#(gosh he's so smitten)

[angeart]

[To the Rest of Our Lives Together, Unafraid]

absently, he fidgets with the ring freshly on his finger, as scar's jaunty whistling reaches him.

they're married now.

really, truly married. for life.

for lives. because they're going to have multiple. they're going to have an endless number of them, all of them shared, bound and meant to be together.

--- Scar here

[thevikingwoman]

FFXIVWrite 2024 - prompt 19

I was halfway done with this, so I decided to finish it despite the event being officially over. Timeline wise this is set post Shadowbringers, but only has Stormblood spoilers. Paladin job quest spoilers too, if you're technical

Fandom: Final Fantasy XIV | Words: 885

Tansui & various confederate pirates, background Meryta Khatin (wol) x Tansui | Shadowbringers patches | romance Rating: Teen. Tansui is deeply in love, he's really in it now, friendship, flirting, pirate headcanons, alcohol mention, alluding to sex

Taken

Tansui likes these evenings, food and music and comfort. It’s a reminder that they’re not just scraping by, but thriving. Conversation tonight has been lively, the sake plentiful. He has indulged in both, the latter mostly with Raowul and some of his friends, who’s been with the Confederacy for a while - but despite that Tansui doesn’t know him well. He’s Eorzean, the increase in travel and trade with a freed Doma bringing both profits and people. There’s always someone running from something.

They’ve traded banter and stories easily enough, Raowul telling an audacious story of the time he was a merchant in Ul’dah. It is, probably, vastly exaggerated, but that hardly matter.

“… and the next thing I know, the blasted Sultansworn shows up! I have been informed your wares are a danger to the Sultanate – or some such nonsense. He looks so boring while going on, so I just smiled and nodded, you know – “

“What’s a Sultansworn?” Reisha asks.

“They’re sworn to protect the Sultana, and take their job very seriously.”

“Like the seikugami?” Tansui asks. He’s been getting sour looks enough once or twice he dared to set foot in Kugane, before making a quick exit.

“They’re not really supposed to involve themselves unless it’s like – the Sultana’s life that’s in danger and some such, the Brass Blades are the ones supposed to keep general order. But this guy – so full of himself in his shiny armor, decided my hair tonics were poison.”

Raowul grins, and briefly places a hand conspiratorially on Tansui’s thigh before he lets it slide off again.

“Go on,” Tansui says. The attention and the company is nice; friends and acquaintances and the sake warming his belly. Raowul has broad thighs and solid chest, and seems to enjoy himself. There’s no harm in letting him.

“Well, at this point there was naught to do but fight or flee – and fighting wouldn’t have done me much except ending up dead.” The pirates around him makes sounds of assents, they all know there’s little reason for dumb bravery if you can save your skin. Raowul drinks again, smiling at his audience. “Behind me – a wall. In front of me – a bulwark of a man, his ego even wider than his shoulders. I did the only thing I could do – first I threw the alleged poison in his face – truly I swear it was harmless – then I dodged sideways into another stall. It happened to be a cloth merchant, and I swiped his samples off his tables, and threw them behind me before I hightailed down the street. The Sultansworn set after me, elixir running down his face and wrapped in silk fabrics streaming behind him. It was quite a sight.”

“Did you escape?” Ishi asks, his ears twitching forward with excitement.

“Of course.” The confidence is rolling from Raowul, his chest puffed and grin wide. “I ran all the way to the Silver Bazaar, and found passage on the first ship there. Never set foot in Ul’dah since.”

“That’s quite the story, Raowul.”

“I have more, and I’m sure you all have just as exciting things to regale, if not more exciting.” He’s addressing them all, but looking straight at Tansui. “Or perhaps you’ll prefer to tell in private. Maybe go over what must be an impressive training regimen.” Raowul eyes travel down Tansui’s body in a brazen way that’s impossible to misunderstand.

“I’m flattered Raowul, but I’m taken.” Raowul is attractive and nice, but he’s not interested. He can’t help the happiness in his voice, nor the smile on his lips. He made a promise, and so did Meryta. She is his. “But everyone has to show up for training in the Coral Court at some point,” he adds.

“You say that, but I don’t see no one.” Raowul makes a point of looking around, slight smirk on his face.

“Well, I’m –”

Reisha interrupts “Tansui is fucking the Warrior of Light, don’t you know?”

“The Champion of Eorzea?” Bazen’s eyebrows climb up his face. Tansui feels quite smug.

“Quite loudly and vigorously, I may add,” Ishi chimes in.

Tansui flushes with pride and embarrassment. She’s into him, and he’s not going to apologize for that.

“Mayhap I just know how to satisfy my lovers, Ishi.”

“There’s no doubt when she’s here, that’s for sure. No rest for anyone.” He laughs and downs another cup of sake, his tail wagging with mirth.

“What a shame to be missing out, then,” Raowul says, backing down completely. There’s something other than disappointment in his eyes, awe or disbelief maybe. Tansui doesn’t care. He knows she will be back and he’s quite happy to claim her interest, and to be claimed in return. To have her close, his arms around her. Kissing the freckles on her shoulders. Her tail sliding close, the way she moans when he tugs on it –

“See he’s got that look on his face again,” Reisha says. Did he miss something? He feels hot, too much sake.

“I better turn in,” he says, and gets up, nodding at his comrades. Better to retreat before his pride turns to embarrassment.

“Not just taken, but smitten, I say,” Ishi mumbles behind him.

“Well, what about you, Ishi?”

He leaves them to it, he thoughts already back to his longing.

[magneticflower]

I opened up Six of Crows because I was looking for a specific part but the page I had opened up to was the one where Kaz was at a lost for words upon looking up and seeing Inej with the sun on her as she closed her eyes and just--- 'for a moment he was a boy again, sure there was magic in the world.'

how am I supposed to focus on what I was looking for before after reading that again

[starry-marshmallow]

I love how expressive Jihyun is in his route. He gets so pouty and panicked and flustered and makes the loveliest of noises

sighs dreamily

[decimalpointed]

Eddie's dad drags him along to steal his first car at age 13. Eddie's excited, nervous, but eager to please his father. He knows his mother wouldn't approve but she's passed out drunk again, so her opinion hadn't been relevant when his father had barged in and swooped him up.

His father takes him to a nice end of town, filled with mansions that are strung up with extravagant Christmas lights to display their wealth and holiday cheer. Eddie doesn't go to these neighborhoods, never has occasion to. They breeze by the residential area and wind up near shopping centers, boutiques with fancy polos and knick knacks.

When they pull into a packed parking lot, filled with last minute holiday shoppers, Eddie can feel nervous sweat dripping down his skin.

"We're gonna have a damn good Christmas this year." His father mumbles, greed in his eyes and breath sour with the stench of alcohol as he scans across the lot for fancy cars. He spots his mark. "There. That one Ed. Do you see it? No cameras pointed towards it. Snow still melting on the hood so engines still warm. Good solid Beemer, real nice car. Will sell for a pretty penny."

Eddie just nods, his fingers shaking as his eyes flit around the lot. There are people going to a from their cars. Its dark, with a gentle flurry of snow but anyone could see them in the well lit lot.

They get out of their own car, the doors sqeaky and rust blooming across the old metal. Eddie cringes at the sound. Its so loud. It feels like eyes are watching all around him. The air feels cold and thin, like its not reaching his lungs right even though he's practically panting.

His dad sidles up to the car, his tools in his pocket and it takes him less than 30 seconds to jimmy the driver side door open and he hits the unlock button so Eddie can scramble into the passenger side.

"Now look here son." His dad takes his tools out, lays them across his lap and gestures to the console. "You see these new fancy cars, there's a little latch right here. You gotta tug it till that snaps and it'll pop right out." He pops the plastic off, revealing the mess of wires beneath. "See easy as that." And then he hands the pliers to Eddie, who fumbles and almost drops them to the fancy floor mats.

"Now you cut this one here and we are gonna cut this other one here. Then we just need to spark em" Eddie follows the instructions, slow and unsteady because all he can register right now is his heartbeat slamming against his ribs.

He strips the wires back and his father takes over, grabs them and clicks the exposed metal together until the car roars to life. He gives a woop and Eddie can't help but give a shakey smile.

"That's it?" Eddie asks, because it feels too easy.

"That's it son." His fathers crooked teeth shine yellow in the streetlight as he grins.

His father puts the car in reverse, backing out and driving nice and easy. He gets them onto the main road and Eddie can finally feel his nerves start to calm.

"Now we are just gonna get this beauty over to Johnny's. Then-" his dad is interrupted by a sound, a small sleepy groan from the backseat and they both freeze.

"Dad? Are you done shopping alread-" The voice cuts off and Eddie swings around and his gaze finds a boy roughly his age, sitting up and looking like a deer in the headlights as he realizes it's not his father driving the car, but Eddie's. Fuck. Shit.

Eddie can feel the tension, flits his eyes to his father who is looking in the rear view mirror, his face shuddering into panic and then swiftly schooling his face into blankness.

"Who are you?" The boy asks wearily.

His father plasters on a fake smile. "Hey kiddo. Ran into your dad in the store with my boy here. He was saying how he was buying you Christmas gifts and didn't want you to see em before the big day. So he asked if I would run you home real quick."

The boys eyes narrow suspiciously and Eddie knows before he opens his mouth that he isn't buying the bullshit his dad is trying to sell him one bit. This has gone sideways and Eddie knows that his dad can't get caught again or he will go away for a long time and then it's just going to be Eddie and his mom who barely was a person these days, drowning herself in booze and pills and powder.

The boy lunges quickly to the door and Eddie hears the click of the locks as his dad beats the kid to it. The car swerves precariously as his dad is distracted.

"Let me out!" The boy yells, a tremor in his voice and the sound makes Eddie want to curl up and hide. This is so fucked. They are kidnapping him. This is a kidnapping.

"Dad-" Eddie begins to plead, to try to reason that this is too far, that he wants no part in this. Fuck the money. Fuck Christmas. He wants to go home and let this kid go home too.

His dad doesn't let him finish, just whirls around with like a cornered viper and lashes out. His fist hits the other kid right in the face and the sound is stark and violent. The boy cries out, immediately gushing blood from his nose. He's letting out terrified whimpers. Eddie is terrified too.

"Shut the fuck up!" His father screams at the boy, the car swerving dangerously and someone honks at them. Hot tears track down Eddie's face and he hiccups out a sob. His father rounds on him next, "Shut the fuck up!" He repeats, this time lashing out towards his own son.

The boy is cowering against the backseat, blood and tears on his face as Eddie shrinks into his own seat. What thw fuck is happening?

"Jesus fucking Christ. Shut up shut up shut up." His father is losing control, panicking. Eddie knows to keep himself scarce when his dad gets like this, violent and unpredictable, but he can't run while trapped in a moving car.

Eddie can't run away. His throat feels like its closing, like there's no oxygen in this stolen little car. Maybe the other kid sucked it up for himself. He can't run away. The doors are locked and they are kidnapping someone and he can't get away.

His father is shouting, rage in his tone but the words become jumbled and lost in the ringing thats taken over Eddie's ears. The other boy is crying, the sound of alarm like battery acid along his nerves, tingling and burning and awful.

Eddie doesn't register what he's doing until he has his hands on the wheel, trying to wrench it from his father's hold. There's screaming, and the blair of car horns, but Eddie just wants to make this night stop, wants to make the boy stop crying because it's making something primal in Eddie terrified, wants his father to just pull the car over because this is too fucking much.

The world goes sideways, crunching metal and glass and then Eddie feels the cold gentle snowfall against his face. There's warmth dripping from his hairline, and lights blur in and out of focus. Sound is muffled, and his brain sluggish when he turns to look around.

His father is there, head pushed against the shattered windshield at an awkward angle, red stark against his pale skin. His eyes are closed, his body still. Pain laces through Eddie and he cries out as he shifts away from the sight. The world is sluggish and slow. He smells pine and salty tangy blood.

He hears another whimper and turns and behind him the boy is still there, still huddled down and trembling with wide brown eyes in the backseat. Glass glitters in his hair. It looks kind of magical Eddie thinks in a daze.

A siren cuts through the fog he's in, snapping the world back into focus and it's like a dip into fridge waters. There's so much at once. Eddie can see the flash of red and blue, drawing closer.

Cops. Oh God cops. He can't be here. He looks to his dad, still unmoving and slumped against the steering wheel. He will never be able to drag him out in time. He won't be able to stop the cops from finding them like this.

He hears the boy shifting in the back and then the crunch of metal as he shoves the door open. Eddie scrambles out of the car right after, adrenaline punching through his veins.

The boy stands, legs trembling and puts his arms around himself to stave off the cold. The lights draw close, bathing him in the colors and once again Eddie's brain fizzles just a bit, caught off guard at the sight.

He doesn't have time to think, can't come up with a plan or a story to get his dad out of this. But he can run now. He can get away. The forest looms dark ahead of them where they've wrecked the car up against a row of pines.

Eddie stumbles up, worn out shoes sliding in the snow and he heads for the tree line. He stops just at the edge when he hears the boy again, a soft scared sound warbling out of his throat.

Fuck his father for getting them into this mess. Fuck his father for hitting the poor kid. Fuck his father for making another little boy cry. Eddie's used to it. Eddie can handle it. His heart bleeds to hear it come from someone else.

Even still, there's something inside him that knows he can't let his dad get caught kidnapping some kid.

Eddie whirls around and sprints to the boy, grabbing his hand tightly in his own. "Come on." He hisses to him. "We have to run now." And then he tugs him along into the dark safety of the forest as the lights pulls up, the cop car skidding to a stop.

"Wait, but-" the boy protests, but doesn't stop keeping pace behind Eddie.

"Please." Eddie pleads, because he doesn't know what they are doing, but he knows cops are bad news and he knows his dad will go to jail again but maybe it won't be so long if he doesn't have a fucking kidnapping charge to add to the car theft. "Please just trust me."

They lock eyes, brown mirrors of terror, and there's no reason to trust him at all, but he feels it, the chance that maybe he will.

And he does. The boy nods and goes quiet and picks up the pace, his chilled fingers squeezing onto Eddie's like a lifeline as they stumble through the woods.

They can't see the lights or hear the sirens anymore when they finally slow down. Their breath visible in the cold night air, both panting and shivering from the temperature and the nerves. Eddie can't find it in him to drop the warm point of contact between them.

Eddie doesn't know what he's going to do. He could go home to his mother, probly still numb to the world around her, but the cops would be there soon enough. He can probly stay at a friend's but then there's the problem of the kid he's dragging around that has a bloodied face and a quickly darkening bruise on his eye.

"Where are we going?" The boy asks him, loud in the quiet of the night.

"I-" Eddie stumbles over his words, grasping for an answer. "I dont know." He hears the resignation in his own voice, the lost quality.

The boy squeezes his fingers and its grounding. His tears have all dried. "It's okay. I dont know where to go either." He runs his other hand through his hair and some glass tumbles out and he giggles. Eddie smiles at him. Its an adorable sound. He knows its probly just the high from the adrenaline making they giddy but. Its nice. "Your dad is kinda scary. Is your mom nicer?"

"No." Eddie says automatically. "Well yeah, but not really. She doesnt say much"

"My parents don't say much either. To me. I mean they say alot, just not like. To me. " The boy trails off. "I'm Steve by the way."

"I'm Eddie." This is weird. Small talk with a boy he and his dad had unknowingly kidnapped. Really weird.

"My dad will be pissed about his car. He just bought it." Steve says and Eddie cringes.

"I'm sorry." That doesn't feel like enough. "I'm so fucking sorry. He, my dad, we just wanted to have a good Christmas. We didn't know you were there."

"Its okay." Steve says easily, like he wasn't just a sobbing mess. "I mean it sucks and my face hurts but. Well my dad probly didn't even remember I was in the car either. So. " He shrugs. "Is your head okay?"

Eddie had forgotten about his head, but he reaches up and feels the blood, sticky and congealed and clumping itchy. It hurts when he presses in tentatively, but not the worst he's ever had.

"I think its okay. It doesn't hurt much. Is your face okay?"

"Does it not look okay?" Steve looks a little panicked again, reaches up and touches his nose gingerly.

"No! No it looks good" Eddie tries to reassure. "Pretty as a peach Stevie. Just a little bruised. " and then he cringes because did he just say that?

"Oh." Eddie can't tell what kind of tone that is. Waits for the other boy to get angry, but he doesn't. Just keeps pace as they walk along.

"So should I just take you home?" Eddie asks, because they kinda need to make a plan. They can't keep wandering the woods all night.

But Steve's face kind of scrunches, then winces when there's pain at the movement. "Where are you gonna go?"

Eddie isn't sure. His mind scrambles to think of a place to go. Uncle Wayne lives in the next state over. He could probly stay there until things cool off a bit. His mother will come out of her daze to come get him eventually.

"I think im gonna go to my Uncles? He lives in Indiana."

"How are you gonna get all the way to Indiana?" Steve asks, eyes wide and brown and curious.

"Hitchhike? Or there might be a train that goes that way i could hop on." Its winter and cold, so maybe the train isn't the best idea. But well, he doesn't have much of a choice.

"That's so far away though." Steve's got concern glittering in his eyes. "Is that safe?"

"Safer than going home. The cops will see our footprints in the snow. They'll probly go to my house soon as they lock up my dad."

"Can I come?"

Eddie stops walking, sways in place. What? Steve stops beside him and turns to him.

"Why would you wanna come with me to Indiana? We just kidnapped you!"

"Well your dad kidnapped me technically, which apparently was an accident. You tried to stop him. You tried to protect me." Steve looks so earnest. He looks pretty in the moonlight, soft snowflakes falling around them. "And I can return the favor if I go with you. Protect you till you get to your uncles. Then I can call my parents to come get me."

And thats such a crazy leap of logic. Steve isn't any bigger than Eddie is, all gangly teenage limbs and hadn't really put up any fight while they were in the car. Its such a stupid idea.

But there's warmth blooming in Eddie's chest because yeah, it might be kinda nice to have some company. Safer for sure, and if they did take the train they could huddle together to keep warm instead of risking getting the wrong kind of trucker pulling over to give them a ride. Maybe they could even be friends.

Thats stupid. A rich boy being friends with trailer trash who tried to steal his car and then wrecked it with him in it. But no matter how stupid, it's a nice thought. Maybe they could just play pretend for a few days. They weren't too old for that yet.

"Okay. Yeah okay." A laugh bubbles out of him because its rediculous, but Steve laughs too. "You can be my knight in shining armor, escorting the runaway rogue after a heist gone sideways."

"You're weird." Steve says, but there's no malice in it. Just mirth tinged with confusion.

Eddie tightens his fingers around Steve's and turns them south, towards the rail yards where they can hop on a train.

(I just started typing and then this happened. Feel free to use this, expand on it, whatever. I just loved the idea of the boys being young runaways together, hopping trains and getting into rough situations and becoming codependent and ending up with Wayne taking them both in and them growing up together and pining since they were kids. I might continue this. I might not. We will see.)

[martianbugsbunny]

I don't think Aziraphale needs any interference from Gabriel to be smitten

[replicantdeviancy]

The way his date spoke of his secretiveness surrounding his occupation, it raised a myriad of questions in the detective’s mind, curiosities of why & what reasons James might have felt so inclined. Was it the church which demanded it of him? Or was it his own particular proclivity towards discretion that he believed might serve him better than candidness? Connor wanted to ask, but he felt the moment had passed with grace, that small opening slipping shut amicably between them. He didn’t want to wrench it open now with his childish demanding, so he held onto those queries, filed them away for a later time, when he might have another opportunity. Right now, he wanted to enjoy their time together, let himself bask in the attention afforded him by that hypnotic gaze & fascinating mind. Priesthood aside, James as an individual was an intriguing man - there was something mysterious about him, unrelated to that which had already been confessed. That enigmatic nature of his was captivating to the detective, who was so knowledgeable in the way of the mind, learned well beyond his years. It was a rare person whom Connor couldn’t completely decipher, & it made him want to keep this man all to himself. Selfish little thing that he was.

Assurances of how James viewed him, sought to know him without casting judgment upon things that couldn’t be helped, made Connor feel so secure in his company, like he was something precious, deserving of protection. The younger man was still astonished just how comfortable he was with James, how effortlessly the priest could quiet his hypervigilant, overthinking mind. He was sensitive & thoughtful, & there was unmistakable sincerity interlinked with sass. The detective picked at his food more than anything, as he was far more interested in what James had to say, starved in a way that would find relief not in nourishment of the body, but of the soul. While Connor had never been exposed to scripture in his youth, he could savor the little verses mixed into their conversations as morsels of intellectualism borrowed from what he assumed were a collection of fables intended to elicit thoughtfulness upon morality. At least that’s how it felt when the priest proclaimed them, peppered them into their dialogues. But this one he offered now, articulate & always chosen with what seemed like such care, felt loving.

The detective couldn’t help the sweet smile that formed with his flattery. “You have a sermon for every situation, don’t you?” he teased before shoving a chip into his mouth, that smile playing upon his features as he chewed, momentarily busying himself gathering the ketchup bottle. There was a mild disappointment when he realized that the restaurant used the glass bottles instead of the squeeze variety, yet with just a little finesse & a bit of luck, Connor was able to get just enough of the condiment out to satisfy the necessity for additional flavor without making a mess. He played it cool, as though he hadn’t momentarily fumbled, & continued to give his date bedroom eyed from across the table while he occasionally picked at his meal. “Not that I mind. It’s not something I was ever exposed to before, but I can appreciate it.” He meant that - bible quotations were a rarity in his life, as the only individuals the detective personally associated with on a regular basis who might utter one were Markus, or his adoptive father. A far different context was involved, as they spoke from a philosophical standpoint.

With James, it felt romantic. Connor suspected there was a fair bit of romance to this man, faintly masked beneath the open flirtatiousness that invited a more carnal perception of his character. The detective was there for all of it, as he had made his own intentions quite clear. He wanted this man; physically, yes, & in any other way James would let him. It didn’t feel too hurried, rushing in like this, willing to go all in. Connor wasn’t the kind of person who half-assed anything, & he wasn’t about to start now. It appeared as though the two were on the same page - James offered up yet another pretty picture of a little holiday adventure in England for just the two of them, & Connor found himself rather taken with the idea. It prompted a quietly eager response. “I’ll be sure to keep my calendar open. It would be a shame to pass up an offer for late night pub food & debauchery.” Never mind that his pulse had slightly elevated with elation at the idea of being allowed into another small piece of his companion’s world, invited to see more of the man who sat before him & eyed him with a wanting gaze. Those eyes made him feel just a little vulnerable in the most titillating of ways, as the detective knew James sought to look beyond the surface & that flawless mask he wore, unafraid to coax his way through the layers of Connors defenses built up over the years.

He really could see himself running away with this man for a time, or forever, if he so chose. Just cast aside doubts & speculations & let somebody else take control for once. Leave it all up to his handsome would-be seducer & relinquish control completely. He found himself longing to visit the cozy little villages of the northern English isle, the windswept coasts at the edge of the Irish Sea, or the stunning villas of Italy. Lounging about like some pretty little thing at the priest's side, where James could admire him freely, secure in the knowledge that the boy was his & his alone.

Such visions endured as their banter continued, as his date informed him of yet another uniquely English culinary delight. “Curry sauce?” The thought gave him pause, & Connor considered it, curious as to how it might taste. “Well, you can’t conquer half of the world & not adopt a few cultural classics,” he teased, never one to let the opportunity pass. “I don’t know. I’m a simple guy. I have an addiction to avocado toast & pumpkin spice lattes.” The remark brought forth a little laugh at his own expense - the detective had been called a basic bitch on more than one occasion, & he wore that title with pride, ever convinced that people who didn’t like cozy lattes were missing out.

But of course, his devilishly handsome companion was there to distract his thoughts, effortlessly stealing away his attention. His sultry flirtations beneath the table were met with delight, matched in fervor. No, the detective didn’t understand what James had said, but the tone in which he spoke that single pretty word had his heart skipping a beat, as did that devilish smile, the unbroken gaze. The touch was returned, causing a faint shiver as his breath caught in his throat that James’ retort. He wouldn’t have minded one bit, & his own wicked little half-smile said as much. “Patience is a virtue, James,” Connor practically cooed, his voice just a bit more hushed, a little husky. “But as a humble sinner, you have me sorely tempted.” If either of them had an ounce of shame, it wasn’t present here. So engrossed in their own little world, Connor couldn't make himself care if anyone heard. “You may just convince me into a confessional booth, yet. As long as we can share, that is.” He let James’ imagination run wild with that imagery, cutting himself another piece of fish to enjoy.

Savoring the moment along with the flavor & texture of his meal, Connor indulged openly in James’ attention. He wondered just how long this thing between them would last, if it would turn into a long distance relationship sooner rather than later. While the DPD had their own proceedings with the case which had brought them together, Rome had its own agenda. It had Connor daring to ask a question that he almost didn’t want the answer to, as the potential heartache to follow had him nervous. “How long do you think you’ll stay?” Not long, he expected. The idea made his chest ache. “I might be presumptuous here, because of Mr. Moore’s passing. But you don’t seem the type to stay in one place very long.” There & gone again like a ghost - it felt accurate, & equally disheartening. Was it too soon to admit that he wanted the priest to stay? “I’m just hopeful that you won’t suddenly disappear on me.”

"Me too. As ridiculous as it might sound... doesn't feel completely terrible to finally admit it to someone. Especially someone outside the usual conscription." By that, he primarily meant those of the supernatural community. At least, that was what James liked to call them, though he knew the Vatican and many of his peers had far more colourful terms for them. But admittedly, despite everything, despite his orders, what he was taught to think about the sometimes seedier sides of the world, he couldn't hate them. Vampires, werewolves, fae, the list was endless, but it didn't mean that every single one of them was evil. He'd met beings from either side, the good, the bad and some who seemed to linger somewhere in between, viewing the world and everything in it with a sense of neutrality. The funny thing was, he could understand every single side, they all had their reasons, he'd seen some for himself, but at the end of the day, it was their actions that really defined them and ultimately made James' decision about whether or not to hunt them down or turn a blind eye and let them go about their business.

That was another layer he may ease the detective into. Demons being real was one thing, but reminding him that it meant Heaven, Hell and angels were real was another, only to be topped by the fact that all manner of other beings existed too. He really meant it when he'd said that it all changed a person's outlook on the entire world. Darkness had a different feel to it, knowing that once the sun went down, it wasn't just mortal night owls that came out for their nightshifts, there were vampires seeping out into the world to start their day only to recoil back into the safety of their homes once the sun began to rise again. Or something as simple as looking up at the breathtaking sight of the full moon and knowing that somewhere, there were people in agonizing pain as their bodies twisted and contorted into a massive beast. That was just the surface, the most known types, the Brit could do on forever about all the different variations of those as well, then keep going for everything else that was blundering around on the planet that didn't quite fit into the human or seemingly 'normal' world.

A conversation for another time. The first hurdle was letting the guy wrap his mind around the whole exorcist thing, any further details could wait, so long as the reality of it didn't hit the guy like a train and send him scampering off as far away from the priest as possible.

Not that he'd entirely blame him, of course.

"I don't know... who am I to judge someone on how their mind works? Coming from someone who's fluent in sarcasm, I reckon there's more than a couple people out there who'd have a thing or two to say about how mine works as well." Perhaps further proven by those few sentences, as if that was even needed at this point. His wit really was the thing that kept him going, softened those hardest moments, whether for him or for others around him. It had worked so far and he wasn't about to try and shed it now. He wasn't even sure he could even if he wanted to, that old saying 'can't teach an old dog new tricks' quickly came to mind. Of course, James could pretend, he could act like someone else for a while if it got him where he needed, or the information he was looking for, but it wasn't something that could keep it up for long, that smart tongue of his was just too sharp to keep restrained for any real amount of time.

"'But the lord said unto Samuel, look not on his countenance, or on the height of his stature; because I have refused him: for the lord seeth not as man seeth; for man looketh on the outward appearance, but the lord looketh on the heart'." Even he found himself amused at how easily the words came to him, smirking a little as he prodded at the battered fish on his plate with his fork. "Sorry, seems my priestliness comes with me even when I'm not in uniform." He teased a little, an evidently amused look sweeping across his face as he cut a piece of fish and shoved it into his mouth. Though after a few happy chews of it, that smile returned again, slyly glancing back down at his food. "Just something you'll have to get used to..." If the guy decided he didn't mind it, or felt that he could stomach all of the clergyman and his little quirks.

It seemed the pair of them already had visions of seeing one another again, maybe even on something of a regular basis, something more than just friends, maybe? Or perhaps he was being too presumptuous, once again needing to remind himself that it was never that simple. For a moment, he could enjoy it though, right? Pretend as if they could go off into the sunset hand in hand and nothing could touch them? "Well, next time I pop back across the pond to the old stomping ground, I'll let you know. A night in the town, couple drinks at a local watering hole, some greasy fish and chips from a late-night takeaway then back to a hotel where we can sin to our heart's content." There was no veil about those last words, barely even an innuendo as he made it quite clear that he did indeed have somewhat -- - carnal, leaning about the man opposite him.

One more sin to add to the list. He'd soon run out of ink at this rate.

He half lamented the fact that he didn't have a house back in England now, long since selling up and making his primary residence in Rome. Most of the time when he returned to the UK, if he was nipping back home to the north of England, he'd reach out to his old friends and let them know he'd be in the area, usually being welcomed with open arms into their homes for the few days that he'd be there. When he was elsewhere in the country, or even in Scotland, Wales and Northern Ireland, he just booked himself into a hotel, mostly sticking to the cheaper side of things. It was mainly when the Vatican itself tried to take some control of where he stayed that he'd be thrown into somewhere a bit more luxurious, making the Brit feel rather out of place. Not that he'd say no to some luxury while it was there, maybe go for a swim, a few bottles of champagne, just to round things off.

Was it wrong that he was already toying with the idea of Connor being there with him? The pair of them lounging around in some fancy suite, wearing big fluffy dressing gowns, with a bottle of champagne on ice next to them? He really needed to slow down, ground himself, feeling not too unlike a young man again with all these fanciful notions springing to mind.

"If you think tomato sauce is beyond the pale, you should see what we put on them at three in the morning." Notably thinking back to many a night merry night that rounded off at a local chip shop where the group would drown themselves in ridiculously battered foods and sauces that would likely be the last thing someone should consume after a hefty night of drinking. "Curry sauce is usually top of the list. Pour that sucker over it and... there you have it, some fine British cuisine. Partly borrowed, mind." A smirk left him at that, not being able to hold it in any longer as he put another piece of fish in his mouth. The only reason he hadn't asked about curry sauce there was because he didn't imagine they had any, and if they did, he'd probably get some strange looks for asking. If they weren't British, there was a strong chance they wouldn't really understand it. He didn't fully understand it himself, now that he thought about it, it was just normal back home.

Yet as he looked back down at his food, going for a few chips this time, it was the foot against his ankle that had the Englishman pause for a moment, sly blue eyes lifting to stare across the table. His smile grew to match his gaze, thoroughly amused as he popped a few chips into his mouth. "Mmm, sfacciato..." The man purred in fluent Italian, not minding whether or not Connor understood him, he liked to think that his manner made it quite clear what he was saying, transcending spoken language altogether. With a growing curve of his lips, he turned his foot, running the toe of his shoe up the inside of the detective's leg a little higher, never breaking eye contact for a single second. "Keep going like that and I just might have to skip to dessert right here and now..." He'd let Connor's mind envision what he meant, already having more than a few ideas himself.

[void-tiger]

Thinking about you, even when I can’t be around you, I want to be better, and want better for myself. I feel brave enough to be ambitious.

And when anxiety isn’t eating away at either of us? I can finally feel safe enough to be at rest. Not need to fade away or else be “on” all the time. (I still want you to feel as comfortable teasing me playfully and cracking jokes directly with me and letting yourself ramble that you are seemingly with everyone else, though. That’s how I truly know I’m connected to someone.)

In short, I miss you. And it has nothing to do with your travels.

[himezoro]

your roman empire with the one piece men

that small gesture or word he said that entered your mind and never left.

starring : zoro, luffy and law !!

word count : 889

author's note : again, i'm so sorry for posting so rarely, working and planning a wedding has to be the most exhausting thing ever, i promise to go through all of your requests and to be more present, tysm for your support ♡౨ৎ⋆.˚ some of these scenarios have been inspired by moments i often think about in my life, can you guess which hahaha??

zoro was smitten with you, and longed taking a step forward in your camaraderie, and everyone with a pair of eyes could see it. so when nami told him he was on errand duty with you and only you today, the swordsman knew it was his shot to get closer to you.

gosh, you were gorgeous walking around the alleys with the wind blowing your hair and diffusing your hypnotizing scent. and there he was, walking by your side like a guard dog with his hands the pockets of his jacket, listening to your enchanting voice.

the errands were nearly coming to an end, and zoro did not dare to "make a move", which he knew he would regret. the alleys got more crowded and he was afraid to lose you, especially since his orientation is not the best, though his senses would always bring him back to you. he knew that.

as zoro listened to you and internally debated on whether he should say something about his feelings or not, his body acted on his own, finally closing the distance.

as he gently grabbed your left hand with his right one, intertwined his fingers with yours, before putting both of his hand and yours in his right pocket, acting like it was the most natural gesture on earth.

and the butterflies in your stomach never died since.

luffy has always brought joy to your life and fed your desire for adventures and fun. he lit stars to your world and invited you to let go of pressure and have fun, not minding about third parties' opinions. a lot of people would question your couple association because of luffy's exuberance, but all them be damned. the future king of the pirates brought you back to life and no one could make you happier.

a sudden rain came down pouring on the grand line and the wind blew hard. the entire crew started running around to put back inside the furnitures that were left outside. the rain was so much that it started freezing and you started to run to your quarters. yet, as you were about to finally reach your door, a pair of elastic arms grabbed you and brought you back outside under the pouring rain, their owner sporting a huge, bright grin on his face.

"luffy!!! what the hell are you doing? it's raining and we'll catch a cold!!"

"chichichi, i wanted to dance with you, (y/n)!" he beamed, his eyes adoringly pleading yours to allow his antics as he started twirling you around under the pouring rain.

between laughters only him could exulate, you tried to bring him back to his senses.

"but luffy, honey, we can't dance under the rain! it's cold and there's no music playing!"

luffy did not mind your ramblings as he kept on twirling you around, his hand standing on your the small of your back the whole time, his thumb occasionnaly drawing circles. with a determined gaze and his signature smile on his face, he pressed his forehead on yours, the rain drops falling from his nose to your lips from the closeness.

"together, there's nothing that we can't do (y/n). after all, i'm the future king of the pirates!!"

his laughter hugged the atmosphere and made your heart race even more.

your relationship with law was a secret on the submarine, and it was hard for you to hide your adoration for your boyfriend. after all, what wasn't there to love? law was smart, composed, mature and commited. yet, sometimes, it felt so easy for him to "ignore" your status in front of the crew or anyone for that matter, which tended to hurt your heart. did law appreciate you the way you did? was it unrequited?

little did you know, law had a hard time not paying as much attention as he would when with the others. because he had a lot of work, even when the others were not around, it did not mean the two of you could see each other. therefore, the soft gestures he wished to cover you with were quite lacking. and of course, he was the one to have asked to keep the relationship a secret, and because of his prideful persona, he would not admit it was not a good idea.

you and bepo were getting ready to work around the submarines for your chores of the day. you were busy going around the submarine with your chores tool and bepo, and failed to notice your shoe laces came undone.

and of course, this would not go unnoticed by law. the captain could not stop himself from going to you with a frown, which surprised (and scared) both of you and bepo.

is there anything you did wrong? why was he looking so pissed off?

"idiot. you could trip and injure yourself." your boyfriend sternly spoke, kneeling to the floor to tie your shoe-lace, leaving bepo dumbfounded and yourself out of breath, with a racing heartbeat.

"you know i don't want you to get hurt." he said getting up, his hot breath tickling your cheek in the process, his warm hand resting on yours, silently promising to show his adoration for you like you deserve.

and you swore you could still feel the warmth of his hand from that day again.

[flametrashiraarchive]

Kyojuro Rengoku x Boobs

No one asked for this but sometimes you've just gotta do things for yourself.

NSFW beneath the cut

Oh goodness

Oh gosh.

The first time he sees you his poor brain short circuits.

He just stares

Not at your chest. No he cannot look at that, his head will explode.

Just at the air above your head; smiling and unblinking.

The other hashira definitely notice. Tengen definitely teases him about it.

"You okay there, buddy?"

"YES!"

"You sure? You're looking a little flustered."

"I'M FINE!"

"Hmm... you look like you could use a lie down... I know where you can find a couple of pillows to lay your head on..."

*chokes*

When your relationship becomes intimate though...

The first time he sees them unclothed the poor man can hardly breathe.

You have to tell him he can touch them, he's too flustered to ask.

Such strong sturdy hands trembling as he holds them.

So, so gentle with you.

Constantly checking your facial expressions to make sure he's doing well.

"May I kiss them?"

You have to assure him he can do whatever he likes.

Kisses them exactly as he kisses your lips; slowly, deeply, sighing softly as his tongue deftly circles your nipple.

He looks so pretty when he's sucking your tits, so serene.

Let's face it, Kyojuro is happiest when his mouth is full.

He's smitten. He'll lie there beside you sucking and licking your nipples for as long as you let him.

Every moan or whimper which emerges from your lips makes his cock twitch.

Sometimes after missions he'll just lie with his head on your chest, loving your warmth and softness.

And when you titty fuck this man...

he is a blushing mess, biting the back of his arm, toes curling, hair sticking to his forehead.

The image of his cock pumping between your breasts

And the first time he saw his cum glistening on them

it turned him on so much he immediately went for round 2.

That was the first time you heard him say "fuck"

Actually, it was more of a throaty, breathless "ffffuck!"

Loves to massage them. He bought oil.

Has you sit between his legs with your back to his chest

Those big, strong hands just lovingly caressing your oiled up breasts as he whispers praises and compliments into your ear.

"You're so beautiful, so perfect. I'll cherish you forever."

And he really will.

[ellena-asg]

Jamie, you should practice this in front of the mirror cause here you are like:

"You are the worst pirate 😍😍😍🥰🥰🥰"

[chunghasweetie]

𝐎𝐂𝐂𝐔𝐏𝐈𝐄𝐃 | J.JK

— pairing | stranger!oc x stranger!jjk

— summary | jungkook being dragged to a party ends up with him fcking namjoon’s homegirl

— warning | bad writing (i’m doing my best)

sexy sex, cursing, praising

— word count | 2.9k words

— song suggestion | privacy — chris brown

“Got fuckin’ work in the morning I don’t have time for this shit.” Jungkook grumpily complained once again.

His friends here and there would drag him out to some parties downtown. Nights full of drinking and meaningless conversations with random people.

He used to be a party guy but after his career jump started, he had no interest in going out.

His friend group went out every weekend, bars, clubs, parties, etc. It didn’t matter. Any social event, you’d be sure to see them.

“Stop complaining. You’re here aren’t you?” Jimin groaned. “You’re getting annoying.”

“Whatever.” Jungkook shook his head.

“Don’t know why you’re mad. Maybe you’ll actually get some tonight.” Taehyung added.

“Yes Jungkook! We know hella girls here and I know they be down for some Kookie.” Jimin teased. “Are our usual girls going? What about the Kim girls? Or the Choi twins? Yo see is Y/n is gonna pull up!” He nagged Namjoon.

“I ain’t even check. Do it matter? You’ll hang with anyone.” Namjoon rolled his eyes in response.

The men eventually pulled up to the function, hearing the loud music blaring from the outside before they even went in.

“Smells like weed and cheating partners, my favorite.” Taehyung inhaled. “Aren’t you excited Jungkook?”

Jungkook glared in response, still annoyed.

The men flashed their IDs to the security at the front before entering.

His friends weren’t wrong about the smell. It grew stronger with each step, it burned into his nose.

“Ah shit my main ones already here!” Jimin pointed at a group of skimpy dressed girls dancing near the bar, “Hey ladies!”

The men walked their way, girls giggling at their enthusiasm.

“Ladies.” Taehyung smooth talked them, making them giggle and shy away.

Except one anyway.

“We missed you!” One of them pouted, attempting to be cute.

“Yeahhh! Jiminie it’s been a week why haven’t you texted me?” The others screechy voice could make Jungkook’s ears bleed.

“Oh my gosh.” One of them froze. “Omg omg omg!!! Jungkook finally came!! You brought him!” She jumped in excitement.

“Woah!”

“He’s so handsome in person!”

“How’d you get him to come out? Who cares! I want him to dance with us!”

“Come on girls.” Namjoon calmed them. “Let him breathe, he not used to the spotlight like us.”


Jungkook shot him a glare. “You act like I’m scared of em’.” He mumbled

“I know you not.” Namjoon shook his head. “But one of them, you might be.”

“What?”

“Fuck, it’s hot in here.” A voice came from behind the other girls. “Can you guys move out the way? I’m tryna get another drink.”

And his heart stopped.

He had never imagined he’d see the most beautiful face at some ghetto underground function.

“Hey Y/n.” Namjoon greeted, giving her a side hug.

“Hey Joon.” She smiled, turning to Jungkook. “You brought your other friend.” She smiled his way, waving.

He just stared back at her, with a dumb look on his face.

“What’d I tell you? Told you he wouldn’t talk.” Namjoon shrugged.

“It’s cool.” She shrugged. “Probably won’t see him again.”

“This why I can’t stand either of you. Never want to go out and live up your youth!” Jimin interrupted, two girls on his arm.

“Because some of us actually have lives outside nightclubs.” She rolled her eyes, refacing Namjoon. “Hold my purse? I need to go to the bathroom real quick.”

Namjoon nodded and she walked off.

“Bad as hell huh!” Namjoon blurted, bro-hugging Jungkook.

“She’s cool.” Jungkook tried to stay nonchalant.

“He’s lying!” Jimin laughed. “Nah we knew you’d like her that’s why we begged her to come out too!”

“You have got to be kidding me.” Jungkook groaned “You guys are annoying as shit.”

“Eugh look at him! My man’s smitten!” Jimin pretended to swoon, making all the girls laugh.

“Nah. She pretty yeah, but that’s about it.” He shrugged.

The man was lying through his teeth.

That weed smell? Turned to straight vanilla when she walked his way. His attitude? Complete 360.


Damn was she pretty. They didn’t even meet her here they had to drag her out.

The comment she made to Jimin? Instant green flag.

He felt more delusional than the time Taehyung through a Las Vegas stripper actually loved him.

He shook his head, ignoring his heart pounding out of his chest.

“Whatever man. Get this man a drink!” Taehyung flagged down the bartender.

“Okay I’m back.” Y/n grabbed her purse from Namjoon. “Thank you.”

“No worry about it. Yo, my boy said he’ll buy your drink. Get whatever.” Namjoon told her, winking at Jungkook.

“Really?” She rose her eyebrow, turning her attention to Jungkook.

“Uh— Yeah I got you. Get whatever.” Jungkook swallowed.

Namjoon made eye contact with the rest of the boys, signaling them to move away from the bar so they could be alone.

“I’ll take a Malibu Bay Breeze.” She ordered.

He ordered after her, “I’ll just take a Gin and tonic.”

“Sorry they’re annoying.” He apologized for his friends. “But I haven’t formally introduced myself, my names Jungkook.” He put out his hand.

“Y/n.” She shook Jungkook’s hand. “I heard you don’t like coming out like that huh?”

His lips curve into a slight smile. "Nah, I ain't really a party guy. My boys dragged me out.”

“But now that you hear, I'm glad I came." He takes a sip of his drink, eyeing her. “They never mentioned you before.”

The bartender came back around with their drinks, the two thanking them.

“I don’t come out like that either.” Y/n replied, sipping on the drink she was just served. “Namjoon and I dated a bit in college but now we just cool. He just asked me to come out tonight to hang out with you guys.”

His eyes widen briefly. "Oh so you know Namjoon, huh?”

She nodded.

“Well, I gotta say, Namjoon's got good taste.” His eyes linger on her face, then slowly drift down to her body. “Real good taste.”

“Yeah you think so?” She chuckled, “You definitely have a good eye.”

"Oh, you have no idea.” He leans in closer, growing more comfortable and confident. “Like I’ve said, I'm not really into the whole party scene, but if I had known there'd be beautiful women like you here, I'd have come more often."

“Really?” Her eyes widened. “I didn’t think Namjoon would pull up with a friend I wouldn’t find immature and annoying.”

“Well, I’m glad I'm not disappointing. And just so you know, I'm far from immature."

“You ain’t gotta tell me. I can see you compared to the boys. You’re more reserved than them” She responded.

"That's one way to put it.”

Jungkook reaches out and brushes a strand of hair behind her ear, “I like to think I'm more... refined. More put together."

He was pulling out the stunts now.

“I can tell.” She grinned.

Y/n was definitely giving him a major ego boost. Not in a desperate way, enough for him to want more.

“Refined and interested.” His voice dripped with passion. “So tell me, Y/n, what else can you tell about me based on first impressions? Since you’re so observant.”

“You seem to be very forward, I can already pick that up.” She chuckled. “Might be the playboy type.”

“Forward, yes. Playboy? I don’t know about that one Y/n.” He leans back slightly, “Hey now, I’m not that bad.” He grinned.

“But I won’t lie and say I don’t enjoy women.” He admitted."

“How’s that working out for you? Since you never go out.”

"Well, it's not like I haven't had options. He leans in close My bed's not empty every night, if that's what you're implying.”

He winks, clearly enjoying her company.

“So you are just like your friends is what you’re telling me?” She rose her eyebrow.

He noticed a small change in Y/n’s expression.

He was realizing he was getting a bit ahead of himself, getting cocky.

He needed to slow it down.

“Hell no, I'm nothing like those horny bastards.” He shakes his head, “I'm just... selective. And skilled. But hey, don't go spreading that around."

“Nah, now I have to tell everyone.” She teased.

Back on track.

He gasps dramatically, placing a hand over his heart. "You wouldn't dare. I'd have to take drastic measures to keep you quiet."

“Really? And what are those measures?”

Damn was Y/n beautiful. The light highlighted her face beautifully in every way.

She didn’t even need to show all out because her body was already built so perfectly.

Everytime she spoke it was like honey to his ears.

He grins, his eyes locking onto hers "Well, I could always make sure you forget all about telling anyone.”

He reaches out and gently brushes his thumb across her lower lip. “Or maybe I could just keep you occupied all night, so you don't have a chance to say a word."

She was definitely feeling him as much as he was feeling her.

“I like the sound of that…” She mumbled.

“I’ll be honest Y/n, I usually ain’t the type of guy who asks this to random women but,” He paused. “Would you want to get outta here and head back to my place?”

༊—

He nuzzles into her neck, inhaling deeply. "You smell amazing. His hand slides further up her thigh as he speaks. “Fuckin’ finally got you alone."

They had already made out during that entire taxi ride.

The two barely could barely make it through the door of his house, lips smacking and saliva dripping from their passionate mouths.

As soon as the door clicked shut, he was all up on her, his hands gripping her hips as he spun her around to face him.

His kisses was passionate and demanding, his hands roaming over her body possessively. He broke the kiss only to speak against her lips. “Bedroom. Now. I gotta have you.”

“You’re turning me out” she chuckled against his mouth before heading up his stairs into his room.

He followed close behind, his hands gripping her backside as they entered his room.

He gently pushed her onto his bed, his eyes never leaving hers as he began to unbutton his shirt. “You’re driving me crazy. So fuckin’ pretty.”

“I didn’t even do anything” She mumbled.

“You exist. That’s enough.” He crawled onto the bed, his hands finding the hem of her shirt.

“Lift your arms.” His voice was low, commanding.

He gently lifted her shirt over her head, tossing it aside as he took in the sight of her. His hands roam over her bare skin, his fingers tracing patterns on her stomach.

“Fuck, you're gorgeous.” He murmurs, his lips pressing against her collarbone.

“I’ll be honest I haven’t uh— done anything like this in quite some time.” She confesses.

Jungkook pauses, looking at her with a soft expression. "Okay, baby. Whatever you're comfortable with.”

He continues to kiss and nuzzle her neck, his hands staying above the waistband of her pants. "I just want to be with you, however you need me to be.”

That almost immediately set her off. It was the bare minimum yes, but she couldn’t help but smile.

She grabbed him by his hair and crashed her lips back onto his and sloppily made out with him once again.

His response was equally fervent, his hands gripping her hair as he deepened the kiss.

His body covered hers, his hips grinding against hers. He broke the kiss to trail his lips down her body, his tongue darting out to taste her skin. “Unbutton my pants.” He rasped out.

She nodded, doing as she was told.

He lifted his hips, allowing her to slide his pants and boxers down. His erection sprang free, waiting for her.

He guided her hand to it. “Stroke me. He groaned, his head falling back. “Just like that, baby. Your hand feels so good.”

She had no problem touching him, almost like she had already known his body.

He groaned at her touch, "Fuck, just like that." His hands found her breasts, kneading the soft flesh as he continued to grind against her.

He could feel her heat through her pants and it was driving him crazy. “Take these off— fuckin’ now.”

She loved being directed what to do. He was demanding and instructed her well. She quickly slipped her pants off, leaving herself in a dark red glittery thong she didn’t think anyone would’ve seen.

His eyes darkened as he drank in the sight of her. He ran a hand up her thigh, his touch rough.

"You look...addicting. His fingers hooked into the waistband of her underwear, slowly pulling it down. "Lift up, baby. So pretty”

She nodded slowly, biting her lip as she stared down at him.

He tossed her thong aside, leaving her bare before him. He took a moment to admire her, his hands caressing her thighs. "Spread your legs for me." His voice was low, almost a growl.

She slowly spread out her legs, her heat throbbing for him.

He settled between her thighs, his eyes locked on her center.

He reached up to spread her lips open, exposing her to his gaze. "You just pretty from head to toe." He murmurs, his thumb rubbing gentle circles against her clit.

"I'm going to eat you out until you can't remember your own name." He smirked in excitement.

“Jungkook” She whined, mesmerized by his words.

He grinned up at her, his breath fanning over her heated center. “I’m just getting started.”

He leaned in, his tongue flicking out to taste her.

He explored her thoroughly, his tongue delving deep inside her.

“Oh fuck” A curse word slipped from her lips, not expecting his warm and wet tongue so soon.

“Fucking amazing. Tastes so fucking good.” He mumbled against her head.

He chuckled against her, the vibration causing her to shudder. “Perfect girl.” He continued his assault, his hands holding her thighs apart as he devoured her.

“You’re fuckin’ good at that” She hummed, mind numb from how overwhelmed she was with pleasure.

He could feel her walls clenching around his tongue, her juices dripping down his chin.

He lifted his head, his chin glistening as he looked at her. “And I’m just getting started.”

He climbed up her body, kissing her deeply so she could taste herself on his tongue. His hands wrapped around her wrists, pinning them above her head. “Keep them there.”

He leaned over, grabbing a condom packet he had previously tossed on the bed. He ripped it open with his teeth and slid it over his length.

“Now just let me know if I need to go slow okay? Gotta let me know if you’re hurting.” He kissed her forehead.

“O-Okay.” She nodded.

He aimed himself at her entrance, his broad tip stretching her as he slowly inched inside her tight heat.

The two immediately gasped as it went in, exhaling as he fit himself inside her.

He groaned low in his throat, “Fuck, you’re so tight. You weren’t kidding”

“W-Whatever. You’re just too fucking big.” Y/n mumbled.

“Mm but you’re taking me so good beautiful.” He picked up his pace.

Jungkook grunted, burying his face in the crook of her neck as he slowly thrust deeper.

“Take a deep breath, baby. You can do it.” He encouraged her.

“Fuckkkk” She groaned “Shits starting to fit perfectly.”

He pulled back to look at her, a smirk on his face. “That's it, take every inch. Your pussy takes it so good.”

He started to move, his thrusts deep and steady. One hand released her wrists to grab her hip, pulling her into each thrust.

“Feels so good.” She breathed out.

“You have no idea.” He growled, his pace increasing as he pounded into her.

“Fuck, I love this tight pussy.” He reached between them, rubbing her clit in time with his thrusts. “Come on, baby. Let me feel you squeeze my dick more.”

“You’re so rough” She giggled, blushing.

He grabbed her ankles, spreading her legs wider as he continued to rail her.

The sound of skin slapping against skin echoed through the room, mixed with their heavy panting and her screams of pleasure. “That's it, baby. Take it. Fuck.”

She whined “So…Fucking…Mmm…Good”

He leaned down to kiss her, muffling her cries as he continued to thrust into her hard and fast.

His own grunts of pleasure filled the gaps between her moans. “You're so close, baby. I can feel your body gripping me tighter. Let go pretty girl.”

Her body trembled, “Y-yeah.” She was under him, shaking and whining.

He felt her walls clamp down on him, her orgasm hitting her hard. He didn't hold back, letting her cum before quickly pulling out and cumming all over her stomach through the condom.

He quickly rolled over beside her, the two panting.

“You better not tell Namjoon.”

“Oh I have to tell Namjoon.” He chuckled.

“You can’t!” She tried to catch her breath. “Then he’ll be right.”

“About?” He cocked his eyebrow.

“He told me that I would end up going home with you tonight.” She mumbled.

“Oh yeah?” He chuckled. “Worked out for me.” He wrapped his arm around her.

“Worked out a little too well, I actually did it.” She shook her head.

“Mm it worked out for me real baby I got a pretty girl in my bed.” He taunted.

“Whatever! I was supposed to not be here tonight.”

“But are you regretting this?” He stared at her.

“No…”

“Then it doesn’t matter. Let him be right.” Jungkook shrugged. “At the end of the day, I’m the real winner.”

[rie-092]

DEAREST ADVISOR.

❥. yandere! emperor x advisor! reader

• liam luwelton was one of the most famous emperor on the history of lobelia empire. while he was praised for being a good and powerful ruler. he was also famous for being a womanizer who hook up with so many girls yet, he didn't even chosen any of them to be his empress.

• don't blame him, he likes having fun. but he hates when he got attached or tied to something that will hinder him. he was only doing this for his own entertainment after all. no one stayed on his side for so long anyways, well maybe except to the captain of his imperial knights, warren, his childhood friend.

• that was the main reason why he became surprised when warren's younger sister, you, became his advisor. the most amusing part was warren is the one who recommended you. hmm, it seemed like your brother doesn't even care about the fact that liam's mother, the previous empress, fired all the female servants after knowing her son's tendencies to, uhm... seduce them.

• that was the main reason why he was excited to finally meet you. the famous sister of his friend. he wanted to know how long will it take for you to became smitten and obsessed with him? ahh, just thinking about it makes liam so excited.

• but you were fucking different that he expected. who in the hell is in the right mind to greet the emperor for the first time while wearing a damn pyjamas? what the fuck? as far as he knew, you were the damn daughter of a duke. so, what in the hell was wrong with your fashion sense?

• well, keeping your fuvked up fashion aside. you were indeed good at your job. even though you can be pretty hard headed sometimes, you were able to carry yourself with so much confidence and boy, oh boy. he likes it so much.

• maybe, that time when he basically threaten you to wear an appropriate dress to attend a certain banquet with him. was the time when he realized that he fucked up. yeah, his motto that 'no string attached' crumbled down as he saw your annoyed face when the maids' dressed you up with the most elegant dress that he gifted for you. and the fact that you got drunk that night and mumbled some cute nonsense didn't helped either. fuck. the main reason why he got you drunk anyways is to fuck you. but damn, he can't bring himself to do it since you looked so cute while clinging to him for support!

• as a yandere, liam was overbearing and posessive. gosh, this guy is unhinged and practically crazy. he's an emperor for the petesake! he killed his siblings to ascend to the throne. so don't expect that he's a nice guy!

• those times that he escaped the palace just to go outside and hook up with girls? yup, he stopped doing that for you. expect that while working, his eyes were focused on your every move. you talk to other guy other than him and warren? expect that he will be fired the next day. and why is that? well, it's your fault.

• he was now fine with you working in your pyjamas, you're so cute wearing that after all! but, in exchange he will increase your workload 10x because he knew that you always goes home after finishing your work, he just wants to spend the whole day with you!

• don't even think of quiting, darling. because liam will not let you to do so. unfortunately, he was able to wrap his pretty fingers around you with you being unaware of it. ahh, he just loves how clueless you are when liam fired all the male servants on his palace and replaced it with the female ones to make sure they you won't be able to flirt with them while working.

• all in all, liam is head over heels for you. he wants you for himself to the point that he spread the rumour about you being the next empress of the prestigious lobelia empire. just to shackle you by his side.

• but of course, your usual playful older brother doesn't like it at all. so be ready, because just like a prince on the fantasy stories that the two of you read before. he will do anything to save you, his precious little sister even if it means he needs to burn down the whole empire and kill liam for you. i mean, when you were a kid, you mentioned that you wanted to be a ruler. so just sit back and let your big brother, warren do the work <3.

“ our love comes first, everything is secondary.”

[angelwhisp3rs]

✧˚ · . 7 minutes in heaven

Pairing: RE2!Leon x Fem!Reader

Summary: Leon gave his girlfriend the best gift ever - his virginity ❤

Tags: Smut; fluff; p in v; oral (f); loss of virginity; leon is desperate; they are in love your honor

Notes: IM BAAAAAACK! Had to take a week off to focus on my studies, but now im free! Was supposed to post this earlier, but i got lazy!

Minors do not interact!!

After dating for quite a while, it was visible that Leon was a great boyfriend, he was confident in everything he did, he paid attention to the little details and was always surprising her. That’s why, on her birthday, he decided to give her something much more special - his virginity.

At first, it was weird talking about it, he was a grown adult, with a job and everything, and he still had his v-card intact. He was so focused on his career that things like that never really mattered to him. That’s until she came along, and he knew that he wanted to share something so personal with her, and only her.

Setting the mood, he woke her up with a nice bouquet of her favorite flowers and a warm breakfast, the meal eaten while they shared sweet kisses and sweet nothings. He hated that both needed to go to work, the day passing slower in his mind since he was anxious for the night.

When the night fell, both felt giddy - Leon because he was finally getting a taste of sex - something his colleagues always boasted about - and her because the man was making her day so perfect, she had no idea how it could get any better.

At dinner, she noticed him more fidgety, as if he had something on his mind. At first, Leon wanted to play it cool, being a gentleman and serving her for the entire night, but the moment he saw her red inviting dress, his dick decided that he wanted to do the thinking, not his actual head. The slit on her dress showed her soft thighs, and he could only wonder how good they would feel wrapped around his head as he fucked her with his ton-gosh, he needed to focus.

“Baby, you seem worried. Is something the matter?” She quietly asked him, worried that something might have happened.

“No, it's fine, love. Just thinking how pretty you look” he half lied, smiling sincerely at her as he caressed her hand, looking completely smitten by the woman sitting in front of him.

She blushed at his comment, he was always an expert in making her feel so loved.

For now, she chose to drop the matter, just wanting to enjoy the evening with him.

'•.¸♡ ♡¸.•'︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵'•.¸♡ ♡¸.•'

Dinner was amazing, the food was spot on. They walked around a park nearby, enjoying the flowers falling and making the scenery movie-like. They talked and laughed, now filling their hearts after filling their stomach.

As they headed home, Leon felt his heartbeat quickening, but took deep breaths- the night wasn't over yet.

He softly guided her near him, wrapping his arms around her as they shared a deep and passionate kiss, moving his hands all over her body and tightening his grip around her hips.

“Love, want to go to our bedroom? Don't want this night to finish yet” he whispered against her lips, their saliva making everything more wet and intimate.

She looked surprised at him, since she knew from the beginning that he was still a virgin, and was always supportive and patient with the man, never wanting to rush things. The woman nodded, being guided to their room as they still didn't break their hold and deep kisses.

Feeling a rush, Leon pushed her into their bed making her yelp a bit, earning a sorry look from him. God, she was not a ragdoll Leon, stop thinking about porn!

“Baby, we don't need to do this, you know that, right?” She asked him with a smile, watching as he moved to hover her body

“Really want to… I’ll be good to you, baby” he whispered as he pressed kisses to her neck, clumsily pushing her dress up

If it wasn’t such an intimate moment, she would’ve laughed as he tried to push her dress out without even realizing that it had a zipper on the back. Ending his misery, she gently pulled him back and zipped the clothing down, laying on their bed in her black underwear (thank god she decided to wear matching ones today!).

Like a poor and desperate horny boy, the first thing he did was press his face against her tits, wanting to suffocate himself on her chest. She giggled at his eagerness, watching as he mouthed and pressed open mouthed kisses on her cleavage, as his hands kneaded them. 

Not waiting anymore, his hands traveled to her back, reaching her bra clasp. He grunted in dissatisfaction as that task proved to be harder than it looked - god, are those things indestructible? Once again, pitying him, she simply reached back and undid her bra in a swift moment, making Leon look at her dumb founded “How the fuck did you do that?”

“Practice” she giggled “you’ll get to be as good as I am the more you do it”, and then gave him a wink

He chuckled, but turned his focus back to the task at hand, and threw her bra somewhere along their room (he genuinely had no idea where it went). He tried not to be a creep, but he couldn’t help but stare at her boobs for a long time, only breaking the spell when she giggled at his hungry eyes. Her chest on show, his mouth worked directly on her nipples, sucking and wetting awkwardly. The man was just too eager to try to get a taste of her, and the soft feeling of her buds on his tongue made his hips twitch, desperate from any friction.

Even if it was messy, she could only moan and tug his hair in pleasure - even if uncoordinated, his tongue felt so delicious, her cunt gathering arousal quickly. “F-fuck, baby… more” she moaned as her hands didnt leave his blonde locks.

He was completely in ecstasy as he heard her needy voice, nodding as he kissed his way down her body, playing with the lace on her underwear. He softly kissed the fabric and pulled it down, almost ripping it because of how excited he was. He looked at her wet cunt and gaped, as if he was seeing paradise for the first time.Quickly, he fumbled as he removed his shirt, opening his belt and laying on his front, putting her legs on his shoulders.

What now?

'•.¸♡ ♡¸.•'︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵'•.¸♡ ♡¸.•'

Well, Leon had to think of every porn he has ever watched - not that those were accurate and all, but he could at least mimic the movements. But as he watched her wet cunt throb, everything flew away from his mind, he just craved her, and her taste. Before she could say anything, his face moved forward and he licked her clit wantonly - he wasn't even timid about it, his tongue was firm and sure, making her body arch from the bed, her gentle hands moving down to tug his hair.

“Fuck, Leon!” she whined, sensitive from his eager muscle moving against her bundle of nerves

“Wanna make you feel good, baby… need you to drench my face” he said in muffled words, as he still ate her out, his hands holding her hips and thighs tightly.

The only thing guiding Leon was her reactions at where his tongue passed, her moans getting especially louder when he rolled and sucked the little button above her cunt lips, so he kept his work there. If Leon died now, he would die as a happy man. Her pussy tasted sweeter than his favorite candy, and the wet sounds caused by the suctioning sounded so, so sinful, he just couldn’t stop. 

He was so focused on the sensation that he didn’t even realize when her legs started shaking around him and the grip on his hair grew tighter. “B-baby, G-gonna cum!” she moaned desperately, looking down at him and biting her lips, her cheeks being fully flushed.

“Please, cum on my tongue, need it, need to taste it…” he rambled as he sucked and rolled his tongue viciously, his rough hands holding her hips down, not letting her squirm away from his grasp. 

Soon, she saw fireworks and exploded against his mouth - of course that man made a woman cum on his first time, he was Leon S. Kennedy after all. She laid shaking on the bed, pushing his head away and closing her legs for the moment, as Leon had to lower his pants and underwear, watching her explode almost made him cum in his pants, he needed to feel her now.

He gently parted her legs again, his hands caressing and feeling up her body as he was addicted to the feeling of her skin, as they shared soft kisses. When they felt she was ready, he slowly rubbed his head against her entrance and clit, making both moan - Leon  had to think about very disgusting things, otherwise he would cum like a horny teen and he wouldn’t even be inside her. 

“Are you ready, baby? We can back down if you want to” she assured him once again, caressing his face lovingly as both looked at each other with a shared and intense passion. 

He shook his head, smiling and kissing her forehead “love, I adore when you are sweet, but I need to fuck your brains out or i’ll go insane” he chuckled, and his hand guided just his tip in.

Just the tip, and she swallowed him with vigor, making Leon let out a choked out moan. It was only the head, and yet, he felt his cock throbbing and twitching, he really needed to hold back, otherwise this would end sooner than he would’ve liked.

Slowly, his entire shaft was inside her, and Leon swore he was seeing stars, just like those old cartoons. Holy shit, is that what sex was like? Now he gets it. He should call off work this week and spend with her in bed, fucking and working up his stamina.

“You can move, baby” she whined impatiently. God dammit, woman, mind your tone! If she kept talking to him like that, he would absolutely blow in his first thrust.

He nodded and began moving, and if he wasn’t hitting that gummy spot, she would be laughing, the sight adorable - his face was red as if he was holding his breath, and his mouth was hanging open as he watched his cock slide in and out, getting creamier and creamier with her cunt juices.

Wrapping her legs around him, she pulled the man into a kiss, making his knees buckle and his hips move in a grinding motion, his hair ticking her puffy pussy as their moans were drowned in their kisses. Her nails scratched his back, being enough to create red lines but not really hurt him. 

While both were losing their minds, the only sounds in the room were loud moans, some bed rattling and their skin slapping. His hips - thankfully - met a more pleasurable rhythm, not too fast or slow. Enough to make him feel his cock on her cunt, while she felt her wet pussy molding into his dick.

“Fuuuuck, can’t hold it, can’t hold it” he moaned in almost unintelligible moans, holding their hands together as his hips started to falter and her thighs went more rigid as the pleasure waves flowed through them.

“Come inside, baby, mark me, let it all go” she said aiding him

Soon, like her words casted a spell on him, he filled her up as her walls closed on him, thankfully cuming together. Both laid there regaining their breaths, Leon resting his head right against her heart beat - the best song he has ever heard. She guided him for another gentle kiss, both smiling like idiots in satisfaction.

Leon was a full man now! And he didn't even embarrass himself, knowing he made her come and fucked her properly! He looked at the wall on the nightstand to verify how long he managed to go and… wait, what the fuck? Only seven minutes? No, no, he needed to do better! 

Pulling him away from his paranoia, she looked at him with heart eyes and whispered “That was the best birthday ever. Thank you for making all of this special. it was perfect”

For the first time in the night, he blushed and nuzzled into her neck, whispering back “It really was. Couldn’t imagine doing this without you. Thank you for being so patient and staying”

“Would wait forever if it meant being with you” she simply answered, making his heart soar.

Leon was fine with the seven minutes now, after all, they had a lifetime to make up for it.

[undermine-the-instinct]

THIS IS AMAZING?!?! JUST?!?!?

I love love LOVE, the prose in this; it feels like I'm reading an actual play about two "not quite" lovers and just???

The night sky shudders into shades of endless plum blue, kissed with silver-burnt stars and the gentle curve of a sweet moon. 

I'm sure you didn't even mean that to rhyme but it just perfectly sets the mood. Perfect setting and ambience.

Like a sweet sinner, a non-believer, slipping into the back pew in the house of a love-spun god.

I quite literally gasped at this line. It's so beautiful and Kaeya is so enamored it makes my heart trill. The image it invokes of a heartsick love drunk fool... 💘💘.

He sighs in his sleep and turns towards your touch, chases it in his dreams. 

🥺🥺🥺 My heart...ngl I LOVE this little trope and to see it here?

You hum softly, an ancient little melody from a faraway land, and it stays in your head the entire day, with thoughts of a lost prince who, in your mind, surely looks like Kaeya; handsome and refined and beautiful. He must be noble and kind and charming like him, too.

And more than anything, his eyes must be stars like his, too, and his hands must be calloused and gentle. 

And it's reciprocated!! I just think it how sweet readers thoughts for Kaeya are, all romantic and soft and fairytale like. Makes me sigh all dreamily ❤️

I don't want to take up too much space or ramble for too long im sure i missed a few other of my favorite parts, but I'm excited to read more!! Off to the second part!

Act I, Part I

|| kaeya alberich x afab!reader || E/18+ || hurt/comfort/fluff || wc: 13k || ao3 || masterlist || Act I, Part II -> ||

When you, a beloved artist and performer of Mondstadt, attract the attention of the Fatui, there is only one person you seek out for help; the infamous Cavalry Captain of the Ordo Favonius, Mondstadt's beloved bastard.

minors and ageless blogs dni, 18+ only

❀ for you are the world (as i am in pieces) - @lorelune ❀

a/n: it is finally here!!! this is apart of a lovely collab with my buddy @lorelune that you should check out!! i've linked their fic above!! thank you so much to @acerathia for beta reading this!!! this is the first act of three that will be posted but this act has been broken into two parts because tumblr hates long posts so i will link that shortly as well! everything will also be on ao3!! thank you so much and i'd love to hear your thoughts!! <33

tags: afab reader (she/her pronouns but is rather gender fluid/binds her chest sometimes and presents both femme and masc), alcohol use, mentions of kidnapping, mentions of stalking/full on stalking from the fatui to the reader, eventual smut (not in this chapter), mentions of heartbreak/abandonment issues, bodyguard au technically, fake dating au technically

SCENE I

Our story begins first in the open night, beneath torchlight and on an ancient, well-loved stage in Springvale. And then our world should open up to the wilderness, to the Mondstadt streets, until we end up in Kaeya’s home; it’s as mysterious and stylish as he is. Everything could or couldn’t tell you everything about him, everything might or might not mean something to the Cavalry Captain. 

The night sky shudders into shades of endless plum blue, kissed with silver-burnt stars and the gentle curve of a sweet moon. 

Kaeya’s eye catches its brilliance, reflects it back like it was made from the very same moonbeam, the very same starshine. 

You roar to life in the darkness.

Fire bursts from your mouth in a red-gold crush of heat, swinging in an arc around your head to illuminate you. 

The audience cheers, hollering and clapping, murmuring excitedly at the way you leap from your pedestal above the stage into a crouch. 

Your costume twinkles, shimmery and scale-like, jangling like mora in the pocket. It’s slinky, baring midriff and thigh, the curve of your bare feet, ankles and wrists adorned in jingling, scale-like jewelry. Your hair is wild, horns twisting out from your head. 

It’s cute, Kaeya thinks, watching with an amused, little smile. 

“The dragon careened from the sky and bore down on the knight!” Your narrator exclaims and with a flash of movement, you and the other actor clash in the darkness. Your fire lights up the stage only briefly, to catch another flash of movement, before plunging back into darkness. And then again, a burst of flames in another sharp picture;

The knight’s sword raised above his head to strike you down. 

Darkness. 

Before your fire explodes out in a plume to make the knight stagger back. The audience gasps. 

You twist and turn and move serpentine, fluid like water, or the licks of your flames. 

Kaeya hasn’t seen you perform in awhile, perhaps years, but it brings back memories of childhood. 

The way you’d light up a room and perform whether it was to sing or dance or entertain.

As a child, you were bursting with it, with freedom and joy. He remembers nights in Ragnvindr manor, tucked away in smoky parlors with adults who cooed to you, who encouraged you to sing for them, to play the piano or violin. He remembers candlelight and the way it seemed to glow brighter for you as you opened your mouth and let all of that wonder out of you. 

Your audience adores you here, too, out here in Springville, at this little outdoor theater which is perhaps just a couple half-hazard pieces of wood nailed together. Nonetheless, you make it feel like the rocky terrain of Dragonspine. 

And by the end, your audience is hooting and hollering, on their feet, perhaps a little drunk, but adoring nonetheless. 

Though it’s nice to see you perform, that isn’t exactly why he’s here tonight. 

He sips at the mug of ale in front of him, leaning back in his chair. 

He waits until you appear again in plain clothes, changed from your pretty costume, fresh faced. 

And my, my are you popular. Everyone stops to talk to you, to snag you, to hug and hold you and laugh with you. He can tell, though, that you’re making your way to him as the night grows later and longer.

He waits.

Until you are in front of him once more, moon a halo above your head. 

“Riveting performance.” He purrs. 

“Captain Kaeya,” you say his name like it bursts sweet and sharp on your tongue. 

He says your name in return, honeyed and slow, taking you in all your glory. 

Then you say, “you came,”  and your smile is an infectious little twist of lips. 

“Of course I did.” He responds easily, looking up at where you’re standing in front of him, and then as if it was innate, only natural of him, “you asked me to.” 

Your eyes flicker just behind him, catch someone in the darkness, before settling back on him. 

Call it instinct, but he feels his hackles rise, hair on the back of his neck stand up. Kaeya knows danger well and can feel it now, the way you can smell a storm that is approaching. 

You offer him your hand, palm up, and in the firelight of the torches around you, it shimmers in his vision, dancing with shadows. 

He quirks a brow at you.

“Your place or mine?” He asks.

“You’re not even going to get me a drink first?” You ask, feigning scandal. 

Kaeya feels the corner of his mouth tick up, “call me impatient.” He says, but he finally puts his hand in yours, envelopes it in his and realizes he has not taken your hand in many years. Perhaps not since you were children together. Your hands have grown, but so have his. Calluses rough up against your smooth, soft palm.

So untouched. So unscarred. Soft as–

“Yours.” You say decisively.

And you pull him up and into the fray of people, into the sweet night, turning away to guide him but with your hand still in his. He trails after you and if it looks suggestive, if there are some hollers and calls to you–

“The good captain, even?” A fellow actor of yours crows, ale sloshing in his mug, “is there no one in Mondstadt safe from your wiles?” 

“Not a soul,” you vow with a laugh and the group roars with cheers, drinks spilling. 

“Don’t tell me you two are leaving already!” Another says, “the night is still young!”

“All the more reason to leave now,” Kaeya sings and there is even more uproar, whistles and suggestive howls. 

You seize his hand tighter and pull him closer, pick up your pace as if to show your eagerness, leaving all their laughs and hollering behind. 

Your shadow persists, though, and Kaeya doubles his step to get closer, to sidle up next to your side. To guard your back. 

“Been awhile,” Kaeya hums, “you must be desperate to have reached out to me.” 

“Well, in all of Mondstadt, I could think of no one else I’d rather have.” You grin at him and the trouble is, you’re being honest. He can feel it, or perhaps he just wants to, that you would want his presence beyond this, beyond–

As you wander over trails and stones back to the city, hand always in his, he helps you along, or keeps after you like an eager dog. He lifts you off of a stone ridge you climbed, hands fitting along your waist like they belong there. He laughs when you dart away from him, chasing after you only to catch you around the middle, letting you yelp and twist in his hold, tossing your head back onto his shoulder to laugh up into the heavens. 

It feels like he’s a child again, a teenager, stepping through time and into another. Nostalgia rips at him, tugs at the seams of him. He wonders if you feel it, too, but doubts it. 

Not with the person loping not too far behind, keeping distance but not too much. Not enough. 

The gates of Mondstadt are alight with torches. 

You walk backwards to face him and for a moment, he really does almost lose his footing, because there is something so bewitching about you. He can’t stop looking, the curl of your smile, or the raise of your brow. It’s a natural sort of beauty, one born from within, he thinks, something in you that’s just so–

Wonderful. 

And then you turn back over your shoulder and take off, pulling him after you. Nimbly, he is your shadow. Footsteps on cobblestone, clattering together, until you yank him into a dark little alcove. You press your back up against the stone curve, pulling him by the front of his uniform so that he crowds you, shrouds over you. 

“Kaeya–” you say his name a little breathlessly and it echoes in Mondstadt stone streets, voice throwing so that someone could hear you. Will hear you. 

He’s quick to catch on, ducking his head into the crook of your neck, though not close enough to touch. 

Your follower has paused at the entrance of this alley. Kaeya  can see the shadow in the torchlight.

You suddenly pinch his ear hard enough to make him yelp a little. 

You laugh, but it’s warm and sultry, head falling back against the stone like you’ll give him more room. 

“Right here?” He asks, but his gaze glances past you, at your follower. 

You nod to his real question, but pitch your voice up in the charade, “please–” 

The sound makes him flush a little. 

And it makes your shadow scurry away when he realizes what you’re getting up to, clearly embarrassed, or in the least, shy about being a voyeur. Kaeya fights the urge to snort. 

He does realize your hand is still curled in the front of his uniform. And the column of your throat is exposed, pretty, and open for the taking. 

He focuses squarely ahead, listening closely to see where the footsteps have gone. 

He only catches the grin on your face out of the corner of his eye, before you suddenly let out a louder, lewder moan. 

He shushes you, almost reflexively, but he has to fight the urge suddenly to laugh. You do start to giggle this time and although it still sounds deeply intimate, he covers his hand over your mouth so you can laugh into his palm. So that you won’t blow your own ruse. 

You keep this up until he finally takes your hand and pulls you away from the wall. You stumble with him, until he’s got you tucked up under his arm. 

You’re still laughing a bit, clearly pleased with yourself, as he takes you a strange, meandering way to his own place. Your follower is gone, perhaps for the night off, assuming that you’ll be in Kaeya’s bed. He wonders if your shadow will find you again come morning or if he’ll scout out Kaeya’s own place for the night.

He leads you into his own apartment building, up the wooden stairs, and into his home. For an apartment, it’s rather spacious. Open. There’s a balcony off the bedroom, one that overlooks a great deal of Mondstadt’s streets. The bustling world below and the peaks of Mondstadt’s skyline above. It’s his favorite part. 

Once the door is shut and the lock nestled into place, you finally drop the act. 

His hand leaves yours, body leaves yours, for the first time that he’s seen you tonight and instantly, he can feel the rush of cold ease in. 

“Make yourself at home,” he says, slinging off his own coat, setting his boots to the side. 

He wanders in only to collapse on his sofa, eyeing you as you toe off your own shoes and carefully hang your own jacket beside his. 

He forgets sometimes, what it's like, to have someone else here. 

To have a coat beside his own, shoes kissing his. 

“I take it you figured out my letter?” You ask, padding deeper into his home. 

Kaeya smiles, “well, you can imagine my surprise when Jean handed it to me.” 

“Jean saw that?” You ask, eyes rounding out in horror. “Does she think–does she know we’re not actually–?”

“Sleeping together? Romantically entangled?” Kaeya asks, standing suddenly to move to his office. You follow tentatively after him, only to watch him rifle through his desk and produce the very letter in question.

The envelope is covered in lipstick marks. 

“You could’ve been a little more discreet.” He says, before inhaling a little sharply, “did you spray your perfume on this?” 

“Do you like it?” You ask in return, “it’s new.” 

He laughs, low and soft, “it’s nice. I think you traumatized Jean, though.” 

“I wanted people to be too embarrassed to look inside the letter.” You retort, “clearly, I succeeded.” 

“That you did.” He agrees, “and even if they did–”

An excited glow comes to your eyes, “did you figure it out?” 

“Well, I knew it was some sort of code since the content of the letter was—fabricated, to say the least.” 

“What? You don’t remember our clandestine trysts? I’m hurt—“ 

“You’re very clever.” Kaeya says then unabashedly and he thinks you melt a little at the praise. Or at least, you quiet down. “And it seems you’re in quite a bit of trouble.” 

When you speak this time, it’s hushed, like you’re worried someone is listening now somehow. 

“Can you help me? I had no idea who to turn to without tipping them off.” 

“Well, if it’s one thing I’m good at, it’s dealing with secrets.” He muses, but then he gazes at your letter again, perhaps scouring the contents of it once more. 

On the surface, it seems like a love letter, filled with winding, romantic phrases and memories of old; romps under star bright skies and hurried instances in the library. Nostalgic flashes of youth, when you danced the nights away with him. It details a sort of on and off again fling that neither of you can seem to quit. 

But beyond that, there are ciphers, a code to uncover. And Kaeya pulls a slip of paper from another drawer of his desk, lays it out on the surface. Your true message reads very clearly in his messy scrawl;

Help. Fatui watching. Must be careful. 

Kaeya gestures to the chair across from his large desk. You sink down into it with a nervous little breath. 

“How long has this been going on?” He asks and perhaps the air changes, or the way his shoulders settle back. It’s the voice he uses as captain, twinged with authority and coolness.

“I noticed them following me about a month ago. Maybe longer, though.” You answer. 

“Do you have any inclination as to why?” Kaeya asks now and he sets your letter aside. 

You take your bottom lip between your teeth for a moment and Kaeya watches the movement, before you release it. 

“It isn’t a secret that I’m not their biggest fan.” You finally answer. “I tend to toy with them if they get too close.” 

Much like Diluc, you harbor a deep loathing for the Fatui. 

You are a vocal and known defender of Mondstadt’s freedom from Fatui and their meddling hands. Notoriously, you’ve openly mocked them on stage and even worse, outwitted them in social entanglements. At every turn, when they tried to use your family’s name, coerce you financially, or corner you with social politics, you’ve managed to weasel by. They have tried endlessly to get you to bend to their whims, whatever they might be, and you have refused. 

For the past few years, they have tried desperately to get someone as loved and known in Mondstadt in their pockets. 

And for years, you’ve escaped them. 

You’ve done much to outwit them. You’ve caused all out personal brawls between underlings, made a fool of yourself at one of the largest balls between nations, led them on wild goose chases that amounted to nothing, and even gone so far as to reveal salacious scandals to get your way. 

Socially, in a battle of wits, you are a wicked opponent. 

But physically? You are a sitting duck. And as beautiful as those flames of yours are on stage, you’ve never once used them in battle. 

Kaeya remembers you as a child, trying to keep up with Jean and Diluc, well on their way to being knights, and all you did was cry and cry and cry.

It was so clear you were never meant for battle, always been more of a lover, in his mind. Crybaby that you were, you were meant for the arts; your sword a pen, your battle cry a song. 

“No,” Kaeya agrees, “but many people are not fans of the Fatui, to varying degrees of vocalness. I can’t imagine they’d be so foolish as to target the very Heart of Mondstadt for no other reason than your disapproval or mischief now.” 

The world has coined you Mondstadt’s Heart. It’s Light, it’s Shooting Star. You are as close to an adored princess (—and you’d scoff at the idea of royalty, like a true Mondstadtian—) as you can get in this nation and though you carry the bloodline of Imunlaukr, you have spent your days with the everyday man. You traveled and performed and dined and drank with those far from nobility. 

As soon as he and Jean and Diluc had joined the knights, you had already joined an acting troupe. You were already off, free as a bird, to compose and write and perform and sing and dance your way across Mondstadt. Across the world. 

But you always flew back home.

At one point, he’d been close to you perhaps, in his youth. You’d grown up alongside him and Diluc and Jean.

He always assumed, actually, that you and Diluc would—

Well, you’re both the beloved figures of Mondstadt. 

It’s light and dark, truthfully, blessed by the Pyro Archon.

But everything had fallen apart when—

Kaeya had assumed you’d sided with Diluc and never wished to see him again. Or, in the least, you had nothing good to say to him. You’d never been rude to him, but he’d kept his distance nonetheless. 

Perhaps for fear of your scorn. Perhaps he couldn’t face it. Of all the people who could scold him or reject him, yours felt particularly hard for him. He blames it on your otherwise playful and loving nature; to be despised by one of the sweetest of Mondstadt would be hard to stomach. 

You used to write to him, more than just coded letters when you were in grave danger. But slowly, the letters stopped, and he assumed Diluc must’ve said something or—

Your paths were easy to keep from crossing.

Kaeya deals in secrets and shadows and is busy with the knights.

And you deal in brilliant light and open-hearts, your whole life on a stage. 

Nonetheless, he’s surprised by your warmth.

“What are you thinking?” You ask softly and the way you’ve said it makes him think you could tell his mind was spiraling.

Kaeya sets down your letter, “that you’ll have to stay here for the night if you’d like your little shadow to believe your ruse.”

You open your mouth, perhaps to protest, to ask again—what are you really thinking about?

But you don’t.

“I suppose I’ll have to crash on your couch.” You answer, before a wry smile curls at your lips, “unless you’d like to stage a grand argument where I storm out.” 

“You’re still trouble.” Kaeya hums, eyeing you perhaps more fondly than he should.

“And you were my partner in crime once! Don’t tell me you wouldn’t now—“

“I would, if it benefited us.” He assures you, smiling himself, “but for now, I think keeping up a false relationship for the eyes of others may help us a great deal.” 

“Is this your way of asking me out?” You tease. 

“I think it would give me an excuse to be around you frequently to protect you. No one would think twice about two lovers recently rekindled.” 

“Surely, I don’t need—“

“In the least, I’d like to observe your observer.” Kaeya says smoothly, and then, “you’re not seeing anyone else, are you? We won’t have to worry about your real lover, do we?” 

The question hangs in the air for a moment, suspended.

“No,” you say then, something strange in your voice, a little shake of your head, “what about you?”

“I’m far too busy with the Knights of Favonius for a relationship.” Kaeya says flippantly, forcing his voice to remain even. “At least that makes things less complicated.” 

“Right,” you agree and there is a moment of silence as the situation settles around the two of you. There’s a shyness in the silence, a sudden uncertainty. Kaeya does not do well in it. And apparently neither do you, because at the same time, you both try to say;

“You can take my bed for–”

“I’m sorry to intrude on–”

You both laugh a little and try again;

“You’re not intru–” 

“I can’t take your–!” 

Silence again. 

Your eyes meet and there is a smile in the corners of them, laughing eyes, crinkled with their life.

He opens his mouth to speak again but this time, you lurch forward and beat him to it, “I can’t take your bed!” 

“I’ll change the sheets, if that’s what you’re worried about.” He says easily.

“No! It’s your bed and I’ve just–dropped in on your life!” You exclaim, voice pitching upwards. Dramatic little thing that you are.

But Kaeya can’t help but feel as if it’s a little true, not in any horrible way, rather in a way that is worse;

It feels poignant. 

Right, even. 

To have you fall back into his life the way you used to fall as a child, reckless and with wild laughter. 

“Not at all,” Kaeya says and he finds, surprisingly, that he means it, “besides, the couch is comfortable–”

“Then I can take it.” You counter. 

“No, I’m afraid it’s my home and I’ve already decided” 

“Kaeya.” You say, as if to scold him.

He says your name in return, in the same tone, as if to mock you.

Eyes locked again, Kaeya takes you in fully. 

After all these years, you have only grown all the more beautiful. Everyone knew you would be, but somehow you’re more than he remembers, a full bloom, a perfectly ripened fruit. A fledged angel. You’re more than he could ever fathom, somehow in his home, after years, and showing him a warmth and kindness he perhaps doesn’t deserve. 

Faintly, he wonders if he should work up the courage to apologize. 

For what exactly, he can’t name. 

(But for years now, he has felt the urge to apologize. To everyone. For everything. And yet it will never loosen from his throat, lodged there, down deep.)

“Would you like to borrow clothes to sleep in, too?” He asks and if his eye skips down to your body briefly, he is quick to avert it. 

Sheepishly, as sweet as ever, you smile and say, “if you wouldn’t mind.”

“Not at all,” he purrs and then he stands, stretches a little, hands raised above his head. “Shall we?” He asks and begins to move towards the door. 

You stand to follow him.

“Kaeya,” you say suddenly, his name flying from your mouth like a freed bird. 

He pauses in the doorway, the arch between two places; where you are and aren’t. One foot in and one foot out. 

He can tell by the look on your face, so painfully expressive, shuddering with several emotions, that you want to say much. You’re like an open book for him to plainly read, so vulnerable. 

He hopes you won’t say a thing, doesn’t think he can quite bear to hear it. 

“Thank you.” Is what you settle on and it’s soft, painfully earnest. 

Kaeya swallows, hides it all behind an easy, flippant smile, “of course.” 

And he turns away from you, turns his back on your seeking face because he can’t be what you find, doesn’t want you to pry. Your eyes are too searching and he has to be careful, so careful–

He gives you soft, worn clothes of his. He is careful not to look too long at how you fill their shape, or how you look with your hair undone or your face free of stage makeup. 

He is sure all the world wishes to know you this way. 

He tries not to make you laugh or smile and is certainly careful not to hold your gaze. 

He sleeps with his eyepatch on, shirt carefully buttoned and irritatingly twisted up over his body.

He stares up at the ceiling of his living room as you lay in his bed and he forces himself to think 0f anything but, to think of his duties in the morning, or the look on your face all those years ago. 

Why are you being so kind to him?

He turns the question over in his mind like a coin, over and over and over, as if it may land on a side and reveal to him an answer.

He hardly sleeps. 

And in the morning, the birds sing and so do you, humming under your breath as you dorn your clothes from the night before. 

“My great walk of shame,” you sing with a laugh. “Hopefully all of Mondstadt notices.” 

“Wait,” he says and the morning sun makes him lighter, your laugh brightens his whole home, and he disappears into his room momentarily to fetch his bottle of cologne. 

If he were a worse man, he would dab it onto your neck with his own fingers.

But instead, he hands you the bottle, “if you’d like them all to really talk.” 

You laugh again, full bellied and beautiful. So beautiful that you put the morning bells to shame.

You dab it on your neck, against your pulse points, the smell of sweet mint and amber, something boozy, almost like bourbon, hangs in the air and–and you smell like him. And your own perfume, the crush of vanilla and dark berries. 

They’d almost compliment each other.

And then you hang in his doorway like the light beams that linger as the morning turns to day and finally you say, “it was good to see you again.” 

“You’ll be seeing much more of me now,” he replies breezily. 

“And I’m glad for it.” You tell him, “at least something good has come of this.” 

He swallows hard. He averts his gaze from you and onto the Mondstadt streets beyond. The birds that flutter and coo as the day blossoms and grows. 

“Go,” he says gently, “and spread your rumors about us.”

You laugh again and promise to do just that, skip in your step, as you turn to take on the world as if not a thing could touch you. 

And he shuts the door quickly–to his apartment and home, and to his heart. 

He doesn’t dare think about it as he throws the lock into place.

But he’ll hum the tune you were singing this morning for the rest of the day and well into evening.

When he sleeps that night, it is with the thought of your form burning in his bed the night before and he thinks if he prayed much, he’d say oh Archons, what have I done? What have I gotten into? 

What does the world have in store for me now?  

***

SCENE II 

In Angel’s Share, warm and glowing, a love shared between the patrons. 

You— have the uncanny, incredible talent of prying open all that is around you, so that it bursts sweet like a ripe fruit into your waiting hands. You have known this since you were a child; if you listen, the world will reveal its secrets to you. If you sang, something sang back. And when you danced, all was moved with you. 

And now, all that world seems to hang on your every breath, the tavern hushed as your voice carries over the sounds of a lyre. All the patrons’ faces are relaxed, open for you, as you sing. 

Venti plays beside you, fingers plucking carefully, stroking into a fuller sound as your voice carries and rises. 

It’s a slinky little song, playful and flirtatious, heart-warming as the room coos and sighs. Not a soul is spared–and they never are, Venti always tells you with a laugh. You can feel it, the energy that simmers, that you manage to reach for and control. 

You’re singing about love. You don’t do it often. 

But the song is an old one, about young lovers, and petal blossoms. Spring fevers and moonshine. You trill and chirp like a bird, voice soaring and floating above the room. 

Until the last note blooms from your mouth and the patron’s of Angel’s Share erupt into applause. 

You hadn’t planned on singing tonight, only sitting with Venti and Diluc at the bar. But, as what often happens on lovely, slow-warming nights of spring, the tavern fills and the customers beg for a song as they grow drunker and louder. 

You know they will likely ask you for one more—a rowdier one that you will kick up your feet to and dance. You will clap and stomp and pull a drinking man into your arms briefly and everyone will hoot and cheer as you teach someone clumsier than you how to dance to your tune, for a moment so that he might see the world the way you do.

Or hear it with your ears.

They never quite can keep up, but it’s fun nonetheless.

And then, for Diluc’s sake, you will play a slow, soft tune with a violin perched on your shoulder. It will be an old drinking song that you have slowed and made into a minor chord so it rings with melancholy and not cheer. 

But it will lull the patrons and urge them to leave for the night, arm and arm, bumping shoulders.

You will help Diluc clean up and he will urge you to head home, too. Venti will linger, though hardly lift a finger.

For now, though, you retreat from your place of spotlight to take up your stool at the bar once more. Venti perched up beside you. 

“Another round, barkeep!” He announces.

Diluc looks flatly at you, before his eyes shift to Venti and drawl, “with what money?” 

“I’ll pay for it, Diluc.” You pipe up and he sighs and shakes his head like he always does. 

(He never charges you for them, anyways. You’ll still try to leave money for the both of you at the end of the night.) 

Instead, he says, “that was quite the song.” As he sets a glass of valberry wine in front of you; it is one of your favorites. 

For Venti, an ale.

“A love song!” Venti adds, waggling his brows as he loops his hand around the mug of ale. He takes a large sip, throat working, gulping it down far quicker than he should be. 

“I was in the mood,” you say breezily, lifting one of your shoulders in an easy shrug.

Diluc cocks an eyebrow but otherwise does not press you. He returns to wiping down the bar. 

Unlike Venti, who slams his mug back down onto the bar (sloshing some of the ale and Diluc, the poor man, sighs as he runs his rag over the splash) and wipes his mouth with the back of his hand before saying, “you’re seeing someone!”

Now, technically, you are supposed to be sharing this little rumor in hopes of it spreading like wildfire.

But lying to Venti? To Diluc—

About Kaeya, no less. 

So instead, you say, “I wouldn’t say that, per se.” 

Venti pounces excitedly, “but there is someone! Who is it? Do we know them?” 

You swallow. Though you are an actor, you are hardly a liar and even now, it turns your stomach over itself to do it. You’ve never been good at lying; your heart has always been on your sleeve, emotions written so plainly across your face. Lying makes your skin itch, you can hardly ever do it, even rarer can you pull it off. 

“Well,” your voice goes high.

“We do, don’t we?” Venti asks, impish grin hooked onto his lips. .

He mistakes you for shyness or awkwardness over a crush, rather than nerves or guilt. You let him. 

Venti is a dear friend of yours and has been for several years now. It was a sort of instant connection with him; even stranger and more wonderful than that, once the world had given him to you, it had felt like he’d always been in your life, at your side. Your bard. Your drinking and dancing partner. Your confidant and mischievous accomplice. The games the two of you play are far beyond anyone else; you send each other all over Mondstadt with scavenger hunts and puzzles–for new sheet music he’s written for you to sing or exciting news you wish to tell him– tongue twisters and poems, cherished clues and inside jokes. Your letters are often in code or riddle. The two of you are always disappearing to secret places and hiding spots. 

He’s your dearest companion. 

Lying to him troubles you greatly. 

You’ll have to ask Kaeya if you can tell him, if you could explain to Diluc that–

Still, you swallow, “you do, yes.” 

“Let me guess!” Venti then says, tapping his chin in contemplation. And for a moment, you have half a mind to lead him down a riddle, instead of this guessing game. The wine is muddling your head, though. “Is it Franz?” Venti asks. 

You laugh, surprised, shaking your head quickly; Franz is a fellow actor. He’s great fun but—

“Franz is seeing Emil!” 

“It’s not Rosaria, is it?” Venti then asks, “I thought you said that was a one off sort of—“

“It’s not Rosaria!” You cut him off, cheeks suddenly blossoming into an embarrassed heat as you glance at Diluc. Venti had been the only one who knew about that. 

Until now, of course. 

You smile sheepishly.

“Rosaria?” Diluc questions, surprised as well.

“It was a one off sort of—“ You begin to repeat Venti, laughing nervously. 

“I just had to be sure!” Venti then cuts you off, before taking another long sip of ale. He makes a show of mulling over his thoughts. 

“Is it…” He trails off, before his eyes suddenly sharpen and pin you to your place. You swallow because you know him and you know that look. Sometimes, you think Venti knows too much. You don’t know if it’s intuition or–

“…Kaeya?” 

You freeze. 

“It is!” Venti crows.

“What?” 

You wince.

“It’s just—it’s nothing—really!” You squeak out. 

“I had heard you went home with Kaeya!” Venti continues, loud enough that, yes, this rumor will certainly spread now. 

And more importantly, you believe it’s loud enough to reach the ears of the man who has been following you all day; the undercover Fatui member sits not far off, keeping his eye on you. He pretends to drink alone. 

“You went home with Kaeya?” Diluc repeats and if he sounds as if he might scold you, you suppose you wouldn’t exactly blame him. 

You lean in towards them and instinctively, they do the same, the three of your heads ducking close to each other. 

“It wasn’t like that,” you whisper to them, “but if anyone else asks, it was like that.” 

Diluc’s brows furrow and a frown settles onto his lips. Venti throws his head back and laughs. 

“What are you two up to?” Diluc asks scornfully, eyeing you.

“Nothing!” You chirp but it isn’t very convincing. 

“I knew you had feelings for him,” Venti continues, perhaps a little too loudly again, and somehow, it’s as if his voice could carry. Like he’s thrown it playfully, caught it on the breeze from the open window. 

Venti has always been rather magical to you. In the same way it feels as if you’ve always known him, it feels as if he could have always been here, in Mondstadt, even before he appeared. There is something in Venti that sings to you, the way the wind does on a beautiful day, rushing through your hair and into your heart. You couldn’t name it, but you know it as well as you know the streets of your home, as well as you know your favorite sonnet or song.

You make a show of shushing him and he laughs heartily again before he throws you a wink. 

You grin mischievously yourself this time. 

“Has Kaeya ever taken a lover?” Venti asks now, perhaps wondering out loud. 

“Too many.” Diluc grouses. 

“He’s strange that way, isn’t he?” You muse, taking a slow sip of your wine. You consider your next words. “He somehow has the reputation of taking countless lovers, but I couldn’t name you a single one.” 

Venti’s eyes twinkle, as if he knows something you don’t. Like a child, you sometimes wish to beg him to tell you what he seems to know, what the world has given him, but you know that is no way to learn.

“Diluc?” You question. 

Diluc gives you another flat look, “I am not privy to Kaeya’s romantic life.” He puts away a glass a little more forcefully than necessary, the glass twinkling, “and I have no wish to be.” 

“You can’t name a single paramour of your brother’s?” Venti presses and the two of you lean against the bar in intrigue now, excited, shining eyes turned to Diluc. 

“No, thank the Anemo Archon, I can’t.” 

Venti snorts at a joke you can’t seem to grasp. 

But then you and he share a look, and this time, you can read very plainly what is in his face. You wear twin smiles, impish, and all trouble. 

Diluc shakes his head, “don’t look like that in my bar. If you’re going to cause trouble, do so elsewhere.” 

“You’re such a grouch,” you snip back at Diluc, taking another sip of your wine, the sweet burn settling deep in your belly. Warmth blossoms. “You’re not curious at all?” 

“No,” Diluc says again quickly. 

You narrow your eyes, “liar. I know some part of you cares, no matter how badly you pretend not to.” 

Diluc huffs, “if I cared, I’d know.” 

Venti hums, “then you do know.” 

“I just said–” 

“I think it has more to do with Kaeya, don’t you?” Venti then says lightly, perhaps too lightly, “if Kaeya wanted you to know, you’d know. Kaeya keeps his cards close to his chest.” 

Another sip of wine has you feeling flushed. Open. 

“Well, I’m just going to ask him the next time I see him.” You declare to the two, to the bar, perhaps to the whole world. 

As if maybe it was you who asked for the truth, he’d answer. 

“Good luck with that.” Diluc says dryly. 

“Good luck to you!” Venti cheers, jerking his mug of ale out to you so that you may clink your glass of wine against his. You do so, just as he laughs;

“Good luck on your endeavor to capture our Captain’s heart! If anyone could, it would be you!” 

***

SCENE III

The Mondstadt streets, early morning; bustling and lively. A flourish of colors as people pass to and fro. Our lovers meander, as if in another time entirely. Kaeya is often shrouded, by people, by vendors, by the world. 

You walk beside Kaeya, shoulder to shoulder, past vendors of food and flowers and jewelry. Children yell and chase each other past you, mother’s hollering after them. The smell of fresh food and perfume floats on the breeze. 

Kaeya swaggers beside you, sword at his hip, in his full knight’s uniform. You, on the other hand, are in simple skirts; white ruffled fabric beneath an outer layer of peach. A corset of flowers, woven, but hardy and loved, with silk ribbons in the back all tied up and tangled in your hair. Despite the dress, you’ve decided today to bind your chest. Some days, you bind, some you don’t. Some days you are more masculine and others feminine.

And often, you live in between, perhaps around the two. Both and neither all at once. 

Heads turn as you pass but this is what Kaeya wanted. 

He ducks his head now to say, “your shadow is certainly persistent.” 

His voice is low and soft, kept hidden from prying ears. 

You look up at him, “they always are. I swear, one day, they’ll follow me into the bathroom–”

Kaeya snorts, casting his eyes back outwards at the moving streets. 

Now, he says, more obviously, “what have you got left on your list?” 

You look down into the basket on your arm; the loaf of bread that is still warm, the couple of fruits and vegetables that fill in with color around it like large jewels. 

“Milk and eggs,” you respond, “but I like to look at the flowers, too.” 

“As you wish,” Kaeya smiles and you feel his hand at the small of your back, leading you through the crush of people, towards where you will find your milk and eggs. 

“Kaeya,” you say, soft as the breeze. 

“Hm?” 

“I have questions.” 

He quirks a brow at you now, intrigued, perhaps even wary. It’s hardly a flicker of his expression. But still, he asks, “of what kind?” 

“Mostly the secretive kind.” You answer; you’d like to ask who you can share this false relationship with. You want to know if he’s informed Jean. 

You step up to the vendor for milk and eggs with Kaeya at your back. 

“You should save those for later, when you’re in my home.” 

“Oh?” You ask, head turning over your shoulder to look at him,“I’m coming over later?” 

Your eyes meet and if you didn’t know better, you’d think the tension is real, the little fissure of heat that kindles inside you makes you flush with warmth in the face. Along the tips of your ears. 

Kaeya really is handsome. A true knight in shining armor or–he looks like a prince from a fairytale, you think. The regal line of his nose and pretty dip of his cupid’s bow lip, the depth of his blue eye; you swear it could be a shade of blue you have never seen before. One that you could give a new name to. 

“If you’d like,” he says breezily, his smile sharp and handsome, “I’ll provide dinner.” 

“And wine?” You ask, a smile of your own tipping up into a mischievous curve.

“Always wine.” He agrees and this time, you think his smile is more sincere. 

You purchase your eggs and milk with twinkling coins that you press into the warm, wrinkled hand of the old farmer who sells them. And then you are on your way again, meandering the streets at Kaeya’s side. 

“I do have a question that can be asked now, though.” You return, cradling the basket on your arm filled with your goods, letting it rest against your hip. 

“By all means,” he replies, as if he’ll be that easy to give you an answer. He gazes back outwards, at the world around him. 

And before you can lose an ounce of courage, you look up at him and simply ask, “have you taken many lovers?” 

He laughs, surprised, and his head turns sharply to look at you again. “Is this a trick question?”

You laugh now yourself, “not at all! I’m being earnest.” You implore him with your eyes now, expectant, and honest.

 He laughs again, softer, shorter, as if he can’t believe you. He returns his gaze to the street in front of him. “I’ve had a few.” He answers simply.

“A few?” You prod.

“My, you’re nosy.” He teases. 

“I’m curious. I want to know!” You defend, nudging him a little, “I want to know more than just the elusive rumors about the casanova of the Knights of Favonoius.” 

“Is that what I am?” He purrs, “a casanova?” 

“Don’t change the subject!” You respond with another laugh and it’s almost a little dizzying, watching him work in real time to slip from your grasp. You feel heat in your cheeks, up along the nape of your neck. 

But you adjust your grip, you try again. 

“I’ve had quite a few.” He amends sheepishly, boyishly. “I hope you’re not the jealous type.” 

“I am.” You snip back playfully, honestly, but still, “were any of them serious?” 

You can tell he is weighing how to answer as he lapses into a brief silence and then, as if he’d manufactured it, he urges you suddenly to a vendor for flowers, with her large bushels of them, beautiful and bright and fragrant. He ducks behind a burst of them, appearing around the other side with one in hand, which he offers to you. 

His grin is lopsided, handsome. “For you, my lady.” 

It’s blue and beautiful, full of fragrant petals and blooming a deep purple at the center. 

You snatch the flower from his grasp, “you’re avoiding my question.” 

Still, you bring the flower up to your nose and inhale deeply. 

Kaeya meanders around the other bunches of them and you follow after him, keeping the one in your hand close to your face, by your nose. It’s sweet smelling, soft and mellow, and fresh. 

“What do you define as serious?” He returns your question with one of his own finally. 

“Have you been in love?” You ask now.

“Sure,” he answers with a secretive slip of a smile. 

You don’t know why, but you almost think he’s bluffing. 

“So it was serious?” You encourage, trying to ease more out of him. 

He shrugs gracefully now and gives you another, “sure.” 

“Did you think you would stay with them forever?” You pivot now, knowing you have to be specific. The question bubbles from you without thought, as if you are asking if the weather is alright, or if he’d prefer the red or gold flowers this morning. 

He stops up short. 

He looks at you very strangely for a moment. 

And perhaps it is one of the first straightforward and honest things he’s said to you, “nothing lasts forever.” 

“No, but you could promise your own forever to someone.” You respond, letting the petals of his flower brush up against your cheek, soft and silky. 

“Well, what about you?” He returns smoothly, carefully avoiding what you’d just said. 

You smile, because you know now, you can tell he is an expert of avoidance. You smile like you’ve caught him. 

And as if to teach him, you answer very honestly, “I have been in love many times, but I only promised forever once to someone.” 

Now it’s your turn to meander around the flowers, turn over your shoulder and wander away from him a little. 

He follows tentatively. 

“And what happened?” Kaeya asks carefully. 

You pull another flower out of the bunch to admire it next to the one he gave you, a wispy white one, twinged peach at the edges. 

“I got stood up,” you admit and pick your head up from your flower searching to look at him briefly, “we were going to elope.” 

The look in his eye is perhaps a little too delicate for your liking. 

You return to fiddling with the flowers, pulling another, and another, to create your own, small bouquet of them. It’s easier when your hands are busy to speak about this still, which even years later, feels raw and prickly. 

“It was while I was touring in Liyue–we were supposed to meet at some old ruins–an altar– and be married at dawn. I was going to leave the acting troupe, leave Mondstadt behind forever, and disappear with him.” You say, carefully arranging your flowers, delicately shifting and changing them. You offer a smile that doesn’t quite reach your eyes, and try to joke, “it was all very romantic at the time.” 

You let out a breath, admiring your bouquet, “I waited all morning. And then all afternoon. All night. I thought something horrible happened to him but–”

You pick your head up again and this time Kaeya offers you another flower; one to match your bouquet. You accept it and it fits beautifully into the bunch of them, carefully placed at the center. It’s another blue one, soft and lovely and full to bursting. 

“It turns out he just got cold feet. He married a Liyue girl a year later.” 

“And what did you do?” He asks softly. 

“I went on to perform in Sumeru, Fontaine, Natlan, and Snezhnaya. And then I came home to Mondstadt, licking my wounds, and haunting poor Diluc and Venti at the bar. Singing too many heartbreak songs, drinking a little too much–you know, the whole spiel.” You say and this time, you do smile, because despite how hurt you were, memories of Venti trying to cheer you up, causing a ruckus, and poor Diluc trying his best to help you as well flood to you. 

Jean taking you out on girls’ nights and your fellow artists banding together to keep you afloat. Lisa finding beautiful copies of your favorite plays and stories. Good people who came back into your life and tried to put you together again. Good moments, despite it all. 

“Well, if it’s any consolation,” Kaeya begins smoothly, reaching out to smooth a petal a certain way, “I think that is perhaps the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard of any man doing.” 

You snort and Kaeya continues, “I’m serious.” But you can’t tell if he means it or not, “Imagine losing the very Heart of Mondstadt.” 

He suddenly takes the bouquet from your willing hands and goes to pay for them with shimmering coins. He returns the flowers moments later, settles them into the crook of your arm, but not before stealing one and tucking it carefully behind your ear. 

“There,” he murmurs, eye flickering over your open face, unreadable as always, “perfect.” 

And with that, he saunters away and you are left staring after him, on his coat tails for a moment. 

But he pauses, he waits for your skip of a step to come back into place at his side. 

The flowers fill the space of your kitchen with the color of blue you can’t name, the one that is caught in his eye, and the one you dream about in Mondstadt skies. 

***

PRELUDE TO SCENE IV

Late afternoon. Outside the monumental Cathedral. Once inside, light pours from stained glass windows in a kaleidoscope of color. The way it touches you is almost a mystery, a vision. The audience should never fully see Kaeya’s face as he turns and moves, always partially shadowed. 

“I need to check on something before we see Jean.” You tell Kaeya and he hustles to keep up with your steps. 

“In the Cathedral?” Kaeya asks, brows rising over his face in surprise. 

“Sort of!” You chirp and then you glance over your shoulder, throw him a smile he knows means trouble, and say, “it’s a secret.” 

Kaeya masks his face well as he follows you around a sudden stone bend that veers away from the main room. He assumes it will go up, to the spires, but instead, it goes down. He stares at curled stone steps that lead into darkness. He glances around for a moment as if someone might stop the two of you, but no one does. 

You disappear into the shadows and Kaeya follows behind quickly. 

Now at a door, you turn, press your back to it and Kaeya comes up short. It’s a tight space, this narrow crook, and if Kaeya were to step away, he’d have to take another step up above you. 

“Will you guard the door?” You ask sweetly. 

Kaeya can’t help but laugh, a little surprised, “are you supposed to be doing this?” 

“I have a key.” You protest, fishing out a necklace from beneath your buttoned up shirt–today you are in trousers, with your chest bound, but a pair of heeled boots. You hold it up and a gold key shimmers in dull light. It looks old and perhaps once illustrious, with a whirling, intricate design. 

“Who gave that to you?” Kaeya asks. 

You look perfectly innocent, “I found it myself.” 

Kaeya can’t help the smile, “does anyone know you have it?”

You narrow your eyes, “you’re not going to tattle on me, are you?” 

His smile turns into a fond laugh, warm and softly echoing in this little hallway, the arch of the door. “No. Should I be worried?” 

“No,” you respond and he’s fit to believe you as you turn back to the door and fit the key into the lock. With a gentle, easy click, the door creaks open. “I’m just going to fetch my diary.” 

“Your diary?” 

Without an answer, Kaeya watches as you disappear behind the door, which leads to another, darker hallway. You lift your hand and light fills the space, a flame of yours licking to life. There is another door at the end of the hallway. He assumes you’ll go on, push through that one as well. 

But instead, you turn to the side to face a bookshelf lining one of the hallways. There’s plenty of them. You push on what appears to be a small statue fastened to the shelf and use it as leverage to begin sliding it over.

Your eyes flick to Kaeya only briefly and you lift your finger to your lips as if to ask him to keep your secret. 

The door shuts before he can stop it, sealing him away. 

Instantly, he frets. 

He pushes against the door but it’s locked now. And you have the key. 

He tries to remain calm. He feels suddenly foolish or tricked. He just thought–

Well, he assumed you were a goody-two-shoes. Mondstadt’s proper, most beloved girl. He thought you didn’t have a rebellious or secretive bone in your body. He assumed, for all intents and purposes, that you were something of a prude in this way. A rule follower. 

Huh. 

Kaeya glances back from the way he’d came, to the door. 

Perhaps he doesn’t know you as well as he thought. 

He tries not to worry the longer the minutes grow. 

He doesn’t want to call for you because he doesn’t want to attract attention but if you don’t return shortly–

The door suddenly creeks again and Kaeya has to step out of the way as you reappear behind it. 

And in your hand is a small, leather-bound notebook. 

You shut the door behind you, sealing your secrets away. 

“Diary found.” You tell him with a smile, holding it up. Then, you tuck into the crochet bag on your shoulder.

He stares at you, still rather surprised. 

“What?” You ask, brushing past him, to head back up towards the curved stairs. 

“What secrets do you have in that diary that warrant such a hiding place?” Kaeya asks, still astonished. 

You laugh, warm and bubbling, as you return to the main floor of the Cathedral. The colors of the stained glass in the afternoon sun shimmer on you, dancing over your skin in a wash of violets and peaches, blues and crimsons. Emerald colors your shoulders. Gold along your face. You look like a wonder. A fairy. Part god–

“Nothing so important–just my feelings. Songs I’ve written. Snippets of poetry.” You tell him and he wishes he could believe you. You say it so earnestly. “Secrets of the heart, I suppose.” You joke. 

Kaeya glances behind him, then back to you, “and where did you–find that place? How did you–?”

“I know many places in Mondstadt that others don’t. I’ve stumbled upon them ever since I was a child.” 

You catch his gaze over your shoulder, shimmering in his vision, and smile, “maybe I’ll show you more of them sometime.” 

The afternoon light almost blinds him as you swing the massive doors open once more. He dumbly follows after you, taken aback, enamored, in awe. 

“Come along, Captain!” You sing like a bird, “Jean is waiting!” 

***

SCENE IV 

Jean’s office. Golden hour. The light turns the wood of her desk and floor and the walls bronze. Papers are scattered around her desk, haphazardly organized. Her hair is a halo glow in the last rays of the sun. Kaeya’s back is turned, towards the bookshelves and away from the audience, like he might be searching for something. He is careful not to look at you. 

You sit across Jean’s desk as the afternoon wanes into evening, the sun dipping you in honey rays, soft and dreamlike. Kaeya busies himself with the rows of books, keeping his back carefully turned away from the two of you. He listens closely, though, even as he pretends he doesn’t. 

“So you’re not actually…seeing each other?” Jean asks. 

“No,” you laugh, “did I scare you with my letter?” 

“Yes.” Jean says seriously. 

Kaeya fights the urge to turn and offer her a cold look. Still, she continues, “I thought I was going to have to lecture one of you. Though, I’m not sure which one–”

You laugh now, fuller, warmer. 

It’s a lovely sound, it fills the space with warmth. 

“Who else knows? Kaeya, I don’t appreciate you withholding this from me at first.” Jean says and Kaeya can feel her eyes touching the back of his shoulders like the tip of a sword might. 

“You know I deal in secrets.” He responds flippantly. 

“This is different.” Jean responds and perhaps he does know that. 

You and Jean are childhood friends, he knows Jean cares a great deal for you. Or harbors some sort of over protective, sisterly feeling towards you. And even when you went away, even when you hardly saw each other, he knew the feelings didn’t wane. 

No, he knows how childhood bonds are. 

“It’s alright, Jean, we’ve had to be careful. We needed to establish a believable cover.” You are quick to mediate, perhaps defend him. “I started this, anyways.” 

Jean won’t get mad at you, nor will she blame you for much. 

“Currently, we’re the only three who know.” Kaeya pipes up, allowing his finger to trace over the spine of a book gracefully. 

“I’m trying to convince him to allow me to tell Diluc and Venti.” You quickly add and Kaeya knows now that he’s lost that battle. 

Jean will side with you.

“Diluc doesn’t know? Wouldn’t he be a useful ally now? She spends a lot of time at the tavern; he could keep an eye on her when you can’t.” Jean says. 

Kaeya takes a moment too long to respond, he knows it, senses his mistake, because Jean pounces–

“You two are a pain.” 

“Now, now,” Kaeya begins smoothly, “I just think the less people know, the better.” 

“You know you can trust Diluc.” Jean scolds. 

“Diluc is a terrible liar.” Kaeya snips and his head snaps to the side to glance at Jean over his shoulder. He quickly rights himself and shields his face once more, returning to his perusal of books. 

“I’m sure if he knows what’s at stake, he could keep it together.” Jean responds, tone firm and unmoving. 

Kaeya sighs heavily, but his next reply is cut off by your own voice, “I don’t like lying to him or Venti.” And then, because you’ve never been one to shy away from the truth, you add, “especially about you.” 

“I think both would readily help us. The more eyes on her, the safer she is.” Jean agrees. 

Kaeya can not explicitly express why this makes him bristle— or perhaps he simply doesn’t want to admit it. He knows it, somewhere inside of him, knows that the thing that claws and scratches looks a little too close to jealousy. It is perhaps just a little too green. Maybe, he wanted to keep you to himself just a little longer. 

But he knows, logically, Jean is right. And if it’s for your safety–

Kaeya finally turns to look at the two of  you. Which is foolish, because the sun is setting, and you are in its window. You are caught in its light, warm and relaxed, with your chin in your hand as you turn to look at him.

“As you wish, Acting Grand Master.” Kaeya says evenly and offers a (frankly) rude little bow. Jean will know he’s mocking her a little and that he doesn’t particularly like the decision made. And then he says to you, “shall we? I’d like to get you home before sundown.” 

You prick your head up, concern and surprise on your face, “am I staying with you for the night?” 

Kaeya is careful to let the tone of your voice roll off him and not take it or covet it. 

“No,” he muses, “I thought I’d stay with you for the night.” 

He pretends he doesn’t notice the way you brighten or the way you jump up from your seat to follow him. He doesn’t turn to look at you, but he hears your soft goodbye to Jean, and her murmuring something in return. Your sweet little laugh. And then your quick steps to catch up to him once more. 

When you exit the Knights of Favonius headquarters, taking the steps with a little skip, you suddenly sidle up to his side. 

Right underneath his arm, attaching yourself. 

He is careful to school his features, dropping his arms around your shoulders easily. Yes, he supposes it’s wise to look like a couple heading home together. 

“Sorry we ganged up on you,” you say and the way you peek up at him would be enough to send any foolish man’s heart into a tailspin. 

Kaeya is desperately lucky he’s never been a fool. 

“No,” he soothes, “Jean is right. And you shouldn’t have to lie to your friends.” 

He feels your fingers flex at the bend of his rib, in the fabric of his clothes like you’re tightening yourself to him. He walks in step with you, with your side pressed to his. 

Has he ever done this, he wonders, so openly with someone? Walked through the cobblestone streets with a lover under his arm? Or has he kept everyone in shadows and secrecy? 

It doesn’t matter. This is a secret, too. It isn’t real.

And still, the question flies from his mouth before he is prepared for it, “why didn’t you ask for Diluc’s help?” 

You stop walking and as he continues for a moment, you slip from his embrace. 

He turns to look at you. The sun is a crimson flare, catching on your ruby Vision, on the look in your eyes. 

You smile like a cat that’s caught a canary. 

“Kaeya,” you say his name like a melody, “are you the jealous type?” 

For a heartbeat, he almost feels harpooned, caught, suddenly struck in place. It’s frightening to be picked apart so effortlessly, with that smile on your face. Earnest. Horribly lovely. 

What a strange creature you are, he marvels. 

But then he laughs and lies, “not particularly.” 

You hum and begin to saunter towards him, walk on past him, and he is caught in your shadow. He follows. 

“It would’ve made sense to ask him.” Kaeya continues. 

“But I asked you,” you say simply, “you’re who I thought of.” 

Carefully, he reaches for your hand, the brushing of his pinky to yours. As if to ask, may I play pretend with you? As if to ask, may I take up the role of the one who gets your hand? 

You readily accept it and the part, too. And then you smile at him again, impish, filled with mirth;

“Besides–can you imagine how scandalized Diluc would’ve been if I’d given him the same letter I gave you?” 

Kaeya truly laughs now, deep from his belly, and you laugh with him as you pull at his hand, as you press up against his side. Your fit of giggles fills the sky. 

And the world must watch as you stroll through Mondstadt together and wander up to your home on the hill. He thinks the world must watch as he slips through your door, through your fingers, like a serpent in a garden. 

Like a sweet sinner, a non-believer, slipping into the back pew in the house of a love-spun god. 

***

SCENE V 

The trail from Springvale to the main city should feel familiar to us. Though lonelier now, shrouded in darkness that was easily chased off with two. Later, Kaeya’s apartment; a rapidly growing safe haven. 

After your rehearsal on the stage in Springvale, you meander back to the city. Kaeya said he would meet you halfway, but currently there is no sign of him. As the hush of night descends, a feeling of wariness overtakes you. You hear the owls begin to hoot and the distant, far off call of a wolf. The wind rustles the bushes. 

You turn to glance over your shoulders, again and again, half afraid that one of the times you may find someone staring back. 

You try to calm yourself. You swear you’re being paranoid; you have taken this road countless times. There is little to fear. 

And still, the feeling persists. It grows. 

You turn fully to look behind you, allow a burst of flame to erupt in your palm to illuminate your darkening world. 

“Is someone there?” You call out. 

With everything in you, you wish to hear Kaeya’s voice reply. Or Diluc’s. Maybe a fellow actor lollygagging behind? 

Your heart thuds hard in your chest, quickening. 

And even before you see the rush of a shadow, something instinctive, something ancient in you, tells you to run–

You take off as you plunge yourself into darkness, fleet-footed and desperate. 

You run hard and know certainly now that someone follows. You can hear it, feel it, the press of them behind you. The city lights of Mondstadt in the night sky are your beacon. 

If I can just get to the city, to the light, to my city of light–

You run harder, more wildly. Fear sharpens and quickens you. 

A flash of silver ahead of you. 

Your heart knows it before your mind;

“Kaeya!” 

You nearly collide with him but he’s got you, hands on your shoulders to steady you, eye flying over your face desperately. 

“What is it? Are you hurt?” He asks before looking past you. 

“There’s some–” you turn to look with him. 

But the forest behind you is quiet. The darkness is hushed. Almost unnaturally so. Goosebumps erupt over the nape of your neck. 

Your words die, dwindle in your mouth. 

You swore–

You try to catch your breath, try to quell your racing heart. “I thought there was something behind me.” 

Kaeya has gone inhumanly still, too, listening, watching. You think he senses something, too. He must know danger, know its call, no matter how silent. 

He’s got his hand on your lower back, corralling you closer to him protectively. He doesn’t stop eyeing a spot ahead, though, in the darkness. 

He hums. “Perhaps it was an animal.” But he seems to know differently. 

After a moment, when you have your breath under more of your control, you manage to get out, “must’ve been.” 

“Let’s go,” Kaeya turns you away, hand slipping around your waist for support. 

You lean into him. 

Belatedly, you realize you’re shivering. Hard. Trembling all over. 

He ushers you into his apartment above the city once more. The moment the door is shut and locked tight, he moves with more urgency to guide you to his couch. 

He disappears momentarily and you almost want to call him back, like a child, you want to reach for him. He returns with water and sets it on the coffee table. 

He kneels in front of you now, like the knight he is. 

“Are you okay?” He asks first and again, he searches you. “Are you hurt?” 

You shake your head, the movement jolted, unsteady. 

“I just feel–strange.” 

Kaeya’s eye softens fractionally, “probably an adrenaline crash. I’ll grab a blanket.” 

Again, he disappears and you want to stop him. You want to grab his wrist before he can slip from you, you want to sink into his arms. You want to be held. 

But you sit and you tremble. 

When Kaeya gently fixes the blanket to your shoulders from behind, you jolt, startled. 

“I’m sorry,” he says then, “it’s just me.” He comes around again to kneel in front of you. He pulls the blanket tighter around your shoulders, affixing it to you, bundling you in it. 

It smells like him. You try and take in a deep breath to still your trembling. 

After a moment, you say, “there was someone.” 

“I believe you,” Kaeya agrees softly, “someone was chasing you–I heard the second pair of footsteps and came running.” 

You inhale shakily. Tense silence fills the space. 

You can hardly speak, “do you think–do you think they were actually trying to–?”

Kaeya inadvertently answers your question, “I think we should be more careful from now on. I want eyes on you always from here on out.” 

“I thought it’d be fine–I always walk home from rehearsal and–”

“I know,” Kaeya soothes, “I thought I’d get to you sooner. I should’ve been. I’m–” 

“They’d just followed me around before.” You say uselessly, almost in disbelief, “why would they–?” 

“We’ll find out,” Kaeya says gently, “but for now, you should rest. How do you feel?” 

“Shaky,” you answer, “I’m not sure how I’m going to sleep tonight.” 

“I’ll be right out here,” Kaeya promises, “they won’t try anything now. It’s clear they’re waiting until you’re alone.” 

You want to beg him to allow you to stay on the couch with him, or for him to sleep in bed beside you. You feel needlessly clingy, like a scared child. How silly, he must think of you, to be so frightened of a little chase. You’re sure he’s seen so much worse, faced danger you can only conjure in storybooks. 

You bite your lip, catch between your teeth so it won’t wobble. You nod. 

Kaeya studies you for a long moment before you feel the careful press of his hand on your knee, the delicate swipe of his thumb in a soothing caress. 

“Would you like me to draw you a bath?” Kaeya asks softly. 

For a moment, you’re surprised by him or perhaps his attempts at soothing you. A bath does sound appealing though being alone doesn’t.

(Instantly, an image flashes hot in your mind, of you in the bath, and Kaeya leaning against the counter to chat idly with you. Or seated beside the basin, his sleeves rolled up, or–)

“No, I don’t need–” you’re quick to try and assure him. 

“It’s no trouble at all,” he stands with grace and ease and makes his way to his bathroom. In a moment, the water is running and steam is filling the small space. The scent of iris and eucalypts. 

You force yourself to stand on trembling legs, astonished with how thoroughly adrenaline has riddled your poor body. You’d think you’d be used to adrenaline in some way, the sharp plummet of your heart because of stage fright. 

But performing dangerous tales is significantly different from being a part of one. 

“Thank you,” you say gently, catching Kaeya’s hand to squeeze momentarily.

“It’s nothing,” he brushes you off and slips from you, allowing you to disappear behind the door to the bathroom. 

All alone you can hear the drum of your heart again. 

Your reflection looks strange to your own eyes in the mirror. Everything feels different; unreal, almost. You look away quickly, towards the running water, the filling bathtub. 

You try not to think, to strip yourself bare, and to leave the jitteriness on the floor with your clothes. 

You slip into the warm water. 

Kaeya left you clothes of his, a towel. 

You want to call for him. You want your heart to quiet. You want your fear to dissipate like the steam. 

You force yourself to take deep breaths. You force yourself to wash and scrub at your face and neck. You are okay. Kaeya is outside the bathroom and you are safe. 

Still, your feeling of unease doesn’t leave you. 

Even after you have donned Kaeya’s clothes and stepped from the warm bathroom. 

You linger in the archway of his bedroom. 

He looks like he’s about to speak but you beat him to it, “will you stay with me? In your room?” In your bed? 

You watch Kaeya’s brows raise in surprise before he quickly schools his features. “I don’t want to intrude.” 

“I’m asking you,” you respond and perhaps there is a note of vulnerability, perhaps there is a wobbling, small part of you that sounds a little too desperate to his ears. 

You find some form of embarrassment in the press of heat in your face. But you don’t retract it, let your honesty hang between the two of you like a pendulum. 

“I’ll sit on the armchair in there until you fall asleep,” Kaeya compromises, “how does that sound?” 

Relief is sweet and cool and winding around you. You let go of a breath you hadn’t realized you’d been holding tightly to. 

“I’d appreciate that.” You say and you turn to try and make yourself comfortable in his bed once more.

There has been several nights now where you have slept in his bed alone while he sleeps on the couch. Each night, you offer to take the sofa, and each night, he denies you. 

Tonight, he drapes himself over the lovechair in the corner of his room.

He settles deep, eye flickering over you as you turn the covers over and crawl into bed.

In the silence, you can hear your heart again, “I’m sorry for making you do this.”

“There’s no reason to apologize,” Kaeya says smoothly, waving away your concern, “I’m glad I could help.”

You wonder if he means that or if he’s saying it because it is the right thing to say. You don’t dare ask him. You don’t dare press; some truths you would rather not be revealed to. 

“You look like you’re about to tell an incredible bed time story in that arm chair.” You joke instead.

Kaeya snorts, head rolling a little onto his chest. He looks tired, too, disheveled a little in a way that he rarely is. 

But he’s still so buttoned up; you wish he’d show you the defenseless side of him. The one not in perfect ruffled blouses or knights’ coats. The one without the eye patch or the carefully charming smile. 

“Would you like me to tell you a story until you fall asleep?” He asks dryly.

But when you laugh a little and say, “yes, actually,” you mean it.

Kaeya’s brow quirks upwards. 

“I don’t have many bedtime stories.” He tells you. 

“That’s okay,” you reply, “I’m going to fall asleep soon, I’m sure.” 

Kaeya hums lightly, letting his head fall back against the back of the chair. He hangs there for a minute, revealing the lovely brown shade of his exposed throat.

Finally, he says, “I’ve got one.”

“Please share,” you encourage.

Kaeya draws in a slow breath, allowing the silence of the room to be sucked in, too. He holds it so the only thing you can do is wait, watching him in the near-dark.

Finally, he speaks and his voice is nothing like you’ve heard it before;

“Once, there was a prince from a far away, forgotten land…” 

The soft cadence of his story, hushed, and almost tentative, lulls you. It eases your heart and your mind. It reminds you of the wash of the waves against the shore or the wind as gentle as can be. 

In no time at all, you are drifting off into strange, plum-darkened dreams of lost princes and beasts in the night. 

And unknown to you, Kaeya gently pulls the covers of his own bed up over your shoulders. Gingerly, he tucks you into bed and watches your sleeping face for a moment. 

With a breath loosened, he finally leaves your side and finds his place on the couch. 

And in the morning, for once, you are awake before him and find him on the couch. 

Carefully, you tuck the blanket he’d thrown over himself up around his shoulders. You brush a strand of his long hair from his face. You let loose a quiet breath. 

He sighs in his sleep and turns towards your touch, chases it in his dreams. 

And though you linger, you don’t bother him again, but turn to begin making coffee for the two of you. 

You hum softly, an ancient little melody from a faraway land, and it stays in your head the entire day, with thoughts of a lost prince who, in your mind, surely looks like Kaeya; handsome and refined and beautiful. He must be noble and kind and charming like him, too. 

And more than anything, his eyes must be stars like his, too, and his hands must be calloused and gentle. 

And his voice must be like his, too, when he murmurs sleepily, rubbing at his eye, “where did you learn that song?” 

“I don’t remember,” you reply and you set a steaming mug of coffee on the table beside him, “I think from a traveler, a long time ago.” 

“I haven’t heard it since I was child.” He admits. 

“You know it?” You ask.

“Thank you,” he says softly, voice still rough with sleep, “for the coffee.” 

“Thank you,” you respond, “for staying beside me last night.” 

“It was nothing,” he assures gently. And then he finally answers you, perhaps in a way that you know is personal to him, “it’s a lullaby.” 

You smile behind the lip of your own mug, gentle and sweet, and say;

“Then the coffee is nothing, too.” 

***

Act I, Part II –>

[luveline]

Maybe KBD Steve being smitten even when he takes the family out to dinner and it’s hectic in the best way possible!

KBD —Steve gets overwhelmed with love at dinner. mom!reader

“I wanna sit with mom.” 

Steve ignores Dove’s whine until she says it again. “I wanna sit with mom!” 

He finds it all too easy to shuffle her back toward his chest, eyes over her shoulder. He’s a little more interested in his fries right now, but he isn’t heartless. “Babe, you’re not sitting with mom. Do you want me to cut up your chicken?” 

“Please?” she asks. 

You’re sitting across the table with Beth. It’s easier when you’re eating out for you to sit with Beth, because, while he tries just as hard, you’re better at getting her to eat her fill. And! Despite what Dove wants, she will not be sitting with you because she wishes she was sitting on you, and your belly is not to be sat on right now. Baby Wren is four months old, and sometimes, somehow, you’re still tender. The human body mystifies. 

“No.” He smiles at her. “But you can sit on my lap forever.” 

She frowns. Looks like she might show off, but ultimately enjoys being smiled at too much. “Will you cut it?” 

Steve grabs her knife and fork and starts to shear the meat off of her half-chicken. Beside him, Avery digs into a serving of mac and cheese with vigour, her spoon scratching the bottom of the bowl. The restaurant is quiet considering the time and day; it’s prime time 6PM on a Saturday, and you’d both expected this family establishment to be full to bursting, but besides two tables by the door and a couple of older women at the bar, it’s quiet. It’s quite nice. 

The girls are less so. 

“Oh, gosh, cheese,” Avery says. 

“It’s too wet,” Beth says. 

“Do the ‘sparagus too, daddy,” Dove says. 

Wren, thankfully, snores in her stroller, the slightest tinge against her collar of waylaid milk. 

“Yum! Beth, do you want some?” 

“I don’t want any.” 

“Bethie, you know, this is just how daddy usually makes them,” you say, stealing one of her French fries, licking salt grains from your fingers. “Except daddy wouldn’t let you have all that salt.” 

“It’s nice,” Beth defends. 

“Exactly. Better eat it before your daddy notices,” you say, all soft and smiley as you lean down and poke her in the side. 

She shies away, but not without a smile of her own. “Mom!” she whispers. 

“What?” Steve asks. 

“Nothing, nothing,” you say. You reach around Beth as Steve had done to Dove and begin to cut the last of her burger into sections. Steve would argue a burger from here is better than anything he could make, but he likes the compliment. 

His own burger grows cold in front of him. Your meal does the same. 

He licks his thumb. “Baby,” he says, tapping your ankle with his shoe, “you need to eat.” 

“I’m trying.” 

“Beth’s a big girl, huh?” he says, giving Beth an encouraging wink. “She doesn’t need you hovering, she wants you to eat your food.” 

“Thanks, mommy,” Beth says. 

“I don’t care what daddy says,” you say, tapping your nose, “I can help you if you need it. Big girl or not.” 

He rolls his eyes playfully and goes back to his own food. Dove eats strands of chicken with her fingers, seemingly pleased, and he pretends she isn’t taking fries off his plate as he relishes in huge bites of big cheeseburger. It’s amazing. Melted cheese, a super fresh slice of tomato, lettuce crisp and not soggy. Steve loves when somebody else makes dinner. 

You finish your food fast, and then you're straight back to Beth. Steve realises quickly that it’s not even that she’s struggling today, you’re just being affectionate. He should’ve realised that before. 

(Maybe too doting considering Beth has been able to feed herself for more than four years, but Steve can’t blame you.)

“I’m glad they didn’t give you a tomato,” you’re saying, fingertips drawing circles into her arms, clearly distracting her from the task at hand. “Remember last time? They gave you tomatoes and mustard even though we told them you don’t like them.” 

“I do like tomatoes,” she says. 

“No, I know, just not on burgers.” You wrap your arm around her and turn your gaze on Avery. “What’s your mac and cheese like, Ave?” 

“So good! You want some?” 

“No, thanks. It looks cheesy.” 

Avery stabs her spoon into her food and pulls it up slowly to showcase the cheese pull. She’s gone a little pink in the face, which isn’t like her, but it’s hot in the restaurant and her food is still steaming. Like you’ve had the same thought, you lift a laminated menu and begin batting fresh air at her. “Babe, you’re red! Are you okay?” 

Jesus, he loves you. Steve really loves you. You’re just adorable, and a great mom, and he loves you. He’s gonna do it. It’s gonna piss you off, but he has to. 

“Okay, alright,” he says, shuffling out of his seat, lifting Dove to place her next to Avery. “This has been a long time coming. I think nobody expected me to wait this long, but.” He neatens his eyebrows with two fingertips and slicks back his hair. “Honey, I love you.” 

“Steve…” you warn. 

“I love you, and I want to be with you, ‘cos you’re beautiful and sweet and weirdly good with kids?” He raises his eyebrows at you. ���I don’t know. You’re amazing.” 

He slips his hand behind his back, shrugs off his wedding ring, and gets down on one knee. 

Avery claps and laughs immediately. Dove tips her head to the side trying to make him out. 

“Baby, I can’t imagine my life without you, and I can’t go one more day without being your husband. Would you please, please, do me the honour of becoming my wife?” 

You laugh loud and sudden, then clear your throat. “What do you think, girls?” you ask, leaning back for conference. 

“Say yes!” Avery says. 

“But he really annoyed me earlier tickling my leg,” you say. 

“True.” Avery looks to Beth. “He can learn to be better, right?” 

“I thought you were married already?” Beth asks. 

Avery giggles. You squash a smile against Beth’s hairline as you give her a little kiss. “We are,” you whisper, “he’s just pretending.” 

“This is not pretend!” Steve’s knee hurts, but he perseveres for love. “Please, honey. I love you more than anyone.”

Dove gasps in hurt. 

“Except for my Dove, my Beth, my Avery, and my Wren,” he adds. “Jesus, we have a lot of kids. That was a mouthache.” 

You meet his eyes and smile like you don’t want to smile. You hold out your hand, unperturbed when he gasps in over exaggerated delight and slips the ring on your already ringed finger. 

“Congratulations!” Avery shouts. 

She’s hilarious. “She gets that from me,” he says. 

You usher him off of the floor for a kiss, not dissimilar from the one you gave when he’d actually proposed —your hands on his cheeks, holding him to you as though he might run away before you’re done. Your smile  a palpable thing as he leans in.