Mountains. The people aren't as nosy or judgemental. They tend to their crops, their children, and their homes while minding their business. Outsiders are welcome, but not doted on. Something Din can respect. Maybe it's the closer connection to their Grizmallti roots, but the people of Dee’ja Peak are much more palatable than those from the cities. Or the Gungans.

Even in this sticky heat, the people of Dee’ja Peak go about their business. The buildings are stout cylinders with round roofs. Public buildings are taller than residential ones. Windmills are scattered throughout the town, generating all the energy they need. Some smaller gardens are used for personal crops, but otherwise there are tiered fields in the mountainous terrain where they grow what is needed for the season. A river flows along the south most border, the water a glittering blue. No doubt if Din were to follow it he would come upon a waterfall over the mountain’s edge. 

He spots what he’s looking for. There’s a corral where the younger children are kept during the workday. A few people are assigned each day to care for them. Din knows there's no place safer on Naboo than Dee’ja Peak. There’s also likely no one as qualified to watch Grogu while Din goes digging for information on a former resident. 

“Stay put,” he orders the child after placing him within the corral. 

Grogu peers up at him, cooing. 

“Go play, I’ll be back soon.”

Grogu observes his surroundings with anxious curiosity. Once he starts to amble off toward the other children, Din stalks off to the Inn. It’s a neutral toned building with a couple floors. The door slides open once it senses him. A middle aged woman sits behind the counter reading a newspaper. She looks up with her eyes only when she hears the door.

“How many nights?” She asks, looking back at her paper. 

“I’m not here for a room,” Din says.

This gets her to fully look up at him. She looks him up and down with a critical gaze. Unlike most other places, the people here never seem too put off or intimidated by his presence. Din honestly appreciates the tonal difference here from the rest of Naboo, the planet. Although every Naboo, the people, has Grizmallti ancestry, the Naboo tend to focus on their newer identity. A side effect of fleeing due to civil war. 

The people in the mountains, though. They don't consider themselves Naboo. They consider themselves Grizmallti herds who live in the mountains of Nabu. Grizmallti herds use the original name given to Naboo, the name of the deity they once worshipped. All things Din has to remember when dealing with the different sides of the planet. Their differences are small, but vital. Not offending anyone or ticking someone off makes Din’s life easier whenever he blows through. Working knowledge of the cultures is just part of the job. 

“What are you here for then?” the woman asks him, jerking her chin up at him.

“I need information on Sola Pellis. I was told to come to you.”

“You were told wrong.”

Din measures the woman. There’s definitely a blaster holstered to the underside of the counter. Her joints are swollen from wear and tear meaning her movements will be slow.

“What are you getting for hiding her? I can double it,” he attempts. 

The woman snorts.

“I’m not hiding anyone. Only people in here are paying me to sleep. I don't have anything for you about Sola.”

“But you know who she is.”

Newspaper abandoned on the countertop, the woman sighs.

“Look, I recognize you. I know why you’re looking for her. If I had any information, I'd give it to you. Sola is no friend of Dee’ja Peak, or Nabu.”

Din can tell she's being honest. A dead end. Great. Perfect. Tracking down Sola Pellis is proving to be a headache. One he isn't sure is worth the credits. 

“Do you know of anyone who may have more information?”

“I know the last time she was seen she was disappearing into the thick woods to the west. If that's true, you can kiss your bounty goodbye,” the woman tells him, going back to her newspaper.

“Why do you say that?”

“Because no one goes into those woods and comes back. The Gungans avoid the core of Nabu because of the sea monsters. The Grizmallti avoid the thick woods for a similar reason,” her words are ominous, but her gaze doesn't leave the article she’s reading. 

Din mutters a thank you and leaves. The cooled air of the Inn does nothing but make the outside even more unbearable. Dirt crunches beneath his boots. Chatter fills the air as the townspeople live their collective lives. When he arrives back at the corral Grogu is nowhere to be seen. Panic seeps in, but instinct takes over. There’s a break in the wood of the corral fence. One just big enough for the adventurous scamp to squeeze through. 

A set of small three-toed footprints lead away from the corral. Din follows them. He can see a couple scuffs where Grogu must have taken a tumble. No doubt he was running to avoid getting caught doing exactly what he wasn't supposed to be doing. The tracks lead to one of the many short cylindrical houses and end at the front door. With a sigh, Din knocks on the door. He’s more irritated with the kid than worried he’s in danger. In all his travels, he’s only ever come to this particular corner of Naboo for information. The seedy underbelly of the galaxy seems to steer clear of here. Like the whole galaxy has an unspoken, but agreed upon respect for Dee’ja Peak. 

You open the door smiling over your shoulder. The smile falters as you take him in curiously. It only takes a second for realization to light up your face.

“You must be here for the little one,” your voice is as kind as your smile.

Din nods. You gesture for him to follow you inside. He does so cautiously. It’s a small space, but undoubtedly cozy. A couple cushy looking seats surround a small table. The kitchen is attached to the far curved wall, containing only the essentials. A stove, a fridge, a counter with three lower cabinets, and a sink. Grogu splashes around in water in the sink. His clothes are folded on the counter. He coos and reaches out when he spots Din approaching.

“You’re giving him a bath,” Din states, just a hint of a question at the end.

“Yeah, he was covered in dirt and jelly. I hope you don't mind,” you say as you grab a dish towel to dry Grogu off.

“Jelly?”

“I think he smelled my jelly cakes and wandered over here. When I came out of the bathroom, he was laying on a plate of crumbs,” you chuckle.

Din turns his head so Grogu knows he’s giving him a disapproving stare. The kid gives him an innocent look in return. 

“I’m sorry. I can pay you for them,” Din says.

You shake your head and wave him off as you wrap Grogu in the towel.

“No worries. He’s very sweet. Are you his father?” You smile as you redress the kid.

“In a way.”

You nod. When Grogu is once again dressed, you scoop him up. He happily coos as you make silly faces at him. Din is itching to get off this planet, but he doesn’t put a stop to it. Not for the first time, Din wonders if he’s doing the kid a disservice. He could tuck Grogu away somewhere here. Where it’s safe. At least, safer than anywhere else. The lonesome ache that ate at him when Grogu was with Luke comes back at the thought. Then the silent reminder that Grogu chose to live this life with him. 

“Thank you for cleaning him up.”

You flash Din a smile that gives the scenery of Naboo a run for its money.

“It's really no problem. Like I said, he’s very sweet. Although, you should probably teach him not to wander into strangers’ homes. I know not everywhere is like here,” you give him a light lecture. 

“I’m trying,” Din sighs. 

Your smile turns sympathetic. With one last little boop of his nose, you hand Grogu off to Din. As you do so, you tell him your name. Din doesn’t return the favor, but you don't ask him to. You’ve seen him pass through before. No one knows his name. When parents are trying to scare their kids straight he’s the Man With The Metal Skin. To everyone else he’s simply the Mandalorian. 

“Who are you looking for this time?” you ask.

Din freezes as he looks at you. Only interest paints your features. His guard goes up.

“Why do you think I’m looking for someone?” he asks.

You quirk an amused smile.

“Believe it or not, not many bounty hunters come through here. Even less Mandalorians. People talk.”

He regards you for a moment longer.

“Sola Pellis. Do you know her?”

You go pale. Regardless of how you decide to answer, Din can tell the truth. You swallow around the lump that’s formed in your throat.

“I think we all know her.”

“Do you know where I might find her?”

An uncomfortable shift on your feet gives you away.

“Not exactly. She told me she was going to Jakku, but then I heard she was seen going into the forest west of here,” you tell him guiltily.

“Which would you believe?” 

Your eyes squeeze shut for a moment. There's a deep intake of breath through your nose then an exhale through your slightly parted lips. Once the calming action is complete, your eyes open again. They fix steadily on Din.

“I want to tell you to believe she went into the forest.”

“But you don't think she did,” he checks for confirmation.

“No, I don’t. My sister is many things, but suicidal isn’t one of them,” you sigh.

“Sister?”

“Estranged, but yes.”

Din chews on this unexpected bit of information. He spares a glance at Grogu. How the hell did the kid manage to kick up a lead like this?

“Do you have any idea where on Jakku she would go?” He knows it's a long shot, but it's also his only shot.

“I don't even know what’s on Jakku other than sand,” you admit sheepishly.

Din gives a short nod. That’s everything. Grogu coos at you some more, clearly infatuated now that he knows you possibly carry jelly cakes. It makes it hard for Din to move. Grogu doesn't even reach toward Peli like this. 

“Thank you,” he says.

Another moment of standing there.

“I’m sorry about your sister.”

The words completely surprise you. He can see it all over your face. Your eyebrows raise, eyes grow larger, and face reddens just a tad. 

“You’re just doing your job, right?” You give a sad smile.

He once again nods. It’s not the first time the job has left him feeling a little torn. The first time was Grogu. With that, he makes his leave for Jakku.

***

It’s a couple weeks later when the Mandalorian is knocking on your door again. Surprise is evident on your face as you greet him.

“Would you watch him?” He asks without any prelude.

You simply blink at him for a moment. Grogu essentially materializes from beneath the Mandalorian’s cape. He had been tucked nicely into a leather bag. 

“Really?”

“If it isn't too much trouble.”

“Y’know there’s the corral in-”

“I left him there last time and he ended up with you. I think he’ll be happier going with you to begin with.”

Grogu’s big eyes watch you hopefully. He coos and reaches out for you. Maker, he’s adorable. With a smile you accept him into your arms.

“Okay, how long will you be?” 

“I won't be back until nightfall.”

Your eyebrows furrow. It’s morning now. That’s a long time to leave his child with someone who’s a perfect stranger. 

“Where are you going?”

“Moenia, but I don’t trust anywhere else to be safe enough. He’s… special.”

The vagueness of the Mandalorian’s words pique your interest, but you put it off for another time. Moenia is a city below the mountains. No wonder he'll be gone all day. You give him a nod as Grogu tangles his hands in your hair.

“Good luck.”

The Mandalorian nods. He gives Grogu one last pat on the head before leaving. As long as you kept him fed and entertained, Grogu was pretty painless to watch over. You learned quickly that any inkling of boredom leads to increasing amounts of mischief. It took a broken plate, a chewed slipper, and a close call with a knife to teach you that lesson.

Night has settled over the Gallo Mountains when Din returns. He seems a little worse for wear. You can tell even through all that beskar armor. His shoulders are a bit slumped and his knock wasn’t as strong. He expects you to hand Grogu off and then to be on his way. 

“He’s asleep and by the looks of it you should be too,” you tell him with an amused smile.

Din follows you into your house. Grogu is out like a light on one of the cushy seats. A too large blanket covers him to his chin. Din waits and watches for a second. A calm rushes over him when he observes Grogu’s chest moving lightly. When his attention is turned back to you he finds a soft smile already facing him.

“Was he any trouble?” Din asks quietly.

“A little, but it was a fun trouble,” you shrug slightly, “He’s a good kid.”

“Thank you for watching him.”

“Anytime. Now, you’re clearly tired and the kid is asleep. You’re welcome to stay the night. I have a cot I can bring out,” you offer kindly.

He has to mull it over. The thought of sleeping in his armor tempts him to go back to the Razor Crest. The exhaustion in his bones and Grogu’s peaceful form pull him to stay. He can stand a night of sleeping in his armor, he decides.

“I would appreciate that.”

***

Morning comes slowly on Naboo. The daylight takes its time creeping over the mountains to warm up Dee’ja Peak. Din awakes with a crick in his neck, but otherwise rested. He sits up and tilts his head left with a satisfying crack. Then he tilts his head right, earning another satisfying crack, alleviating the crick.

“That sounded like it felt good,” your playful voice says from the kitchen. 

Din looks over and sees you at a little table pressed against the wall. Grogu is across from you all but swimming in a bowl of warm oats. It makes him ache a little, how at home Grogu seems to feel here. Din knows what he’s made to do as a Mandalorian. He knows what is expected of him as he raises a foundling. Still, he can't help recalling his own youngling days. He remembers wishing that he could just stay in one place for longer than a few days. He suspects that’s why he’s prone to revisiting familiar landscapes. It gives him a false sense of stability and he hopes it may for Grogu as well. 

“It did,” he admits. 

The deep cool tone of his voice skates across your skin leaving subtle goosebumps. You’re not sure if it's the modulator in his helmet, but his voice is so soothing. 

“Do you want some breakfast?” you gesture to the pot on the stove over a low flame.

“No, that’s alright. We should go when he’s done.”

You nod and go back to what you were doing. He hasn't noticed the paper in front of you until now, or the furious scribbling of your hand. The tip of your tongue sticks out as you focus on the drawing you’ve been working on. 

“Is that… me?” he asks, befuddled and flustered. 

On the paper before you is a drawing. An extremely good drawing. It’s Din on the cot, one hand on his chest and the other on his stomach as he sleeps. The morning light filters through the window, shining off his armor. Over him is Grogu, peering down from where he was once asleep on the seat. The shading is soft and photorealistic. He imagines you’ve been at it for at least an hour. Something deep in his chest stirs, waking something else deep in his belly. 

“Oh- uh- yeah, sorry. I was waiting for you to wake up and… force of habit I guess,” you stutter out, face flushing. 

“You have a habit of drawing people while they’re sleeping?” he questions.

“Well, not exactly, but I have a habit of drawing whenever the inspiration strikes without really thinking,” you rub the back of your neck, embarrassed.

Din allows himself a moment to study the image. It’s like a graphite photograph. You have some real skill with a pencil. Maybe even more than Din has with a blaster. 

“Could I have it?” he asks, an edge of anxiousness nudging in at the end.

You brandish a smile that makes the inside of Din’s flight suit a little hotter. Maker, it’s been too long since he’s taken care of himself. 

“Yeah, of course.”

You put a few finishing touches on the drawing before rolling it up and handing it over. Din almost wishes you could see the soft smile he offers up. 

“You’re very good.”

“Thank you,” you smile bashfully.

“You've been very kind to us. Thank you.”

You nod, still sporting a small smile. A glance between Din and Grogu doesn't go unnoticed.

“You’re both welcome anytime… Could I ask you a question, though?” 

Din can see the apprehensiveness rolling off of you.

“You can ask, but I can’t promise an answer.”

“What happened with my sister?” 

A beat of silence. Well, silence outside of Grogu’s munching.

“I’m still looking. Jakku was another dead end,” he answers honestly.

“What… what are you going to do with her when you find her?” You ask slowly,

You stare him down. A good minute goes by with no words and an intense gaze you can feel from behind that helmet. 

“The bounty doesn't specify dead or alive. It’s up to her how I bring her in.”

You nod, a sigh slipping out. It's no secret that Sola Pellis is the worst the Gizmallti have to offer. The people of Dee’ja Peak usually keep to themselves. They conduct their lives up in the mountains and don't get involved with the affairs of other places. What drove Sola to become a mercenary, you don't know.

 You do know that she mostly took jobs and money from the worst people. Sola has hurt a lot of people, a lot of children. Somewhere along the way whatever moral compass she had deteriorated. It’s no surprise someone put a bounty on her head. If anything, it’s a surprise it took this long. 

“So, where to next?” You ask as you take your bowl and Grogu’s now empty bowl to the sink. 

You place the dirty dishes in the sink, but turn to face Din again. Your lower back presses into the edge of the sink as you lean back.

“Tatooine.”

“Tatooine that’s…,” you pause a moment to think, brows furrowing creating a wrinkle between them before your face brightens, “desert planet with two suns, right?” 

Din nods. He scoops up a gurgling Grogu. There’s something about the hard lines of the Mandalorian contrasting the softness of the kid that ensnares you. He’s so gentle with the tiny ball of trouble. So much gentler than you’d expect someone of his background to be capable of being. In fact, whenever he’s in town the Mandalorian is extremely peaceful. He’s civil. A strange juxtaposition from the stories you’ve heard about the group.

“That’s a kinder description than I would give it,” he says after a moment of consideration.

“What description would you give it?”

“A boiling sarlacc pit.” 

A laugh tumbles off your lips. It's a soft sound that gives Din the same sensation as hearing distant wind chimes. A sort of contemplative calm that allows his chest room to feel the steady beating of his own heart. A brief moment of acknowledging his own humanity.

“Have you been to a lot of places then?” 

Once again, Din nods.

“Have you been to Coruscant?”

“Unfortunately.”

“Do you like any places you’ve visited?” you chuckle.

“I like it here,” it hangs in the air for a moment before he snatches it back with a clarification, “in Dee’ja Peak.”

“I’m glad Nabu caught your affections,” you smile with a hint of pride. 

“Not Naboo,” he shakes his head slightly. 

An amused quirk takes over your smile.

“Don’t let anyone else hear you say it like that.”

“I’m sorry, Nabu.” Din takes care to emphasize the ah sound a little more and shorten the last syllable. 

“No worries, just be careful when you're out there. People tend to get very defensive about the Naboo around here.”

Din nods in understanding. It was a careless slip up on his part. He takes it as a sign that he’s gotten too comfortable here. 

“Thank you, again.”

He takes his leave, you giving a chest height wave after him. 

***

You aren't answering the door a week later. Grogu coos curiously up at Din from his pod. The afternoon air hangs temperate and still.

“I don't know,” Din answers the question in Grogu’s eyes. 

He stalks off into town to ask around. He would have left Grogu with the newly fixed corral, but the kid made it clear he misses you. Whenever he wanted to bother Din about seeing you again, he would place his hand on the drawing. Din has it taped to the back wall of the cockpit on a smooth panel. Every time Grogu puts his little hand on the drawing and coos at Din with wide eyes, he can only respond with a soft soon, kid. 

He spots a shopkeeper who is reorganizing the farming tools they have on display outside. Grogu trails lazily behind him as he goes up to ask if he has any knowledge of your whereabouts. The store is next door, separated by a chunk of dirt road and a windmill. The gruff older man tells Din you’re likely by the riverbank honing your craft. 

Grogu spots you first. His excited gurgling and quickened pace in the pod tip Din off. Din’s gaze follows Grogu’s trajectory to find you. Sure enough, you’re set up on the riverbank sitting on a wooden stool. An easel is in front of you, your steady hand painting the rolling landscape before you with the tip of your tongue sticking out. Next to you sits an open case of paints, brushes, and other tools Din can’t place. When you hear Grogu you look over your shoulder with a bright smile.

“You found my secret spot,” you say teasingly as you place your paint brush onto the lip of the easel. 

You pick Grogu up and place him on your lap. He immediately cuddles into your chest. The part of the riverbank you’re on is only a few yards from the edge of town. The backs of houses cast shadows that reach out for you, but fall a few feet short.

“The hardware store owner told me where to find you.”

“Ah, Gus. He’s a good one. If he notices I haven't come back for lunch he’ll bring me some,” you smile fondly at the memories. 

“Grizmallti take care of their own,” Din recalls a saying he’s heard on occasion around these parts. 

You give him a pleasantly surprised look and nod. 

“How long d’you need me to watch him for?” you ask, looking down at Grogu as you scratch behind his ear. Grogu is absolutely eating up the sensation and the attention.

“Until tomorrow, if that’s okay.”

“I’m happy to. Where are you off to this time?”

“Endor.”

You perk up when he says it. 

“I've always wanted to go to Endor! Have you been there before?” Excitement is written all over your face.

Din finds it endearing, which spooks him. He thanks his Maker that you can’t see it on his face. 

“I have,” he nods.

“Let me guess, you hate it there too,” you tease amused.

You’re sitting there teasing him, Grogu is on your lap looking up at you adoringly, and the warmth of the sun is kissing your skin. Din’s breathing picks up a little, but not enough to alert you to the change. It’s an image he’s allowed himself to think of briefly before falling asleep. Pictures of someone faceless caring for Grogu when he can't. Not having to worry about the kid’s whereabouts and safety. What a comfort it would be to be able to just know Grogu is safe and happy without worry. Maybe that faceless person provides some companionship to Din as well sometimes, but that’s just a happy side effect. The real fantasy is a second more stable, but equally loving parental figure for Grogu.

“No, I don’t mind Endor.”

“Well, now I really want to go there. That’s a raving review from you,” you chuckle.

“Have you ever been off Nabu?” he asks.

“I've never left Dee’ja Peak.” 

“I get the sense people don't leave here often.”

You shake your head.

“Less than people visit, that’s for sure.” 

Grogu gets his hands on the paintbrush. You quickly reach to snatch it, but he manages to get in a swipe with it. A light purple streak paints diagonally across your face. You were using the color for the more distant mountains. Grogu gurgles at you innocently and you take the paintbrush from his hand. A smile is concealed by Din’s helmet.

“Okay, I think that's enough painting for one day,” you announce and place Grogu back in his pod. 

“I’ll be back tomorrow evening at the latest.”

You smile and nod. 

***

Din knows you're home this time. He’s later than he expected. Stars twinkle above and the warm glow of the lights through your windows lie ahead. He knocks and it takes you only a second to call out for him to come in. 

When he enters he finds you and Grogu at the small table in the living room. You’re sitting criss-crossed on the floor. Grogu is kneeling on top of the table, scribbling furiously on a piece of paper with a blue crayon. You color more lightly on yours with a green one. 

“I’m sorry I’m so late,” he says as he approaches. 

“It’s okay, once I got him some crayons he was set. He’s been at it for hours,” you chuckle and gesture to the pile of drawings behind you. 

Din flips through some of the drawings. They’re all a mishmash of multicolored scribbles. Over your shoulder he can see you’ve drawn Grogu drawing. It’s in crayon, but still somehow incredibly accurate. Grogu coos for Din once he’s satisfied with the amount of blue on the paper. Din pops him onto his hip. He immediately finds the small talisman hidden in a pocket of Din’s belt. Din takes it from him, clenching it in his fist. 

“I brought you something from Endor,” he tells you tentatively.

You peer up at him with wide eyes.

“You did?”

He holds out his hand and opens it. In his palm is a small semi-flat talisman of an Ewok with a hood and spear carved from a deep green stone. You take it tenderly, running your fingers over the curves and ridges. It’s cool to the touch and vaguely smells like forest. Din watches you study the talisman in awe. It’s something he spotted in passing and only cost him a few credits. It’s not the same as going there, but it’s a small piece of Endor in the palm of your hand. 

“This is beautiful, thank you so much,” you look up at him with an astonished expression, “You really didn’t have to get me anything.”

“It’s nothing. Consider it a token of appreciation.”

“I feel very appreciated, thank you,” your voice is soft and genuine like your eyes.

There's a brief moment where Din gets an urge to reach out for you. He doesn't know where the impulse comes from. He just knows that the kid likes you, which means you’re good. You’re good and help him out. You give him a place to rest, you give the kid a place to be a kid, and you do it all with a smile on your face. Din probably has the most respect for you out of anyone he knows. 

“Will you be staying the night? I can't imagine taking off in the dark is a good idea,” you offer with a knowing smile.

There's the telltale slump of his shoulders. He’s tired. It’s like your gaze is piercing his beskar.

“If you don't mind.”

“How could I mind after a gift like this?”

In the morning, the crayon drawing of Grogu is already rolled up next to Din. He hadn't even had the chance to ask for it. 

***

 “Grogu,” you scold.

He’s on the counter, a hand literally in the cookie jar. Those big eyes stay on you as his hand continues to inch forward into the jar.

“If you take a cookie out of that jar your father will be hearing about this,” you warn him. 

Grogu gives a displeased gurgle. His ears droop. With one last longing look at the cookies, he removes his hand from the jar. You pick him up off the counter. 

“C'mon, let’s spend some time outside.” 

You bring him out and set him loose in the grass in front of your house. This way he can hunt the snails that have infested your garden. He gets snacks and entertainment, you get a cleared out garden and a second to breathe. The Mandalorian is a day late. You’re seriously beginning to worry, but are trying really hard to not let Grogu catch on. 

Din knows he’s in trouble the moment he sees you outside. Not because he’s late or limping. Because you’re sitting on a big flag rock, smiling affectionately at where Grogu is pouncing on snails. He has the strange sensation of returning somewhere that's waiting to welcome him, of returning home.

 That drop in his stomach, that buzz in his chest tells him he’s in trouble. The kid has softened him so much more than he’d realized. Since when did Din desire a family? Worse, that faceless person caring for Grogu and giving him companionship is beginning to look a lot like you. Worst, he’s silently given up on the pursuit of your sister. You are just the latest way Naboo makes his job more difficult.

“Don’t let him eat too many of those. He won't stop until he throws them up,” Din says as he limps up to you.

You’re whipping around and standing in an instant. Relief washes over you, but worry still covers your face.

“Maker, I was afraid something happened,” you breathe as you look him up and down. 

“Sorry I’m late.”

“Are you okay?” you ask, clocking his limp.

“I’m fine. I just need to sit,” he grunts. 

Suddenly, you’re ducking under his arm, tossing it over your shoulders. You place your own arm around his waist, the beskar so cold it stings. He hisses when the pressure of your hand irritates a sore spot on his side. You loosen your hold.

“Sorry,” you mumble and start to guide him into the house.

Grogu scurries in at your ankles, looking up worriedly at his father. You help him to the nearest seat in the living room. He sighs in relief.

“Are you hurt? Do you need a doctor?” You hover over him, not sure what to do.

He shakes his head slowly.

“I’m fine, I swear. I’m just… bruised.” 

“Is there anything I can do?”

Din studies your features for a second. You're so incredibly kind it’s almost funny. It almost feels fake. He kind of feels like he could reach out right now and you would poof out of existence like a cloud.

“The cot,” he grunts.

You nod and quickly go to retrieve it. Once the coffee table is out of the way, you set it up. Din moves onto it, laying back. Trying to rest in his full get up looks uncomfortable, it always does.

“Let me help you get your armor off,” you say and reach toward his pauldron.

“No,” his hand shoots out, grabbing your wrist.

“Your flight suit and helmet can stay on, but all the external metal… I just think you'd rest easier without it,” you explain softly.

His gloved fingers remain around your wrist for a beat.

“Okay,” he agrees quietly.

You help him unfasten and take off the different bits of beskar. Piece by piece you peel back the Mandalorian’s shell, placing each shiny part gently on an empty seat. You even fold up his cape and hang the satchel that he had around him on the back of a chair. Din sighs once he’s able to fully settle back. It is a lot more comfortable without the armor. His helmet still props his neck at an awkward angle, but that's something he can deal with. It's something he has to deal with. 

“Will you tell me what happened to you, or are you going to just look at me silently from under that helmet like I can’t tell?” you ask, teasing lightly. 

Din is eternally grateful for the cover his helmet provides. His face is on fire and the helmet is swallowing the flames. 

“A Corellian welcome.”

You give him a look that says you aren't satisfied with that answer.

“I don't know what that means and you know it,” you cross your arms.

He does know it. Trying to circumvent the conversation, but appease you is a dirty Mandalorian trick. 

“Corellians say hello with their fists. They say hello harder when you’re after one of their friends,” he elaborates, hand crossing his body to brace his side at the memory of slamming into a table. 

“Remind me to never go there in my many travels.”

“I’ll do my best.”

You chuckle. Tension that you didn't know had gripped your shoulders eases. Sure, part of you was concerned because of Grogu. Both because you didn't want the kid to be an orphan and because you simply aren’t prepared to be a single parent. Watching the kid on your own for a couple days at a time at most? Sure. Permanent and sole responsibility? No. A bigger slice of the concern goes to the Mandalorian himself. 

He’s been by more than a dozen times at this point. Each time you find yourself sinking further and further. You're up to your knees in him. Wading through uncharted waters, unsure you’ll ever reach the dock on the other side. Yet, each minute spent in his presence pushes you forward. His care for Grogu, his stories, the way you can tell he’s growing more comfortable around you when he jokes back. All little glimmers of light beneath the surface below your knees. Glimmers that lead your way.

“Inside my bag, front left pocket,” he tells you.

“What?” you stare at him dubiously.

“There’s something in there. Grab it.”

Without another word you begin searching the soft leather bag. Grogu gurgles up at Din from beside the cot. Din drops a gloved hand over the side, allowing Grogu to take hold of it. The small gesture is what keeps gravity working on him, Din’s sure of it. All the aching, the soreness, eases with the assurance that Grogu is okay. Proof of that is his tiny grip around Din’s thick gloved finger.

“What is this?”

In your hand is a smooth square piece of fabric. The size makes you think of a bandana, but the material is soft. It has an almost liquid quality to it. The colors are beautifully pigmented. A rich blue, a pattern of small white fish dotted all over, and a golden trim. This piece of fabric is likely the nicest thing you’ve ever held in your life.

“It’s for you,” he says it like those three words explain everything.

“I- what?”

“It’s Corellian silk. Pieces that size are good for wrapping around your head. It keeps you cool, absorbs moisture, but stays soft,” he explains.

You can't tell if he’s peering at you through his visor. All you know is your mouth is slightly parted in awe. 

“I can’t possibly accept this.”

You begin to put it back, but he grunts in annoyance.

“Please.”

Your eyes bounce from the Corellian silk to the Mandalorian. It’s truly gorgeous and would do wonders when you’re painting on especially humid days. 

“I just wish I could thank you properly.”

“Just saying thank you is enough.”

You crack a small amused smile.

“I mean that I still don't know your name. Names are important to my people. I didn't want to push you, I know your people value boundaries and privacy.”

The Mandalorian is quiet for so long you begin to worry. He can tell by the way the silk wrinkles in your grip. Right when you open your mouth to apologize for crossing the line, he speaks again.

“Din. My name is Din.” 

A wide relieved smile breaks out on your face. Din is starting to think that of all the stunning landscapes and views Naboo has to offer, your smile is his favorite.

“Thank you, Din. It’s beautiful. I’ve never felt anything like it,” childlike wonder invades your tone, “I’ve never owned something so nice before.” 

He watches you fold the fabric into a triangle then tie it around your head. It covers your head from your hairline back, leaving what’s left of the length of your hair pouring out the back. When your hair is fully out of your face, Din’s breath hitches. 

He gets an unobstructed view of your features, no distractions. The curves of your cheekbones and nose create a smooth mountainous backdrop for the lush valley that is the rest of your features. Every inch of your face makes Din think of the flourishing environment of Naboo. Especially because, like many of the people around here, you have an ageless quality about you. Something that’s shared with the planet itself and its architecture. This moment convinces Din that every good thing Naboo has to offer has accumulated in the mountains, mixed together, and created you.

“You look good. Nice things suit you,” Din comments once all his breath comes back to him. 

You are acutely aware of the heat that climbs up your neck until it reaches the tips of your ears. A small, coy smile appears on your lips. 

“Thank you,” your voice comes out hushed, but you can tell he hears. 

Grogu begins a free solo up Din’s arm. It’s clear it causes Din pain with the way he tenses, but he doesn't do anything to stop the kid. He’s a little bit of a pushover for the pint sized menace, something that warms your heart. You quickly extract Grogu from Din’s arm, but not before he reaches his shoulder. Din relaxes when the weight and pressure of Grogu is lifted. Knowing the kid is now cooing and chirping in your arms provides an extra layer of relief. 

“Let’s let your dad rest, yeah?” You give Grogu raised eyebrows, looking for confirmation. 

Grogu’s ears lower in disappointment. Din really really likes when you call him Grogu’s dad. When you talk to the kid like his life is normal.

“I know we missed him, but we can terrorize him tomorrow,” your voice is honey like. 

The words hit Din in his chest. Almost as hard as that Corellian bartender. 

“You missed me, huh?” A smirk toys at the corners of his lips.

Maker knows this helmet has made it impossible for him to school his expression at this point. There are certainly some tricks you can't teach an old dog. How to not show every single thought on your face is definitely one of them. Not after a lifetime of not having to.

“Don’t get too smug, now. It’s not becoming,” you chide playfully. 

A deep chuckle rumbles through Din’s chest. It lasts a second before turning into a pained hiss.

“Din, you're clearly not okay. Let me get you some ice at least.”

He gives a curt nod. Din watches you go to the kitchen, grab a dish cloth, and start digging in the icebox. You plop some ice in the cloth and tie it all up into a makeshift ice pack. Grogu watches curiously from your hip the entire time.

When you offer the ice to Din, Grogu nuzzles further into you. It almost feels like he’s thanking you for caring for his dad. Din accepts the ice and holds it to the bottom of his rib cage. A moment of deep thought crosses your face as you watch him, unaware that beneath that helmet he’s watching you as well.

“Stop,” he says suddenly.

“Stop what?” you furrow your brows.

“Stop worrying over me. We’ll be gone by morning, you don't have to worry.”

You shake your head.

“No, I’m not worried about you being here. I’m worried about you leaving too soon and making this worse. I can talk to Melda at the Inn about letting you use a bed if the cot-”

“Right, I forgot how you people are.”

It’s the wrong thing to say, Din knows as soon as it's out. You bristle. If you had fur, he’s sure he’d be watching your hackles raise.

“How us people are?” You question.

“I didn't mean anything by it,” he tries to diffuse the situation.

He only adds fuel to the flames. You take his words as dismissive rather than explanatory. 

“There’s no way to say that and not mean anything by it. What exactly are my people like?” you're more forceful this time, demanding an answer from him. 

A real answer, not some vague Mandalorian partial truth.

“Kind.”

The answers causes you to pause. Any building anger halts, any budding snap response disappears, and confusion takes both their places. 

“Kind?”

“Yes, kind. Any other planet and I would have already been at the Inn, or my ship. The Grizmallti are known for treating their visitors like locals. You have a saying about it,” he explains. 

“Give to each child of Nabu as if you are giving to yourself,” you say softly.

“Mandalorians don’t have anything about giving. Mostly just taking. That's why I like it here.”

The thought is so incredibly comforting. Din likes being here because of the nature of you and your people, not despite it. You feel validated. What Din finds solace in is what drove Sola away. You can recall one of the last times you spoke to her. She spat venom when you attempted to reason with her Grizmallti roots. Scolded you for not living for yourself, for following the ways of Dee’ja Peak like a lemming. 

What she never understood is that you are living for yourself. You love your community, your way of life. Sure you’d like to expand your horizons. You'd like to explore the far reaches of the galaxy and see everything there is to see. Still, you always pictured yourself coming right back here when you’re done and continuing caring for those around you when you do so. There is nothing more fulfilling for you than caring about and for others. You have hope that if Din doesn't fully understand that now, he could in the future. 

“Have you ever thought about staying?” The question slips out before you can catch it.

“It’s not what we do.”

“What’s not?”

“Staying in one place.”

You simply nod. The silence gnaws at your ankles uncomfortably. You shift on your legs in an attempt to rid yourself of it. Grogu starts trying to climb up your torso. You chuckle as you let him. He clambers up until he’s holding onto your head and standing on your shoulder. You tilt your head to give him more room and reach up to steady him with your hands. Din watches fondly as the ice does its job.

“Have you ever thought about leaving?” he asks.

Your gaze snaps back over to him. A small, almost sad smile appears.

“All the time,” you admit.

“Why don’t you?” 

“It’s not that simple. Like you said, people don't leave here often.”

You lift Grogu off of your shoulder where he was playing with the silk on your head. The sun has fully set outside. Trilling can be heard through the windows from the bugs. You set Grogu into his pod. He lays back easily, pooped and ready for sleep. 

“That doesn't mean they don't leave at all,” Din points out gently. 

The pod shuts itself as Grogu drifts off. No doubt dreaming about those pesky snails. You finally allow yourself to sit, taking the seat beside where Din lays. 

“I suppose it doesn't,” you sigh.

“Why don't you?” He repeats his question.

You open and close your mouth a couple times with false starts. A frown settles in when you can't find an excuse that satisfies you.

“I don’t know… I’m scared, I guess.”

“Scared of what?”

“I’ve never been further than the river. I know it probably sounds silly to someone who travels for a living, but I’m afraid I won't make it home if I leave,” your voice is pillow soft and contemplative. 

Din takes a steadying inhale through his nose. Then he places a heavy gloved hand on your knee. As his heart pounds in his chest, he gives a comforting squeeze. 

“That’s not silly.”

You swallow the lump that’s suddenly in your throat. This is the first time you find yourself wishing you could see Din’s face. The beskar has always just been a part of him. Now that all of it but his helmet is shedded it fully hits you. There is someone underneath all that armor. Someone with skin that isn't blaster proof. Someone whose body is likely warm rather than icy to the touch. Someone whose face is looking at you, reassuring you, and making an expression you’ll never be able to see. Oh, how you long to see how he looks at you. 

“Thank you, Din.”

You place your hand over his. The material is rough to the touch, but it still comforts you. It’s still Din’s hand bridging a gap that’s never been bridged before. He’s offering a tender touch that you’ve only seen him give to Grogu.

“I’d ensure you make it home,” he states.

All you can do is blink at him for a moment. 

“What are you saying?” you ask it slowly, beating down the rising hope and heartbeat. 

“You can come with us. I’ll keep you safe.”

His voice is certain and unwavering. That hope you were beating down wins, bursting into your chest. The smile that grows on your face is blinding and breathtaking. Din has the terrifying thought that he would do whatever he can to make you continue smiling like that.

“Are you sure I won’t slow you down?”

“I already travel with a child. You’ll be easy.”

You nod enthusiastically. Dank farrik, Din must be absolutely melting in his helmet. There’s no other reason his brain is short circuiting like this.

“I guess this way you don't have to come all the way back to Nabu to bring me gifts,” you tease. 

Another circuit in Din’s brain pops.

“That’s one way of looking at it.”

“Where would we go first?” 

“Mos Eisley first, then wherever the bounty takes us.”

“Mos Eisley?” You ask feeling just a bit stupid.

“Tatooine.”

You nod thinking of what to pack. Tatooine is a desert planet, but you’ll be going to places of all temperatures and weather. At the same time, you don't want to pack too heavy. How are you going to fit all your art supplies into a bag? Will there even be room on his ship?

“My easel and supplies, will there be room? I suppose I can always just stick to sketching and paint when I get back,” you mumble the end to yourself.

“Don’t worry, I’ll make room.”

A small gesture that carries such big implications for how you’ll fit into his life from here on out. Din will no longer be entering your space. You won't be the one adjusting and making room. He will. Din is going to alter everything about his life so you can fit neatly in it. 

“Y’know, that’s the first time you’ve told me not to worry that actually made me stop worrying,” you muse. 

“You worry too much.”

His hand squeezes your knee further. 

“It’s hard not to with you two around,” you tease with a playful smile.

You can't hear it, but you can see the light chuckle move in his chest. 

“You should hit the rack. Big day tomorrow,” Din says softly.

He gives your knee one last squeeze before removing it. Your knee is suddenly cold. Din misses the warmth he was able to barely feel through his glove. He wonders how warm you are without the glove.

“Big day, indeed.”

***

You don't mention saying goodbye to any family the next morning. Din doesn't ask. If your sister is any indication, family is likely a sore topic. You hug various people as you walk to Dee’ja Port. Din recognizes Gus, who sends you away with a basket of bread and a firm order not to forget to eat. Another person you introduce as Luka gives you a bottle of spotchka. Then Melda, the woman Din spoke to at the Inn, shoves over a rolled up blanket. It seems to be made of every hue in a Naboo sunset and woven together with thick soft yarn. He watches your eyes widen.

“Melda, you must need this. I can't take it,” you say and attempt to hand it back.

Melda shakes her head and holds her hand up to stop you.

“We have plenty. I want you to have a piece of home with you when you need it. Nothing more Dee'ja Peak than one of my blankets,” she insists.

You give her an extra tight hug. When you set off again you explain to Din that the blanket is one used on the beds in the Inn. Melda hand makes them. She sells them during festivals and sometimes even takes commissions. They’re expensive, though. They take a lot of work and material. Her giving you one is a heart swelling gesture. 

All in all it takes the two of you twenty-five minutes to make the ten minute walk to Dee’ja Port. Every few buildings someone is stopping you to give you a hug and wish you well. Din and Grogu watch in silent awe at the sheer amount of love you are showered with on your way out. 

Dee’ja Port houses four bays and cheap docking. The Razor Crest is sitting in the furthest bay. He leads you to her, telling you what she’s called. It feels like he’s nervously introducing you to a family member. You give him a warm smile that you then direct to the Crest. You place a gentle hand on the side of her body.

“It’s the best thing I’ve ever seen,” you hum.

Din chuckles, drawing your attention.

“She’s a piece of garbage, but she’s our piece of garbage,” he says.

He helps you to secure your things in the cargo hold. Priority is to take off, then you can figure out where exactly everything will go. It’s strange imagining him existing in this space. While you can see him in the way everything is organized, there’s nothing else that feels like Din. 

From the cargo hold you pass the small living quarters and climb up into the cockpit. You sit to Din’s right, Grogu on your lap. Grogu coos and reaches out to the left. When you follow his little hand you find your drawings on the back wall. The one you drew of Din and Grogu that first morning and the silly little crayon sketch. Your face heats up.

“I didn't think you hung them up,” you comment. 

Din glances at you then over his other shoulder. 

“Oh- the-,” he clears his throat a little, “the kid really likes them.” 

You smile as Din faces forward. Din swears his beskar must be red and gooey with how hot his skin is. 

“Awe, you like my drawings, Grogu?” you coo down at the kid. 

He looks up at you with his ears perked up, gurgling. 

“I’m glad because there’s only going to be more,” you say, eyes darting up to where Din is flipping switches and pressing buttons. 

Grogu coos happily. The Crest roars to life, causing you to jump a bit.

“Sorry,” Din mumbles as he continues readying the ship. 

When the ship starts to move it really sinks in. You’re leaving Dee’ja Peak. You’re leaving Nabu. Din looks at you over his shoulder. You can see your reflection in his visor, wide eyed and anxious.

“Ready?” Din asks.

You take a deep breath.

“As I’ll ever be.”

Din nods and looks forward again. Another few flips and clicks then the ship is off. As you leave your home and everyone you know behind, your eyes stay glued on the beskar-clad man in front of you. You watch him open up an entire galaxy of possibilities to you for no reason other than the desire to do so. The blue of the atmosphere gives way to an endless expanse of stars, but you’re sure the brightest of them all is in this cockpit with you.

Hello luv 💞 so I was listening to Lover's Oath and I had a thought,,, what if Huxian/Fox God! Reader has been with Zhongli even before the war, they fought by his side and after the War they got together but reader hasn't shaken off from their mind Zhongli's look of anguish and loss when Guizhong died in his arms. Reader decides that it might be better if Guizhong was there instead of them, so reader finds someone who could bring her back,,, imagine theres a scene where Zhongli and Guizhong looks at each other through the crowd, not noticing that reader smiles bitterly within the crowd and heads home to pack and leave Liyue, reader still feels happy for both of them. BUTTTTT Zhongli really loves reader, not Guizhong, she really was just his close friend. Imagine how shocked he'd be when he comes home earlier to tell reader the news and he catches them in her big fox form with luggage in mouth, about to leave. I'm feeling an angst to fluff kind of story if you don't mind d request,,,

Who you pretend I am

(Zhongli x fellow god! gn! reader)

ANON U ARE SO BIG BRAINED <3 Your ideas... CHEFS KISS <3 I had to do a LOT of research on Chinese mythology and genshin lore cus...that hole is deep, but I hope I did your idea justice!! Im ngl i was tearing up writing this--- title was inspired by "Wahing machine heart" by Mitski because I started thinking about the lyrics a lot as I wrote this

Length: 6. 8 k

Genre: Angst with a happy ending

cw: mentions of violence and blood, character death (not reader) and self-deprecating feelings

It is said that long before the archon wars raged across the land - long before the god Morax became the revered Rex Lapis, even preceding the connection of the Lord of Geo and Ruler of Clouds, another soul resided beside the Geo archon.

A young adeptus was all Morax had been, a spirit guided by lust for glory and violence - brute force with no wit to match. That was what he had been when you first met him, teasing him playfully as you tricked the young god.

A dragon born of rock and a fox descending from the goddess who presides over life and death - an unlikely pair to say the least. You had laughed and teased the young Morax, whose anger created rifts in the newborn and smooth-faced earth as he chased your flickering form, morphing from shape to shape to confuse him further.

"Quit pestering me!" he'd snapped, his sharp talons digging into the ground as he glowered up at your form - stretched out on the branches above the tree he'd been resting under. You simply laughed - an enchanting sound magical enough to put anyone under its spell, you'd been told, and allowed your tail to flick his nose, a fond smirk upon your features.

"I'll stop once you prove you're no longer a child, Morax. It's simply so much fun to watch your childish tantrums," you teased, quickly moving your tail out of the way as he attempted to slash at it with his clawed hands.

And he did prove it - centuries passed, you teasing, but on many an occasion also aiding him - and he was to become known as the Lord of Geo. Your teasing slowly relented, becoming an occasional friendly jab that he had learned to deflect easily. The day had come, when you bowed to him, acknowledging his growth as a god.

That day, both sat under the forest that had bloomed around the lone tree you oh so long ago played under, he had asked you to become his right hand.

You stretched in the sun, your tails spread around you as you soaked in the warmth. With a teasing flick of a tail, you smirked. "I've always been that, Morax."

Battles were fought, lands created - all with you by his side. Serving as the brains to his brawn for the longest time. While his powers could shatter boulders and bones, yours could wreck minds and hearts - it was a successful conjoined effort of two spirits in separate forms that intertwined.

You had met Guizhong with Morax - the two of you wandering the fields when you came across the beautiful goddess. She introduced herself as Guizhong, the Ruler of Clouds, the Lord of Dust - and on the spot - amidst the beautiful wild glaze lilies, she gifted Morax a stone dumbbell she called Memory of Dust.

"I propose we form an allience, Morax, Lord of Geo," she spoke delicately, a smile upon her gentle features. "You are strong and powerful - and I am neither of those, but what I do excel in, is strategy." "You have a deal, Guizhong, Ruler of Clouds," Morax spoke with a smile of his own and you watched from the sidelines, eager and hopeful for a prosperous future for all three of you.

Later, that night, twirling a glaze lily in his hands - hands that destroyed so easily - he turned to you. "You approve of joining forces with Guizhong, don't you?"

You laughed, ruffling his hair with a clawed hand.

"You could use some brains to back up that empty head of yours - of course I approve!" You teased him playfully, and the gentle smile he sent your way warmed your old heart.

Soon enough, Morax and Guizhong enlisted the help of Marchosius, Patron God of the Soil and Stove - and Guili Assembly was forged from empty fields over the course of centuries, a flourishing nation in pursuit of knowledge. The four of you grew close - your love for the kind and gentle Guizhong becoming that of a sibling - she was the wise and balanced member of your group, always managing to bring about a calmness when turmoil threatened to arrive.

You watched happily, as Morax, a childish firecracker of a dragon once, matured more as a ruler - co-operating beside Guizhong in perfect harmony. The adepti that Morax had taken rule over answered to her every beck and call, and soon, your close friends became closer still without your presence.

It was bittersweet, watching Cloud Retainer, another old friend of yours, set up dinners for Guizhong, herself and Morax - it started off as a simple gesture of goodwill, but became a longstanding tradition you wished not to impede on. You were happy, of course, that the ones closest to you could find joy in each other's company - but still, a heart's a heavy burden that only grows heavier over time.

You laid upon a large bolder, your many tails keeping your figure warm in the cool night as you watched the skies above with Moon Carver for company. He was a gentle, nurturing presence on nights you felt most alone. Strumming your sharpened nails upon the bolder, your gaze slipped to the peaks of Mt. Aocang, upon which you could see the faintest glow of light. You sighed.

"You are unusually quiet upon this dark night. One is concerned over your wellbeing," he spoke, his bellowing voice steering your longing gaze from the peaks of the mountain. You smiled bitterly.

"I'm perfectly alright, Moon Carver, but I do appreciate the concern," you replied distantly, your thoughts drifting away with the gentle wind once more. With the softest of thuds and grace gifted to nimble foxes, you hopped off the boulder and stretched.

"I'm going to go get some rest, good night, old friend," you bid the adeptus farewell and he bowed his head in response, a knowing glint in his wise eyes.

Your wandering feet led you amidst the lands of Guili plains, taking in the sights before you shrouded in a veil of darkness. You sighed quietly as you took note of the large Ballista perched atop Mt. Tianheng. The most marvelous creation of your close companions Cloud Retainer and Guizhong. You climbed closer to it in silence and slid your fingers gently across the smooth wood it was constructed of.

You were happy to have such clever friends - truly. Friends whose wisdom did not rely upon trickery and metamorphosis as your did - friends who were of much use when it came to more strategic matters of battle. You placed your forehead against the wooden weaponry, having no fear it would attack you - it was constructed to protect the people, gods and adepti of the Guili Assembly after all. The cool wooden surface soothed a lingering ache within you.

Morax deserved companions such as the two masterminds behind the invention. He had grown much as a god, and you were certain, that with the help of Guizhong, he could grow more still.

The archon war was a cruel and unjust massacre - leaving gods of all status to fight tooth and nail for the seven seats reserved for those that Celestia deemed worthy. The soil of Teyvat was watered with blood of divine and mortal origin alike and no one was safe from the battlefields of the hunger for power.

Of course, you and the adepti, the Lord of Dust and God of Stove backed Morax in his conquest to secure one of those seats. Morax was an ancient being already compared to many of the gods that fought. Guizhong provided your troops with valuable strategies and you were quick to clutch the hilt of your blade in your clawed hands, baring your sharp teeth at your enemies as you charged into battle alongside your oldest living companion - Morax.

Yes. Blood flowed in rivers and no one could be safe from the paralyzing pain of loss, when it came to the gruesome battles you fought it, desperate to live - desperate to win.

"When I secure a seat amongst the seven - our people will thrive," Morax said with a stern expression set upon his stony face, facing you and Guizhong as he gripped his Vortex Vanquisher tightly, his tail moving swiftly from side to side.

Quizhong nodded slowly.

"We have no choice but to fight anyway - every being of higher status is out for blood," she agreed. You could not help but agree, despite knowing the needless blood that must be shed in your future endeavors.

Oh how you wished this cursed war had not taken place at all.

That you and your companions could have been spared of the pains of it.

"(Name), watch out!" you heard Morax' voice call out for you as you removed your blade from the slain body of a fellow god. You turned towards him swiftly, your ears pinned to your head. It all happened in a blur - a heavy claymore swung at you in the blink of an eye - ready to slash you open and drain you of life.

In that frightening moment, time itself seemed to slow down as your eyes locked onto the amber hue glowing in Morax's gaze, his face twisted in a desperate scream.

And then, you hit the ground.

But no pain penetrated your body other than the slight sting of your side making contact with the ground.

When your eyes darted to your right - that was when the pain arrived.

Excruciating, deep and unbearable pain, as you saw Guizhong bleeding out on the ground beside you, having taken the hit for you.

You could only watch in paralyzed sorrow as the enemy raised his weapon once more to descend it upon your fragile state - only to crumble to the ground as a spear shot through his heart with angry precision, dimming the life from his war-hungry gaze in a single moment.

You watched Morax's polearm clatter onto the earth, stained with blood as he surged forward, falling to his knees beside a bleeding Guizhong and swooping her weak, limp figure into his arms.

You felt wetness upon your cheeks, soon followed by your vision blurring as tears freely flowed from your eyes, crumbling any semblance of the façade of a strong warrior you had donned.

"Guizhong?" you heard Morax mutter in desperation as his attempted to stop the blood from oozing out of the wound in her torso, his hands glistening with a mix of hers and the enemy's blood. Weakly, you crawled towards them, your body shaking as you watched the two - grief wrapping you within its clutches as you saw Guizhong send Morax a weakened smile, her eyes slowly glazing over.

The skies wept in darkness along with you, glaze lilies stained in blood surrounding the three of you as a gentle breeze danced amongst them.

"It seems our journey together has come to an end, my friend," Guizhong whispered to Morax, her breathing getting slower as she gently patted his hand, the hand pressing down on her wound in an attempt to stop the flow of life oozing out of her.

She glanced at you with a sad smile - a smile of a loving friend, something so gentle and sweet.

"Morax," she turned to him again, and with trembling lips and shaking hands, his eyes met hers.

"Forget about the dumbbell," she told him. "No contract needs to mark our friendship," were her final words as her soul was swept away by the gentle breeze, carrying it to distant, hopefully kinder lands.

You could never forget the look upon Morax's face as his hand clutched the limp, gentle hand of Guizhong's body, a single tear rolling down his face as he shook with grief - a look of utter anguish and suffering that you had never seen him wear - not once in the long years you had known him for. A look of a grieving lover - pain of a love lost.

In anger, fuelled by grief, the war kept on - Morax mercilessly vanquished his enemies with a fury behind his actions - his pillars crushing and piercing all those that stood in his way. You fought by his side, quietly grieving alongside him - your only comfort being each other after battles were won and night had fallen.

"(Name)?" he approached your room in your temporary abode quietly, his expression exhausted and crestfallen as he stood in your doorway, all the anger from the battle fought gone, leaving behind only a desperate, grieving husk threatening to crumble before you like a pile of rocks. You surged forward, extending your hand to him quickly, your eyes wide. You'd never seen him like this before the death of your beloved friend, never seen him so out of it as he slowly took steps towards you and pulled you close, wrapping his strong arms, arms that had shed so much blood, around your figure, resting his face in the crook of your neck.

You shook as you returned the embrace, holding him tight in painful silence as the two of you mourned, the air heavy with an itching pain that refused to fade.

That had been the first time of many that Morax came to you in such a state, seeking out your comfort and allowing you to see him in such a vulnerable and broken state. You took him in each time, running your hands through his hair and gently stroking his horns as tears flowed down your face, shedding enough of them for the both of you.

You wept each night as you watched the wilting glaze lilies in your vase, recalling the tender gaze the two had been locked in before Guizhong's life drained away.

You wished it had been you, who had died. You - who the blow had been intended for, who had died.

The Guili Assembly crumbled - all the hard work you had strained to achieve - gone in the throes of cruel war. You watched Morax, his face set in a heavy expression, as he gathered up all that was left of the people of Guili, and began to guide them towards new land - new lands where they could prosper. You followed him, doing all you could to aid him.

The forest that once bloomed, the tree you had made your first pact under - it was all left in ashes and still-glowing embers of fire. Destroyed like all else the two of you had loved.

It had been many years since the death of Guizhong, and the war was nearing its bitter end. Morax claimed his throne as the Archon of Geo, rightfully so - but the pain never eased through all of it.

"(Name)," he whispered, his smouldering eyes staring into yours as you stood within the ashes of where he once asked you to become his right hand.

"(Name)...I must admit, my feelings for you go beyond friendship," he told you calmly, a tired look upon his beautiful face.

"We are entering a new era - an era of Archons, and I would be honored, if you'd grace me with the opportunity to enter it with you by my side. By my side as my companion, my right hand, my lover."

Tears threatened to spill from your eyes as you ran into his arms, burying your face in his neck as you nodded, unable to speak in the moment. You should have felt happy - overjoyed, even, that the millennia of pining was not unrequited, yet you could not help but feel like a traitor.

You felt it was Guizhong, who deserved to hold Morax in her loving embrace, whose lips sealed the contract of her love to the Archon - who stood beside him as his lover and advisor as he built up the nation of Liyue with calloused, tired hands. Hands so tired of the blood they had shed - eyes filled with grief and regret as he built upon the ruins of the war, watching people prosper and forget the suffering he had endured for them.

And yet - you loved him. Perhaps you were selfish, but you accepted his declaration of love for you and bound yourself to him even stronger than before, willing to be the pillar of support he needed when grief threatened to tear him down. Willing to replace Guizhong, to be what she had been destined for - your only hope being that you did not let Morax down.

Centuries and millennia passed, the war long ended and the seven seats claimed by the strongest survivors of its cruelty. Liyue - the nation Morax raised lovingly from the bloodied soils beneath it, had become the capital of trade and contracts.

Morax had become Rex Lapis. The God of War had grown to become that of contracts, and the world had healed itself, its wounds were still there, but scarred over - pain subduing over time.

"Look at you now," you let out a bittersweet laugh as you watched Morax sat at his desk, delved deep into his analysis of the commerce system, already preparing for the next year's Rite of Descension as the people of Liyue had come to call it. His yearly gift of knowledge for aiding them in conquering the world with the iron fist of trade.

He peeked up at you through his dark lashes, a tender warmth to his ochre-colored eyes.

"What do you mean?" he asked, a soft smile resting upon his lips as he stood from his seat.

"All sophisticated and wise now - I bet no one would believe me if I told them what a petulant child you once were," you teased, reaching out your hand gently, using your long nails to tuck a strand of hair behind his ear.

"Mm.." he grumbled, placing a gentle hand upon your waist and drawing you closer gently.

"And I bet no one would believe me either, were I to announce that the Qíngrén Rex Lapis holds so dear was an unrelenting bully in their youth," he replied, brushing his nose against yours in a gentle display of affection.

"I wouldn't be so sure," with a smirk, you tugged at his tie gently, loosening it from round his neck and snatching it away. You quickly twirled out of his grasp, holding the silky item up proudly.

"I'd say I'm still quite the unrelenting bully, my dear Morax."

He allowed a rare laugh to emerge from his chest, rumbling warmly as he watched you fondly, crossing his arms.

"Perhaps you're right, (Name)."

Sometimes, late into the night, you wandered the halls of your luxurious shared abode, recalling the events of times long gone. Your walls were decorated with many luxuries - far too many of them trophies of a war bathed in blood and grief. Still, there was always one item you would stand before in silent grief - tears long shed, but the pain still as piercing as the sharp edge of the Jade weapon.

You remembered when Morax sat up late into the night, carving away at it with a rare serene expression, shreds of jade coating his lap and the ground around him as he worked relentlessly on the creation.

"What are you working on?" you asked one such night, taking a seat beside him as you watched him with glowing eyes, watched the blade he was carving away at carefully and tenderly.

"A gift."

You raised your brows, a smirk upon your lips.

"Oh?"

"For Quizhong. The Primordial Jade Cutter - is what I'll name it."

You could not help but feel your ears droop at his words.

"I'm sure she'll love it once she receives it," you said with a longing smile, sliding your fingers against it's blade gently before rising to your feet and sauntering away, your tails flickering behind you in a forced display of pleased satisfaction.

You watched the gift left ungiven, encased in glass on display. You recalled when Morax, dripping with the anger of grief, picked up the newly finished sword and rushed into battle clutching it - cutting down countless enemies.

Despite that, the green glow it emitted was still that of a brand-new blade - truly a pure and beautiful blade carved with the utmost care and affection.

Some nights you were a bit more bitter over it - not once in the centuries you'd known Morax, not even the ones where you shared tender kisses and embraces, had he gifted anything like that to you - nothing carved with his own hands - once wrathful and brutal, forced to be gentle as they poured over a gift from the heart.

On those nights, you would slip out of your abode and wander the streets of Liyue, feeling weighed down with guilt for your selfish feelings. Every time, you managed to end up on Yuijing terrace, watching the glaze lilies growing within the carefully planned flowerbeds. They were no longer the wild lilies of Guizhong - the last of those had withered away long ago - but they were the closest to it. On those nights, you'd caress the petals with a somber expression, letting unvoiced apologies linger in your mind before returning back home, Morax seemingly none the wiser to your comings and goings, immersed in his work.

"Are you sure about this?" you asked somberly as you finished listening to Morax's plan of stepping down as an Archon. Giving up the seat that you had shed so much blood to attain. The seat that signified loss of a life too precious and gentle - whisked away by the wind in the form of the dust she presided over.

Morax nodded, squeezing your hands gently in his. His horns and tail long hidden as he assumed a more human form. Something you had followed him in doing, faithful to follow him wherever he led you.

"Then I will do my best to aid you, my dear."

And so you did. Your powers were those of shapeshifting, of morphing items into something anew and tricking others with the ease and grace of a leaping feline.

The Exuvia was more than convincing enough for the crowds below, and even you, despite being the one to conjure it up, could not help the tinge of fear within you as you watched this copy of your beloved plummet into the ground with an ungraceful thud. You hoped sincerely you would never have to see such a vision come to life in reality - you had long since set aside your weapons, but you would not hesitate to grab them again to protect the few loved ones you still had left.

Zhongli was now the name Morax donned - assuming the position of a consultant in the Wangsheng Funeral Parlor, providing graceful and wise advice to all that required it. It was a fitting position, you bemused - a work surrounded by grief that the both of you still wore heavily upon your hearts.

Sometimes, you visited him to bring him lunch or anything else you thought he might require - like the dutiful spouse everyone assumed you to be. You supposed the word was not quite far from the truth, but your union was far more than that. Still, mortals could not comprehend the strength of such bonds, so you settled for a smile and a nod when asked if you were there to visit your husband.

On occasion, you could hear him tell customers the tales of the war, an expert storyteller as he was. Not once did he fail to mention the gentle and kind Guizhong, a far-off look in his eyes as he recalled her memory fondly.

It was moments like those that you felt the pain hit deepest. Moments when you wished that it had been you who had been struck down as fate had intended it to. Guizhong had meddled with fate, had brought eons of unhappiness and sorrow upon you and Zhongli.

You wondered, sometimes, when Zhongli brushed his lips against yours tenderly, his eyes closed and his hands gently cupping your face, if he thought so too. If he wished, on nights alone as he allowed the bitter memories to wash over him, that your lifeline had been severed that fateful day.

Of course, you knew he would never admit to such thoughts, he wouldn't even admit them to himself, you were sure - but a mind could still wonder. Especially when he stood before the Jade blade encased in glass, a distant look upon his features.

It hurt.

And you felt selfish for hurting, when it had been your own carelessness that had brought this pain upon you and Zhongli both.

You could no longer stand it. No longer stand the wistful gaze in Zhongli's eyes as he spoke of Guizhong to the Traveler, as he recalled the times he dined with her and Cloud Retainer and as he praised the memory of her wits and the gentleness of her pure soul.

You decided you would do anything to right the wrong you had been living within for far too long.

You turned to research, to prayers dedicated to Celestia - to anything that might help you achieve your goal of bringing back the dear friend you had allowed to wither away and flow away as nothing more than particles of dust.

Countless days, weeks, months passed - and if Zhongli noticed the distance you put between the two of you, he failed to mention it. Perhaps he even enjoyed the space you finally gave him. After all, it had been you who had refused to leave him be since the beginning of time.

Perhaps if you had not stuck to his side like an incessant thorn, Guizhong would be by his side, holding his hand and bathing in his kisses.

Your efforts did not go to waste. You stood upon the empty Guili plains, the moon above lighting the ruins of what once was a great civilization. Your hands were clasped together in prayer as you sank to your knees, allowing the coolness of the ground to seep into your bones as you pleaded quietly for reprieve.

Celestia finally answered your call, sending down an envoy cloaked in shimmering stardust - radiating with energy far more divine than that of your own.

"Little fox," the envoy spoke, their voice light but holding the weight of knowledge and power within it.

"Your pleas have not gone unheard and what you ask is not impossible to achieve," they spoke and you stared up at them in awe, feeling a flicker of hope within your chest.

"Quizhong has rested long enough in the embrace of Celestia - and we are sure she would not mind returning home."

You felt as though you could float, a happiness coated in pain washing over you.

"But tell me, little fox - do you believe truly that you are undeserving of your lot in life?"

You blinked away tears and nodded.

"You are foolish, little fox - but your wish will be granted. Celestia simply hopes you will overcome your blindness and learn to see the truth of your worth."

You cared not for the meaning behind those words - all that mattered was that Guizhong would make her return. You swallowed bitter, selfish tears as you already pictured your beloved in the arms of another - the one he deserved to have. The one you had forced him to say goodbye to.

The sun beamed down upon the harbor with a happiness and warmth that you had not felt in far too long. You browsed the marketplace in silence, maneuvering the crowds as you gathered ingredients for the dinner you had planned that very evening. It had been a while since your talk with the envoy of Celestia - but you knew better than to doubt the promises of those above you, so you were patiently biding your time until the return of your beloved friend.

You hummed a gentle tune to yourself, idly wondering what Zhongli was doing - was he still busy with work, or was he ready to take a lunch break? You thought it best to buy him a little meal and began to wade through the busy streets to approach the funeral parlor, only to be stopped in your tracks as you saw a familiar face within the sea of people.

A beautiful face, with eyes wise beyond the years of its apparent youth, flowing long hair set into a beautifully simple updo and an an air of elegance that could only belong to one. You stared in awe at her beauty - the glaze lilies set into her hair and crowning her in angelic glory as she almost seemed to float through the crowds - they're all but the clouds she ruled over wisely as she studied her surroundings with a curious joy.

You felt tears of joy well up in your eyes as you saw her.

Celestia had granted your wish.

You wished to dash through the crowds, to run into her arms and shower her in endless apologies and affection - but when you searched the ever flowing sea of people, your eyes froze on another familiar figure.

Dark hair set in a low ponytail - perfectly ironed coat and an air of impeccable neatness and perfection coating him. You saw him - saw as his eyes locked with those of the beautiful goddess. You saw the way a warm recognition washed over his stony face - his lips forming a wide smile upon his face as he surged forward.

You tried to suppress the selfish sadness brimming in your heart and eyes, the tears gently rolling down your cheeks as you saw two friends united at last - arms wrapping around each other in a tender embrace.

You knew very well when you were not needed - so you turned quietly and headed back towards your abode, a firm yet difficult decision made in your mind.

You had pretended to be someone you were not for far too long - it was time you made yourself scarce. You ignored the concerned glances of the citizens you passed as you walked - more like staggered - towards the place you had called home for a long time. Of course people would talk, would gossip about the spouse of the beloved Zhongli's spouse walking home in tears before shortly disappearing from Liyue, leaving behind a smitten consultant and a new companion of his.

You simply hoped they'd be kind to Guizhong. Humans were far too simple at times.

Zhongli rushed towards the abode he shared with his beloved carelessly, an uncharacteristic joy to his movements as he waded through people, eager to share the wonderful news with them.

He had ran into Guizhong's arms, her soothing aura washing over him as he simply asked her how. She had known no more than him - only that Celestia had deemed her worthy of returning to the lands of the living.

He cared not for the specifics - one of the closest friends he had had was back - and he could not wait to share the news. He had made her wait for him - him and (Name) at Third-Round Knockout, promising her that they could all once again share a meal together as friends and companions.

"Have you finally made your move, Morax?" Guizhong asked, a sly smile upon her innocent features.

He chuckled.

"I suppose I have."

"Good. I feared you'd be too much of a coward too, Lord of Geo."

When he arrived to his abode it was quiet - eerily so. No aroma of simmering food lingered in the air, and there was a strange emptiness in the rooms as he wandered in, a few objects missing here and there.

A quiet dread arose in his chest.

"(Name)?" he called out, his brows furrowed as he felt a surge of panic within him - a panic he had only felt once before, when his beloved was to be slashed by a long gone god aiming to end their life.

There was no answer.

He rushed through the rooms of his luxurious abode, cold sweat forming upon his body as he reached their shared bedroom. The door was slightly ajar, and he could hear a faint muffled sniffle coming from within.

Slowly, he pushed the door open, stepping into the room.

You had taken on your animal form, tails curled around yourself protectively and your ears pinned back in a display of sadness - the air heavy with emotions he had not seen or felt you experience in eons - your home usually filled with gentle harmony.

He swallowed heavily as he saw the bag before you, filled with the few items you cared for - to take with you as a shard of memories to remind you of the years you had spent with Zhongli - with Morax. A last act of selfishness you allowed yourself.

"(Name)?" he quietly addressed you, his voice strained as he watched what was you undoubtedly preparing to leave - without a word to him, no less.

You whipped around, your eyes wide as you met his.

"Zhongli," you whispered shakily, ashamed to be caught in the act.

"Where are you going..?" he questioned, his eyes glued to your belongings and eyes filled with an unfamiliar desperation.

"I don't know, yet," you answered, lowering your gaze to the wooden floor below your paws.

He approached gently, crouching before you as he reached out his hand to stroke your face.

"Why?" his voice was small, desparate.

He had only just regained a companion - only to lose his lover the very next moment? Was the world truly that unjust?

"I didn't want to be in the way of you and Guizhong," you replied, looking away with a bitter tinge of sadness to your voice.

"You know she's back?"

"I was the one who demanded Celestia return her to you."

He stared at you in both shock and awe.

"What do you mean you didn't want to be in the way?" he asked slowly, feeling dread rise within his chest once more as his voice cracked.

Without fanfare, you assumed your more human form once more, your eyes watering and clumping together your wet lashes, blurring your vision as you tried to find the words to explain your feelings - feelings buried under centuries, wars and carefully constructed facades - all crumbling before the man you had always loved.

"I...saw how you looked at her - back then I mean." More tears rolled across your face as the dam finally broke.

Stupid, treacherous, selfish tears.

He was eerily quiet as he watched you crumble before him, you who had always kept his spirits high when he was in pain, always knew what to say or do to soothe him. However, he realized in a horrifying moment - he had no idea what to say to you.

"You loved her. And it was my fault she died," you hiccupped, letting go of any pride you may have held.

Your teary eyes met his - scared and filled with emotion you could not quite decipher.

"(Name)-"

You shook your head, forcing yourself to smile bitterly - it was a pathetic sight and you were well aware of it, but you could do little else to reign in the pain.

"I was supposed to die that day - and I would have gladly done so. I always wished I did - and I know you would never admit it, but you did too."

His hands clutched your shoulders suddenly, shaking as he gripped them tight.

"(Name) - that's not true," he spoke sternly, choosing to ignore the way his own voice wavered.

You let out a sound - a mix between a sob and a laugh as you stared into his eyes.

"Don't lie to me, Morax. I've known you longer than anyone - you should not attempt to deceive the god of trickery." You inhaled and exhaled shakily.

"I never deserved your affection - I was selfish in accepting it. I knew you wanted me to be her - you've never looked at anyone else like you looked at her. But I was selfish, and I was hurting too. I'm sorry for using you like that."

His brows furrowed as the weight of your words hit him - crashing into him like the boulders he had used to destroy his enemies with a fierce anger.

"It's you who has tricked yourself, (Name)." His gloved hand stroked your face gently, wiping at the streams of tears flowing across it aimlessly as he stared into your eyes.

"I've never loved Guizhong," he muttered, placing his forehead against yours as his mind frantically searched for the right words to say - the words that could soothe the pain of the burden you had been carrying in your heart for far too long.

"Not more than a close friend."

You stared into his eyes, sniffling.

"But..."

"Have you really been blind to the way my heart beats only for you - after the thousands of years we have known you?" He pulled you close, burying your face in his clothed chest, ignoring the way your tears soaked through the pristine cloth of his suit and shirt.

"I..."

"Guizhong was the one who had to listen to my incessant ramblings about how beautiful and wonderful you were, the one who kept trying to make me tell you. But I was foolish and stubborn. It took her death to make me realize that within a bling of an eye - I could lose you too. I almost did - that day," his words conveyed more emotion than you had heard him do in all the time you had known him. He had buried it deep down, hoping he could show them, instead - but he had failed in that, as well.

He buried his face in your hair, taking in a shaky breath and inhaling your scent - you, who smelled like home. Like comfort, like love.

You were in stunned silence.

Had you really been blind to the truth all this time? You who had prided yourself in seeing past facades and being able to deceive anyone at will. Had you willingly deceived yourself, hiding the truth?

"But she's a far better match for you than I could ever hope to be," you whispered, your voice muffled by his chest. You felt him tense.

He pulled away, cupping your face with a desperation you had only seen once before.

"You are a fool, (Name), if you think anyone would be a better match for me than you," he sighed, wishing he could simply bare his heart and show you all that he felt in his old, guarded heart.

"I strived to become stronger for you. I learned to reign in my temper, for you. Everything I did - I hoped it would impress you - from the very moment we met."

In that moment, with those words pouring from his lips, he was a young adeptus once more, chasing the fleeting and teasing attention of a fox god who called him immature.

You stretched out your hand towards his face hesitantly, resting your warm palm upon his cheek. He pressed it against your hand, an earnest youthful glow in his old, wise eyes.

"I love you, and only you, (Name). And I always have, you silly fox."

You released another choked laugh infused with a whimper, sniffling as you attempted to control the stupid tears flowing from your eyes.

"Morax... I feel so foolish, now," you whispered, a sniffle caught in your throat as you lowered your head, hand slipping from his face into your lap.

"I'm the fool for not realizing how you felt sooner. All this time, you'd been thinking lowly of yourself - and I never even took note." He sighed and pressed your figure closer to himself.

"I suppose we're both a couple of old, bitter fools, then."

He huffed in amusement, tickling the strands of your hair in doing so.

"I suppose we are," he sighed, pressing a gentle kiss upon your forehead when your face emerged from his face to look up at him, eyes still red and puffy.

You closed your eyes, allowing them reprieve from the crying. You felt a wave of exhaustion wash over you as Zhongli leaned down to capture your lips with his own, his touch ever so gentle as he stroked your face, wiping away the last remains of tears still lingering upon your face.

"I love you," you whispered as you opened your eyes.

He smiled at you - a smile he had never before allowed another but you to witness - sweet, vulnerable and full of thousands of years of adoration.

"I love you too, my dear."

This one was really fun to write! I read SO much genshin lore for this and I feel like I def missed some things, but I tried my best. Relationships are complicated, man. And writing this made me Feel Things. I hope you guys enjoy this one, though!!

wednesday as anime 🖤🕷️🕸️

Little ghaseball copia bc I’m still not over him 💖🖤

the ocean's daughter

victoria de angelis x fem!reader

synopsis: while on holiday in italy, an encounter derails your life enough to make you pack up on a whim and move to the very city in which you first saw her — the ocean's daughter.

warnings: swearing; alcohol consumption; drowning as a metaphor; my terrible attempts at roman dialect & italian; mild, fade-to-black smut (please dni if this makes you uncomfortable, or is not the kind of content you signed up for :))

word count: 5.7k

a/n: after a brief (okay, so, nine months) lapse in writing for måneskin, i am back!! i hope you can forgive my lack of interaction with you all, as my first year of university was a busy one. please take this fic as an apology and an attempt to wheedle my way back into your hearts <3

⭒

The problem with beautiful people in foreign countries is that there is absolutely no way you might ever run into them again, even by pure coincidence. 

But you couldn’t get her out of your head. 

Walking along the shoreline as the sun set over an unnamed beach on the Italian Riviera coastline, the light turning her skin and her hair to gold, the whole world forgotten as she reached out a hand to touch the waves which crested at her side, as though the ocean were walking with her. Everything was golden at this time of day, but nothing shone like her. 

And oh, how she delighted in the life about her, as though this day, and every day hence, were the best of her life. 

It was not an unnamed beach on the Italian Riviera coastline because you could not remember its name, or had never known it, but simply because it was so small a stretch between the colourful buildings hiking up the cliff face that no one had thought to name it. 

You thought of it now as her beach, the woman you’d seen, illuminated in sunlight like it loved her too much to let her go, if even for a moment. 

La sua spiaggia. 

You hadn’t spoken Italian, until you’d come back from Italy and enrolled in Elementary Italian at the public university close to where you lived. 

You couldn’t get her out of your head — the way she’d laughed, made her way along the shore and sung as though she was speaking to the water, its rush and flow, a tempest contained within each wave. 

Now you were in class every Wednesday night, repeating sentences and sounding as stupid as could be, but you forewent every shade of embarrassment for determination, and never had you been so fixated on anything in your life, to gain understanding of the language in which this woman had spoken. Because it seemed to you that the waves had composed their melody in the image of her voice, and you wanted to know how to speak like that, to be the waves beneath her fingertips. 

You knew you sounded crazy, and possibly were crazy, but for some unfathomable reason, you didn’t care. 

You couldn’t get her out of your head, and so be it. You were happier for it, the memory of her flirting with the sun, the sun blushing deep in the evening sky. And who could have blamed the sun? You would have blushed too.

When the night grew dark earlier in winter, you curled up on the sofa with a blanket wrapped around you, and watched Italian movies without subtitles. 

Most of the films were dramas, often romantic, because these were the most easily accessible in any language. 

In summer, you sat outside in the garden and drank wine, listening to a radio that played Italian music. 

Most of the music was mellow, but occasionally, the host announced some sort of rock band, and amidst the quiet calm of traditional ballads, you relished the uncomplicated anger and infatuation of the rock music. There was something accessible to that, too. Something universal and simple. 

It was the simplicity you appreciated, perhaps mostly because there was little of it in learning a new language. That which is sparse is precious, like the sunlight in her hair at the end of the day. Like the moments in which she had been in your life, so quickly gone, like a dream grasped at in waking. 

Had she ever been there at all?

She had. You held onto that memory like a lifeline. 

Every day, it got you up in the morning. Silly, for something so small to have an impact so great, and yet, it did. 

There she was, in your mind, every time you thought you could no longer take what the world threw at you. Smiling, the sun setting on the water. 

Dancing, the ocean’s daughter. 

⭒

A year down the line, and you were back aboard a plane. You’d bought your ticket and packed your bags and were heading back to Italy, this time for good. 

Each day, you’d spent hours learning, practising, perfecting, but one could only go so far in a classroom setting. All the people you knew who spoke more than one language had said the same thing, the same thing that your teachers had said: the best way to learn was through immersion. 

You’d spoken at length with your work superiors, and they had verified that it was no trouble for you to work remotely. Having nothing you would miss too much in your homeland, you’d decided it was time for a change, and a new start, at that. 

What better way to start anew than to cast yourself into the abyss of the unknown, off to a place you’d never lived, to speak a language you’d only just learnt to speak? 

To find a woman you didn’t know, for but her laughter and her golden hair.

At this thought, you laughed a little yourself. In part, you recognised the madness of your endeavour. But mostly, your vision was too foolishly rose-tinted, with dreams that dallied only just out of your reach, and you thought that if only you could reach them, all would be right. 

Such was the nature of a dreaming heart, a hopeful mind. Had you been a character of Greek myth, it would have been your Achilles’ heel. 

The city lights glittered outside of your window.

⭒

You collapsed on your bed with a heavy sigh. It was of tiredness, it was content. 

Beyond the window, the black sand beaches of Cinque Terre shimmered in the setting sun, the town alight with the fiery light of evening. The turquoise ocean turned tangerine in the fading day, and you thought almost that you could hear the water lapping against the rocky edges of the cliff face upon which the village was built.

Riomaggiore. 

Built up like biscuit tins in a hundred different colours, abundant in boats constructed for fishing and places meant for sitting and looking out over the wide world. There was a quiet age in the winding streets, lined with plants and people, buildings as old as time. 

It smelt of salt and bread, lemon and olives and basil, of the best pesto you’d ever tasted — at the bar tucked away beneath residential balconies, between stone-paved streets — of wine and sea air. It prickled on your lips.

 With those thoughts lingering in your head, you decided it was time for dinner, and got up from the bed to change. 

Afterall, it was almost nine o’clock, and therefore the perfect time to eat. 

⭒

You ended up at a quaint little place with wicker chairs and wooden tables, crowded beneath parasols that remained up in the evening as much as in the day. Amongst these parasols were strung warm paper lanterns which made all beneath them glow, continuing the endless sunshine of summer into the night. 

Having been shown to a little table in a corner, with a view of the darkening ocean, you ordered a glass of wine in Italian clearly more fluent than the waiter had expected. 

“Parli molto bene l'italiano,” he complimented you. He then proceeded to ask, in a conversational manner, where you were from and what brought you here, to which you answered with continued fluency, and he replied again how good the accent was with which you spoke. 

 You carried a companionable conversation with the waiter for a handful of minutes, until he apologised for not yet having brought you your wine, and also for having other tables to attend. 

He brought your wine after a short interval, along with a small decanter of water, and a basket of bread with oil and balsamico. 

With this acquired, you sat back in your chair and contemplated the menu. It was written entirely in Italian, indicative of a restaurant not much frequented by tourists. You were pleased to realise you had no trouble reading it. 

After a while, however, you began to struggle. Not because you didn’t understand the words on the card before you, but because you felt the tingling sensation of someone’s eyes on you. 

Tilting the booklet slowly, you peered over the top of it in what you hoped was a surreptitious manner. 

But when your eyes fell upon the other pair in question, you all but dropped the menu to the ground. 

Because leaned back in a wicker chair only two tables away, sunglasses perched atop her blonde hair beneath the cover of the table parasol, was the one person you’d come here hoping, beyond all reckless and silly hope, to see in the first place. 

The ocean’s daughter canted her head, and tipped a finger against her lips. 

“I know you,” she said, in careful English.

You sputtered, “Pardon?”

She smiled enigmatically, with a soft-curving mouth and gently crinkling eyes that were lit in a way that betrayed mischief, or some secret knowledge. 

“I know you,” she repeated. “You were on the beach, last time I was here.”

You blinked, searching for something to say. Anything, to respond vaguely in the affirmative, without giving away exactly how much you had thought about this golden stranger since you last had seen her. “You don’t live here?”

“Not in Riomaggiore, no.” She smiled again. “I’m from Rome. But you’re not from here, either.”

You laughed. “What gave it away?”

She was drinking Peroni from a bottle, and at your question, she picked this up, stood, and swept over to your table. She sat down in the chair across from you. 

“There,” she said. “Now we don’t have to shout at each other.”

Mildly surprised at her coming to sit down with you, and with your question still hanging in the air, you stared at her. 

“Just a good guess, is all,” she answered finally, lifting a shoulder. “And, you answered naturally in English.” She reached out her hand. “I’m Victoria.”

You shook her hand and gave her your name. Her skin was soft, a blushy pink. Her eyes churned with the colour of the waves that had danced beneath her fingertips a year ago.

“Well, Y/N, what brings you to Riomaggiore for the second summer in a row?”

“I could ask you the same,” you countered. 

Victoria leaned back again. She had a curious look in her eyes that you couldn’t place. 

“I asked you first,” she said wryly, folding her arms. The strength in her grace was not lost on you; doubtless, her arms were strong. 

Mirroring her action of earlier, you sipped your drink. So went the saying, ‘imitation is the highest form of flattery,’ but not only that: you knew that mirror neurons had a direct link to the brain chemistry involved in romance. 

You’d pushed the first pawn across the chess board. The next move was hers. 

“For the pesto,” you replied. 

She laughed succinctly. “And here I’d thought you’d come here for the same reason as me.”

You raised your eyebrows. “Which was?”

The corner of her mouth turned up slowly. “To find you, of course.” 

She lifted the glass bottle to her lips. Her eyes did not leave yours.

Oh she’d moved her piece all right. 

You looked out over the sea so as to not look at her, to not reveal how her words had affected you. But of course, in the sea, you saw her. 

Abruptly, the waiter returned, saving you from making a response. He seemed surprised that there were two patrons where before there had only been one, but he took it in stride and asked whether you’d had time to consider the menu. 

You nodded, but it was Victoria who spoke first. 

“Avremo la pasta al pesto, per favore.” 

The waiter looked between you, “Entrambi?” Were you ordering the same thing?

Victoria looked at you, in askance. 

You squared your shoulders. “Certo,” you told the waiter.

“Bene,” he said, and informed you that it would not be a long wait. Then he left. 

You turned to Victoria. “How did you recognise me? I was just sitting on the beach.”

“You were staring at me.”

Recalling that day, there had been many people staring at her. You told her as much. 

“Yes,” she agreed, “but none so beautiful as you. I would have noticed you anywhere.”

You baulked at this. Victoria was the kind of person people noticed. You were not. 

“You’re a little intimidating, you know,” she said, to which you frowned. “I think that’s why you think people don’t notice you.” 

Then, as though privy to your thoughts, she expanded upon her own. She seemed to have a knack for reading you. 

“You think people don’t notice you, because they don’t necessarily talk to you. But I think they don’t talk to you, because they are intimidated. I could not imagine not noticing you.”

You felt a little light-headed at her words, an unfathomable thrill washing over you like a tide. “Then you are the first person brave enough to speak.”

Victoria’s eyes glinted puckishly. “I take pride in that.”

The sun sank farther in the sky, turning the water red and rouging Victoria’s cheeks till tiny freckles stood out beneath her eyes, over her nose, upon her lower lip. She smiled coyly, and you realised you were staring again. 

“Sorry,” you mumbled with a half-laugh. 

“No,” she shook her head. “Look at me all you like.” A gentle breeze ruffled her hair, and she pushed the fringe from out her eyes. You nearly reached over to do it for her. 

“Makes me feel warm,” she said quietly, like a confession. 

Paradoxically, there were goose bumps raised along her arms.

“You look cold to me,” you responded. 

She wrinkled her nose. “Sea air, sun going down, no suffocating heat like Rome in the summer.”

Standing, you shrugged off your cardigan and side-stepped the table, reaching her side. She watched you move in silence.

“May I?” you asked, holding out the cardigan. 

She opened her mouth to speak, then closed it again. Nodded. 

You sank halfway into a crouch, and draped the garment over her shoulders, pulling the edges around her to meet at her throat. 

Suddenly, time had slowed to a dripping treacle, and you were hyper aware of her eyes tracking your movements, eyelashes low on her cheeks, of the rise and fall of her chest, breath suddenly shallow. There was a slight flush to her skin, though it was golden, touched by sunlight. Those faint freckles on her face traced a speckled path down her neck, over her collarbone and farther still, past where the open collar of her shirt fluttered over her breasts — only just hidden by the white cotton fabric. 

“My eyes are up here, cuore,” she said smugly, and the clichedness of the line shattered your trance as the fever of embarrassment rose beneath your skin.

“Yes, I — ”

“Pasta al pesto per due?”

You started at the voice of the waiter, practically falling into your chair as you stepped back to your side of the table. 

Victoria seemed unfazed. “Sì, grazie mille,” she smiled up at him. 

The waiter smiled tightly as he set down the plates. “Parmigiano?” 

“No, grazie,” you said, wanting him simply to leave as soon as possible and spare you further embarrassment. 

“Più vino? Birra?”

“No, no, grazie.” You did not want more wine. You wanted him to leave. Now.

Victoria was leaned back in her chair again, still beaming. “Prenderò un'altra birra, per favore.”

“Certo,” said the waiter, and left, equally as fast as you’d wished him to. 

You were leaning your forehead on the palm of your hand, still reeling from the embarrassment of the waiter witnessing your fawning over Victoria. 

But you took a breath and composed yourself, picking up your fork for something to do with your hands. 

“So, tell me about Rome,” you inquired of Victoria, without looking up from your food. 

But she gave a little laugh, and before you knew it, her hands were over yours. 

You looked up. 

“Not like that, cara.” She took your hand, and stabbed the trofie — pasta pieces wound into long, tight coils — properly. “And when it’s spaghetti or linguine, you twist, no spoon.”

She let go of your hands, but you felt the warmth of them still. You could scarcely remember how to breathe with the sound of your heartbeat in your ears. 

She picked up her own fork and speared the pasta. 

“You can call me Vic, if you like,” she said. Then, “Rome. Hot, this time of year. Lots of tourists.”

You laughed, partly because the way she had phrased it was amusing, and partly to diffuse the sudden tension which had come between you just before. “You dislike it that much?”

“No, I was just being realistic. But I suppose you want the sun-soaked boulevards and flowerpots and music.”

“Doesn’t everyone?”

Victoria nodded. “And there is that too. Rome’s a little bit of both. Isn’t everything?”

“Both optimistic and pessimistic?”

She pointed her fork at you. “Exact.”

“Exactly?”

She narrowed her eyes. “Shut up, I know I’m not fluent in English.”

You swallowed your pasta, waving a hand. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to seem like I expected that of you. But I also didn’t want to assume that you weren’t fluent just because you’re Italian.”

A strange expression came across Victoria’s face, something between surprise and admiration. 

“Thank you,” she answered laconically, her voice soft as though her gratitude should have been secret. 

Once more lost for words, you could do nothing but nod, and push another pile of trofie onto the tines of your fork. 

The two of you ate quietly for a while — because Victoria suddenly could not look at you, and you still knew not what to say. The wind blew through the cobblestone corridors of Riomaggiore, and stars in the sky began to replace the sparkling of the ocean surface by sunset. You could smell mingled spirits and spices, hear laughter and chatter in a dozen different languages. The chatter was different; the laughter sounded the same in every language. 

Victoria’s fork clattered to her empty plate, momentarily startling you. 

She took a breath. “Do you want to do something crazy?”

You put the last piece of pasta into your mouth, chewed, swallowed, your heart beating fast at the unspoken promise held by her words. “Like what?”

“Like leave, now that we’ve finished eating.”

Your eyes widened, and you lowered your voice. “Victoria, if you saw me, a tourist, leaving a restaurant after finishing dinner, you’d be horrified. This is Italy. You don’t just leave after eating.”

The smile that twisted your insides graced her pink-red lips again. She leaned forward, and your eyes darted involuntarily to her mouth. Her eyes were a thousand different shades of blue.

“Told you it was crazy.”

Then she straightened up again, stuck a hand into her pocket, retrieved a bundle of plastic Euros, placed them on the table beneath a glass, and once more extended her hand to you. 

There was a command in the action, and you obeyed. 

When her hand was in yours again, it felt like sanctity, a warm flush spreading through your body at her innocent touch. 

She drew you up from your chair, and before you knew what was happening, she was holding your hand like the memory of her that had held you enraptured for a year, and you were running through the streets of a seaside village, your footsteps loud, your laughter resonant in your belly, in your chest and your lungs, upon your lips. 

You ran and ran, hand in hand, and if anybody had asked, you wouldn’t have known how to explain the energy which had suddenly made a rollercoaster of your veins. 

The streets wove and turned like a labyrinth, like a web, and all these strings ran in one direction: to the sea. 

It was only when there was sand in between your toes that you realised that you had reached the end of the road. You kicked your shoes off without a thought, as Victoria discarded her borrowed cardigan into the sandy dunes.

And then she was pulling you toward the rushing waves and the dying sun ever and ever closer to the horizon, and the water was sloshing up over your ankles, your calves. 

Another laugh burst forth from your chest, and you turned to splash Victoria. 

She shrieked, because the day had been hot, but the water was still cold, and the difference was jarring. 

When she looked at you, her hair was soaking wet, bangs dripping down her face like the water that had made her makeup run, and somehow, she was even more beautiful now, in what should have been ruin but instead was triumph, like every grain of sand on her hands was residual stardust from her soul, though still was nothing when compared to the light in her eyes. The laughter was still warm in your chest.

She shivered, and your moment of trance shattered like sugar glass. You took her hand this time. 

“Come on,” you said, leading out of the water like she was Venus born of a Botticelli vision. “Let’s go dance this cold away.”

Against your own, her pulse fluttered, and her clammy palm in yours, with its calloused fingertips and short-cut nails, was suddenly the most important thing ever entrusted to you. 

You swallowed, before letting go of her hand to put your shoes back on. She sat down beside you.

“Y-you like to dance?” Her wide eyes were wider beneath the smudged makeup. The devious glint in them was gone as she shivered, the sun nearly gone now. 

I could learn to love anything if I was with you, you thought. It was a dangerous thought, to be told. You dared not speak it aloud. 

You pulled on your cardigan, but only to drag the sleeve down over your wrist and press it carefully under her eyes, blotting away the remnants of mascara. 

Her eyes closed slowly, and you breathed in tandem to the sound of the breaking waves. 

You tugged off your cardigan again, and set it around her shoulders once more before she had the chance to protest. 

When she opened her eyes again, her lips parted too. She might have leaned in, if you hadn’t spoken then. 

“When in Riomaggiore…” you murmured, and were rewarded with her gentle laughter. 

Victoria stood and pulled you up. When you were fully on your feet, she nearly lost her balance, but you caught her arms before she fell to the sand, and instead she fell against your chest. 

Her breath was on your collarbone, laboured — presumably from the adrenaline rush of the ground disappearing from beneath her feet. Her fingers were against your back, curled to keep herself standing. 

Already your thoughts were gone from the beach, from the light still left on its shore, deep now in the midnight dark that would soon follow, fast-forwarded to a fantasy, of her body against yours, every part of her as soft as the skin of her palms, and flushed a pretty pink, her open mouth against your collarbone, your fingers in her hair, her fingers on your back drawing the visceral, unspeakable sounds from your mouth. 

The seaspray brought you back to reality. 

But apparently Victoria’s thoughts had been lost as well, because now it was not her breath on your collarbone, but her lips, and you weren’t dreaming that she was kissing you there. 

Your breath had gone shallow in the space of milliseconds, and her mouth moved up to linger on your neck, your jaw, your cheek. Her arms were wrapped around you, and that open-collared shirt was against your chest, warmth bleeding from her to you. 

Finally you could take it no longer. You took her face in your hands and pressed your mouth to her mouth.

When you kissed her, she tasted of salt and wheat and sugar. Her lips were soft and warm as the summer air, and when your fingers tangled in her hair, her hands were on your elbows and your heart was in your mouth. 

You were kissing a stranger in a foreign land, and you felt as though you’d known her forever, disintegrating in her arms like salt in the sun as her kiss came up to meet you like a wave, and you couldn’t remember the right way to breathe. There was nothing left to your identity for but the memory of what it was to kiss her, and else nothing mattered. You would not have cared, if this ocean’s daughter had drowned you. You would have gone willingly to that watery grave. And had she tried to leave you, you would have traded your soul to have even a moment more of hers.

Because here it was: your heart, exposed in how you held her, how desperately you kissed her. 

How much you adored her, after knowing her so little. 

She angled her head and her teeth bruised your lip as she deepened the kiss, eliciting a gasp from you. You thought she might have laughed — softly, behind your mouth — a quiet, secret laughter meant only for your ears, and new heat surged through you at the thought. 

She was only kissing you, and yet, she was tearing you asunder. Pulling you apart at the seams with only her touch. 

“Vic,” you breathed, and it was all you managed. 

You were staggering back, falling against the sand, and she was pressing evanescent kisses to every square centimetre of your skin, and you’d never felt so alive in your life, with the heat of her body against yours and her pulse against your own like a metronome gone rogue. 

“Fuck dancing,” she murmured, between kisses. “I want you.”

Her words were like an open flame to oxygen, burning inside of you. 

Her lips touched your earlobe. “Do you want me?” she whispered. 

“Yes,” you replied, heart thundering. 

And you had been trying to play down your attraction to her, to hide it so that she wouldn’t see how much everything she did affected you — when she bit her lip and you wished it was your teeth instead of hers, that coy smile she always turned to the ground like she knew exactly what it was doing to you, her long fingers drumming on the table, already in time with your pulse. 

And now there was nothing subtle about it. 

Her hand was in yours, and you were running again, up into the town, pushing her against an alleyway wall to steal a kiss as she asked, 

“Mine or yours?”

“Unless you’re one street over too, then mine is closer.”

Her laughter tickled your lips, seaspray in the wind. “That eager?”

“You kissed me first.”

“Touché,” she whispered, her breath coming sharp and short against your mouth, sticky with her lipstick, warm with her scent, her touch. 

The last of the climb to your rented rooms was a stumble, Victoria pressing messy kisses to your shoulder, into the crook of your elbow, as you fumbled for your keys and tried, impossibly, to keep quiet.

By the time the two of you stumbled through the door, she had unbuttoned your trousers, and had your blouse in her fist. You reached for her and found yourself bare for but your bra and underwear, while Victoria retained only her white shirt and panties. 

You paused. 

Slowly, as her chest rose and fell, she took your hands and guided them to the buttons at the ridge of her breasts, and slowly, you unbuttoned the few remaining, tantalising buttons of her white shirt, letting the garment fall to the ground like a flag. Like surrender.

You stared at her for heartbeats, in awe of how she breathed and obsessed with the way she moved. 

Then, as though she could wait no longer, she crushed you against her and kissed you, sucking your lower lip into your mouth and biting down, evoking from you a desperate whimper, for anything more of her that you could get — all of her, if she would give it to you. 

You drew back from her lips to kiss the rest of her, pushing her into the mattress to press your mouth to every bit of skin you could find. When her fingers found your hair and pulled, your kiss left a bruise on her neck, and then her shoulder, before she pushed you down on the mattress and your thighs apart. 

Her palm was already there for you when you groaned, and you felt her smile of satisfaction against your mouth when her fingers brushed over your clothed folds. 

“God,” she murmured, “you’re so pretty when you know what you want.” 

You managed only a hoarse whisper in return. “Then give it to me.”

She laughed and it tickled your skin, and then your bra was gone as well, and her fingers were curled around the elastic of your underwear. She took too long for your liking, and you pushed her hand, leaving yourself exposed to her mercy and the cool night air.

But she was merciful if nothing else, this ocean’s daughter, and her fingers were inside of you before you could utter another plea. 

Already she needed no guidance, played you like the strings of a harp with a flick of her wrist and those long, gently curling fingers. 

Her eyes never left yours, half-lidded in the same haze you felt cloud your mind when she touched you, when your back arched up from the already untidy sheets, when her other hand travelled up your thigh and your stomach, finding a resting place beneath your breasts as she pushed you into the bed, held you there as you writhed. 

When you came, you pulled her down with you until the moon sank into the sky as well, until the sun dawdled once more on the horizon. 

And perhaps, you thought, this was where the moon and sun went in those small hours of the night when neither could be seen by those still awake on Earth — they were together, entwined in a beautiful, impossible duality of silver and gold, at last unfettered by human imagination. 

⭒

You didn’t remember falling asleep, but you remembered Victoria. Remembered her breath as it whispered against your legs, her lips the inside of your thighs. Already, the memories were imprinted upon your mind like whorls of sand, and on your tongue the salt of her demise as she’d gasped beneath your touch with her head tipped back in ecstasy — and god, she had been so unfathomably pretty. Endlessly so.

Now, you reached out to touch her, to sweep the gold strands from the eyes of your very own gold dust woman. But the sheets were empty.

Fear gripped your heart in a sudden vice, that she should have left you with so little, so early, so soon. 

But the light trailed her still in the wake of morning, and as your eyes followed it, you found her outside, leaning against the railing of your balcony, summer-sunshine hair falling down her back, her legs still bare though her upper half was hidden by your cardigan — and oh, how good she looked in your clothes. You wanted to see her like that all the time. 

Slipping out of bed, you took a leaf from her book and tugged on her long white shirt, before pattering out onto the balcony. 

She turned at the sound of your approach, and smiled sleepily. Her hair floated atop her shoulders, over her back and her chest in waterfalling waves, blonde strands twining messily and yet perfectly in what could easily have been sunbeams, returning to her as though she were the very star they had awaited all along.

“Buongiorno,” she murmured. The wide blue sky arced above her head, and the streets below your balcony had begun to crescendo in the sounds of waking, the morning routines of a thousand strangers beneath your feet, the waves washing ever over the shores in their ethereal clockwork.

“Morning,” you replied. It appeared she was only wearing your cardigan and her underwear, and in her shirt and your own underwear, you were no better. Your heart filled with lightness at the thought that she should be so uninhibited in your presence. No one had ever been so easily open with you before. 

She held out a hand as you drew nearer, and you slid your fingers into hers. Before you could react, she pulled you flush against her, wrapping her arms around you and kissing you, ardently but achingly slow like the dawning day, lips tender but her hold on you fierce, as though she could not have let go had she tried. 

Her hand came to rest on your cheek, her thumb brushing over your lower lip. 

“I want you to know,” she said breathlessly, “that this is not all I wanted from you. I just couldn’t help myself.” Your pulse quickened, the strings of your heart tying themselves in knots. “I want everything of you, if you want that too.”

A smile found its way to your face, and you wound your fingers through hers. She looked down at your intertwined hands, and you fell apart a little at the fond look on her face. 

“I do.”

Her hands slid to your waist as she came to stand behind you, with her chin leaned on your shoulder and her gaze returned to the view beyond the balcony, though you felt her lips briefly touch the space between your neck and collarbone. 

The daughter of the ocean, in your arms at last.

You knew little about her, still. But summer held many days yet, and when she turned and smiled at you in the sunshine of the new day, you knew that she would give every day to you, if only you asked.

⭒

taglist: @tabi-toast @hazypoppy @juststalking @petit-poussin @oro-e-diamanti @glittermalia @tiaamberxx @bidet-and-legolas @immisterbrightsideeee @superchrystaldrug @marriedwithmarktuan @ethaneskin @maneskin-simpie33 @cheese-toastie-11 @moonlight-simp

send me an ask to be added to my taglist!

— a short and casual genshin impact otome game.

⟣ 𝕕𝕠𝕨𝕟𝕝𝕠𝕒𝕕 𝕙𝕖𝕣𝕖 ⟢

┊ (Windows 🪟, Linux 🐧, or Mac 🍎 only!)

◇ 𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭'𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬? ◇

Just a simple something I had in mind for a Genshin otome game... I have 0 attention span, 0 time, and 0 knowledge to write and build a full-fledged 3D game with intricate stories, plot, and mechanics. This is just a simple visual novel with a streamlined plot and partial voices. You should be able to complete everything in like... 30 minutes long in total. Might be less, even.

◇ 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐬 ◇

The game will contain the following: established relationship, FLUFF, comfort, lots of pet names, suggestive themes, lots of kissy sounds on some routes, implications of violence (not towards player), a sprinkle of protective behavior

◇ 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐬 ◇

Zhongli, Xiao, Childe, Diluc, Kaeya, Itto, Kazuha (Zhongli is selected by default because who doesn’t love geo daddy???)

◇ 𝐰𝐡𝐨'𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐟𝐨𝐫? ◇

This is a very self-indulgent project, hence the dialogues were written with fem!player in mind. It will contain suggestive themes, so please be aware of that before downloading / playing!

◇ 𝐢𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐟𝐫𝐞𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐲? ◇

Yes, it's totally free - in fact, I do not accept payment.

◇ 𝐡𝐨𝐰 𝐭𝐨 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐲? ◇

Click the link to download the appropriate file based on your OS. Only Windows, Linux, and Mac are supported. No, I won't release it on other platforms.

Open the game, and you’ll find that it’s pretty straightforward. Customize your profile, select your love interest, then start the game.

There are no wrong answers and the love interest can be changed anytime (just go back to main menu and select the character’s picture on the right side).

◇ 𝐜𝐚𝐧 𝐢 𝐬𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬? ◇

You can personally send links to this post / the game’s itch.io page to your friends via DMs, but outside of that (reposting), NO. For example, posting about this on Reddit is prohibited.

◇ 𝐚𝐧𝐲𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐞𝐥𝐬𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞? ◇

This is a super casual project.

Scripts are not proofread. Probably lots of grammar mistakes.

Novel format without narration (full dialogs).

There are no actual sprites, just official art and something akin to a speech bubble to cater to the characters’ changes in ‘expression’.

There are voices, but only partial - mostly just grunts, chuckles, kisses, and stuff. I’m using JP voices EXCEPT for Itto because Max Mittelman is a gem. No, I will not add other languages' voice versions.

Sound cues and voices are quite important for this game so I recommend using headphones.

Depending on when you open the game (morning, afternoon, nighttime, midnight), your currently selected love interest might greet you differently.

To reiterate, there are no wrong answers.

Selecting all talk/act options for a character will unlock a small event where they'll give you unique gifts.

I lowkey have so many ideas on how to expand on this in terms of gameplay and options but let’s be real here it probably won’t happen lol why can’t my brain be this creative when it comes to work

◇ 𝐢𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐚 𝐯𝐢𝐫𝐮𝐬??? ◇

No... That said, anyone can literally say that. Please be responsible for your own actions.

I have also released other games on the same itch.io profile, so this isn't my first rodeo. Feel free to check the reviews on those before making your decision if you're wary about downloading!

◇ 𝐥𝐚𝐬𝐭 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬 ◇

hyv please don't sue me i gain 0 dollars for this and i just wanna simp in peace

⟐ 𝚌𝚛𝚎𝚍𝚒𝚝𝚜 🄸 𝚒𝚝𝚌𝚑.𝚒𝚘 𝚙𝚛𝚘𝚏𝚒𝚕𝚎 🄸 𝚒𝚗𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚕𝚕 𝚒𝚗𝚜𝚝𝚛𝚞𝚌𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗𝚜 ⟐

© zhongrin | 2022 ◆ do not repost or share without permission. reblogs much appreciated. feel free to reach out to submit suggestions, feedback, comments, or if you just want to talk!

Evil pope so laaame, I love him

I finally finished drawing my version of the ghouls unmasked!

Love the idea of their designs reflecting not only their elements, but their real life counterparts as well!

⛧Also a firm reminder not to upload this anywhere without my permission, and credit if you use it as a pfp or something similar!

i really really really want a ghost tattoo *cries in too many bills to pay* I may set up tattoo tickets if anyone is interested, they would be $35AUD and you would receive cleaner artwork and a ticket download that grants written permission to use my work for a tattoo

An assortment of Ghost hcs @lady-necropolis and I created sorry if they’re awkward and poorly written I’ve never done this before

Relationship hcs:

Terzo

Likes seeing his s/o in his clothes, has a very “what’s mine is yours” attitude. Also he thinks it’s hot.

He likes to play with his s/o’s hair when he’s stressed or they’re stressed or whenever he possibly can. And if they have long hair he braids it. @lady-necropolis actually wrote a fic based on this ! It’s really good 🥰.

Very fun to be with because of his confidence and extravagance, definitely brings a shy s/o out of their shell and brings out their best side.

However a lot of his confidence is probably him putting on airs and he will let his s/o see his soft and vulnerable side, probably talks to them about his worries at 2am lol

Copia

Love language is touch, has to be constantly touching his s/o partially bc he’s touch starved and he just likes to check that they’re still there partially for reassurance. He is very fragile ok.

Very needy and requires a lot of reassurance but he is very worth it.

Texts his s/o constantly (as long as they don’t mind, he doesn’t want to be a nuisance)

Very patient and understanding with his s/o and happy to hear about and help with any problems they may have if he can.

Family hcs:

They all know each other inside out, including which buttons to press to annoy each other and how to calm each other down.

Terzo’s love language is “collecting” things from his brothers and s/o he wanders into their room and takes their clothes and little things that remind him of them so he can have little pieces of them wherever he is, they know he does this but they don’t mind.

Because of this he’s happy to share his wardrobe with his s/o and his brothers.

Secondo is the dad. He dads everyone, including terzo even though he’s only 3 months younger. He’s such a dad he even dads primo.

Terzo loves his big brothers but is closer to secondo. He has definitely slipped up and called him dad before, hes even said it in front of Nihil. Nihil didn’t even notice.

Terzo definitely slept in secondos bed a lot when they were younger, they were a comfort for each other.

If you want to hurt terzo you have to go through secondo. He is very protective.

The emeritus brothers adopt copia. Secondo dads him (obviously) and he loves it, he absolutely thrives.

Secondo teaches him swear words. He also taught terzo.

Secondo has definitely berated sister for being a bad mother to copia , he will not stand for this shit. Overhearing this conversation is how copia found out, he didn’t mention it to anyone it was a very stressful realisation for him.

General hcs:

Terzo

Loves baths, loves bath bombs. He smells really really nice.

Has the biggest bed, very luxurious and comfy. His room is also very lavish and fancy, it’s much nicer than copias. Sorry copia.

Doesn’t get angry too often but when he does he literally explodes he is a ball of rage he will break things and yells very very loudly.

Gets pep talks from secondo when he’s feeling self conscious or worrying about something.

You get excellent gossip about him from secondo and primo, they know everything.

Primo

Practically raised secondo as he’s a lot older and Nihil was useless.

Has some really sick vintage band shirts, terzo definitely steals them and wears them.

Knows about copias parentage before copia does. Before anyone does actually (except sister obviously)

literally cannot be lied to, no really one knows why but it’s impossible.

Knows everything about everyone, no one knows how

Secondo

Tall. Ridiculously fucking tall, man is a tree.

Bullies terzo for being small, doesn’t mean to hurt him though because he does love him (secretly)

Only person who knows how much he loves terzo is terzo (and probably primo again, can’t hide things from him)

Will not for the life of him use chapstick. He crusty.

He’s usually quite grumpy but he is absolutely terrifying when angry, if he gets angry run just fucking run.

Only person able to calm him down when he’s raging is terzo. Or his s/o but terzo is really the only one brave enough to try. (He has to hug him while he’s storming around so he has to be very fast and very sneaky)

Only copia has ever seen him cry and it doesn’t happen very often, copia was very young so secondo doesn’t think he remembers. (He does)

Copia

He’s very in touch with his emotions and cries a lot. He literally wears his heart on his sleeve. He had to try very very hard to get it under control after becoming papa because it’s too dangerous to be so open.

Angry cryer, always cries when he’s angry and it frustrates him. It ends up making him cry more and he does not appreciate it.

Chinese is not his favourite food, sister doesn’t know enough about him to know what it is. Hell, he didn’t even know until he went on tour and could fully be himself for the first time and not the person he is at the ministry.

Angst hcs

Terzo was furious when he was fired, had a full on screaming match with sister and Nihil, probably threw something at Nihils head.

He had to be restrained and dragged away by primo and secondo and he was still screaming insults at them in Italian all the way down the hall.

Copia saw it being Nihils right hand man, he probably cried as he was very shocked and stressed and he just doesn’t. Know. What. To. Do. He felt awful seeing terzo like that and being unable to stand up for him. Went to his rooms afterwards and apologised. Lots of tears from both of them.

There are more but my brain is fried rn lmao but if anyone likes these expect future posts !!!

hello!! may a request an alastor x reader where the reader is charlie’s older sister?!

I am sorry this took a weirdly long time, I had to rewrite it literally four separate times before I had a semi-solid idea for a plot, and this is where it got me

I do sincerely hope you like it!

The Magne Match Maker

She was lucifer's oldest and most powerful daughter, holding a reputation for being a high energy leader who didn't take any shit, and often stirred fear in the hearts of those around her. Everyone in hell knew who she was, Alastor alone had read about her in papers, seen her in paintings and portraits with her family, and even caught a glimpse of her on the picture show once or twice in passing. He found himself knowing of both her and her reputation when they met, so the shock wasn't from her personality or anything of substance - he just hadn't anticipated how much prettier she was in person.

Despite her initial skepticism with his relations to her sister's dreams, she never shunned him, but rather allowed him closer in an attempt to grasp any hidden intentions he had. She allowed him to talk and dance and joke with her like he did with everyone else that allowed him to, and he found that she herself was brilliantly funny, charismatic, and quite the dancing partner, she was bold and fun and all around gorgeous - and Alastor would never admit just how quickly she had him wrapped around her little finger.

Charlie watched it all go down too, from the moment her sister arrived at the hotel she had a premonition about those two, and as the weeks passed their chemistry became more and more undeniable. Her sister, who was usually stubborn and quick witted, seemed to turn to putty in Alastor's hands every time he swept her into a dance, she'd blush and lean into his grip, and has a smile that just wouldn't leave regardless of how much she tried to force any other expression into its place. Alastor himself even seemed hesitant any time he had to remove the demon from his gaze and found that his face flushes against his will any time she'd laugh at his jokes.

This went on for months, both parties infatuated with the other while doing nothing to officialize any sort of relationship.

Charlie had to do something

While y/n had accepted the idea, Alastor was thrilled at the principal of a ball! So many bodies crammed in one room in the midst of an event would surely result in some delicious chaos, and even if there wasn't any, perhaps he could treat himself to a dance with the queen-to-be! 

Said demon herself was more excited at the ability to use the event as an excuse to go dress shopping with her little sister (dad had her off on business so often it seemed she never got to see Charlie anymore) it had been a long time since she'd been to a formal event and who better to consult than her! The Magne sisters would surely rule the event with their outfits.

Boy did they, Alastor was stunned when he saw y/n, who entered with Vaggie and Charlie, the three of them were talking and at one point when y/n threw her head back in laughter his long-dead heart seemed to leap back to life. He had never meant to stare, of course, she just completely caught him off guard with her striking appearance. Both Magne sisters wore dresses in the same style with skirts that met the floor with a gold trim, charlie's was primarily black and pink - like her typical outfit, and her sister was wrapped up in her own favorite colors, golden fabric trimming both dresses. He himself was quite dressed up, an old fashioned suit adorning his thin frame (red suited him best, he thought), his bowtie was replaced with a hand-tied bow, and a silken vest showed slightly beneath his coat. Her eyes finally met his after a few moments, and he reveled in the way her cheeks instantly flushed upon seeing him. It wasn't long then, before he approached her for a dance, earning an excited squee from Charlie. 

"You are gorgeous as always Ms. Magne, I would be eternally grateful if you'd grant me a dance." He asked sweetly, taking her hand and bowing to press a kiss to her knuckles

Her face flushes even more and she looks to Charlie who nearly shoves her sister into his arms in reply. He is barely fazed, only moving to ensure she was steady before returning to his previous position, "I'd be honored to" she says finally, her words barely leaving her mouth in a breath.

His smile widens and he immediately begins guiding her to the floor where many couples were already moving to a jovial rhythm, proudly showing her off to those who saw, as if staking claim to her right then and there. As usual, she was a wonderful dancer, and he adored every second he had with her in his arms, twirling and spinning her in time with their fellow dancers, even she seemed to be having a blast. He was so caught up in the moment that he barely noticed when the music slowed to the next song and she ended up curled up into his arms with her head to his chest. His left hand gripped her right one gently, and his other hand was held softly to her waist as he led her between the other dancers.

"You have a heartbeat." She observes in a soft voice

“That I do." He hums in a jovial tone, sending a delightful chill down her spine

"My father and mother don't, I have just never heard one before…" she says softly, and her face flushes slightly once again, "I don't know why I brought that up, I was just thinking and I guess I started talking."

He shook his head “Nonsense, I’d love to know whats going on in that pretty little head of yours,” He hummed continuing their soft sway across the floor, “Many people find the sound of a heartbeat to be relaxing, while I have met others who rejected the idea of a demon with a pulse, I’m curious of what your opinion is.” He continued the topic, hoping to keep her talking

“I like it.” she says contently, “I think I could always listen to it.”

Now it was his turn to feel blood rush to his cheeks, and he was silently thankful that she couldn't see his darkened flesh from her angle against his chest

"It's funny how much I disliked you when we first met," she continued, "I'll admit, Charlie is the only reason I let you stick around at all - and it seems that it's because of her that I'm here with you now." 

He hummed, "She is quite persistent regarding you and I, isn't she?" He muses, his eyes shining with amusement when she finally picked her head up to see him 

"Quite," she says, mirth decorating her features, Charlie was naturally very excitable, but her biggest downfall was her inability to be discreet - she didn't know just how much her proclaimed OTP knew of her set up, and the two of them got quite the kick out of watching it all unfold. "You don't have to listen to her ramblings, mister, I don't wanna hear you complain!" She said with a laugh

"Who said I was complaining? Your sister is quite entertaining, her little matchmaker game is one of the highlights of my days at the hotel!" He replies, "And you, Ma petite chou, play quite the role in that, too. Your smile shines brighter than the sun ever dreamed!" 

She makes a face, unable to hide her light blush at his compliments, "I've never seen the sun, Al- and did you just call me a little cabbage?" 

He laughs, "It's a term of endearment, chér, the french use it to relate the subject to something small, round, and cute, which you my darling, are." He flirts, that familiar sparkle of amusement manifesting in his eyes once more, "and why have the sun when you exist in this world?" 

She rolls her eyes, her cheeks still burning slightly, "Why do you say such things to me? Charlie cannot hear, so there is hardly any cause for you to continue this game."

He seemed confused for a moment, "game? Oh darling, you wound me with your accusation. I may be a demon, but I am a man of my word, and though I admit I have a flair for the dramatic, none of my actions toward you have been anything short of genuine." He confesses, and the look on her face was one of complete shock.

Then in the most amazing twist, an excited smile graced her features

"So you're saying that Charlie is absolutely correct about us and after all of it, you really do like me, and I am the most oblivious being on this plane just like she said." 

He blinked, "now I'm not-"

She rolled her eyes again, shaking her head, "shut up and kiss me, you silly cabbage." 

He laughed then, humming "as you wish, mon drôle de petit chou" before spinning her about and pressing a sweet kiss to her lips

Before she could even process the situation she was in, she heard her sister squeal in delight at the sight of her parallel to the floor in the radio demon's arms, and she couldn't help the excited smile into Alastor's own at the sound.