#that's how you get a sleepy melting Harbinger

[rockingbytheseaside]

✦ How they hold you in bed when sleeping

Pierro, Capitano, Dottore, Scaramouche, Pantalone, Tartaglia (separate) 

When the stars are perched in the night sky, and the world becomes wrapped in a still blanket of darkness - there is no better action than departing to your safe space, the coziness of your bedroom, and the safety of your beloved’s body next to you. The lights are dimmed and after a warm shower and a change into comfy pajamas, your beloved is met with a tender sight of your sleepy figure. It is time for rest, and with his arms open, beckoning you to hop into his embrace - you join him in bed at last. 

✧ A single glance from Pierro and his eyes would instantly soften upon seeing your sleepy expression. The Director of the Fatui doesn’t require any questions or even verbal communication to know that something is troubling you. Your solemn gaze and slumped shoulders tell him more than enough - and his heart aches in response. Silently but gently, he pulls you closer, his star-shaped pupils seeking answers from your own. 

“My divine one... A long day?” - he whispers, his hand lifting your chin to make you look at him. You don’t directly respond, but nod and press your lips into a thin line. Pierro sighs, yearning to vanquish all your worries and pain. But sometimes, words are superfluous.

“Do not fret your little heart. No harm shall come, for I am here, my divine. Shall I take you to bed, instead?” 

With a small nod and a timid glance from you, Pierro spoke no further. He knew what you required on such solemn nights as these, and instead, allowed his arms to pick you up, carrying your fatigued figure in his bigger embrace. He pulled you closer, his cheek gently grazing your face as he whispered soothing words and brought you to bed. 

He tucked you in, the king-sized bed bringing the familiar sensation of silky sheets and warm covers. He kisses your forehead with careful and slow deliberation before accompanying you to sleep.    

When Pierro sleeps beside you, he is often silent, but his gaze never leaves your figure. He’d lay on his side, gazing at your face as if it were the stars and the moon itself. Even within the dimness of the room, he has memorized the outline of your face, the soothing rhythm of your breathing, the contour of your figure. With one hand around you, you two slept peacefully, the troubles of the world left behind. Even the Fatui’s Director required solace, and this solace he would locate only in your tender arms; his sanctuary. 

✧ Il Capitano has memorized your routine. Take a shower, get ready for bed, and most importantly, sleep on top of him as if his body were a sturdy mattress. It’s not your fault your cherished is so much taller and bigger, right? Well luckily for you, he absolutely adores it when you climb on top of him, resting your head on top of his chest and legs around his hips. Your smaller figure clad tight around him like a loving weighted blanket while he slept on his back. His hands would gladly squeeze you, loving your softness against his toned physique. 

“You don’t mind my weight on top of you, Cappy?” - you’d often ask every night before bed, peeking at him with that tender worry that made the Harbinger melt in an instant. Capitano would continue to hold you, his sharp fingers tracing circles gently on your hips or your back.

“Dearest, I have carried heavier weights that quadruple you in size. If you were to bother me, would I be pulling you back to my arms whenever you toss and turn?” 

And thus, with the seal of approval from the honorable Captain, you’d smile triumphantly and sleep on him. That’s just how the two of you were: Capitano was a beast in size, slept still, and barely moved when on his back. Conversely, you were smaller in size, slept very lightly, and often turned or wrestled with the covers. Even when you had the spacious bed to your leisure, you always chose to sleep tightly clinging to him. And Capitano revered every second of it as if it was the biggest honor in his duty as your protector. Truly, an honorable knight protecting your dreams. 

✧ Sharing a bed with Il Dottore is a toil. If you managed to miraculously drag him out of his lab, he’d groan and argue that he has important research to do, that your concern for his sleep schedule is ‘childish’. Yet the moment he settles in bed, he becomes a menace to your sanity: 

“Are you coming to bed or not?” 

“Come here, closer.” 

“No, you are pushing around.”

And the cherry on top of it all? He’d stare at you during the entire night, maskless. You know he doesn’t easily fall asleep, even on days when he overexhausted himself in his experiments. So naturally, his method to relax is to press the side of his head tightly against your chest and just remain glued to you with the sound of your heartbeat being his salvation. You’d assume it is an adorable sight… until you’d open your eyes in the middle of the night, only to notice a piercing, red lens just gawking at you. Motionless and still, he just wore that neutral expression while being pressed to your chest.

“...Uh, are you going to just stare at me in the dark?” - you whispered in the dark, to which he won’t even move or change his expression.

“43 beats per minute.” 

You blinked sleepily - “... wha-” 

“Your heart beats approximately 43 to 50 beats per minute when you sleep. That’s anywhere between 20640 to 24000 beats for 8 hours of sleep.” 

It was your turn to gawk at him, albeit in confusion. His nonchalant yet stoic reply told you that he was, indeed, very focused on counting each and every beat of your heart while you slept. He remained pressing his ear to the middle of your chest, arms wrapped around your waist tightly. 

“Dottore, have you not slept this entire time…?” 

“Shush, stop speaking,” - he whispered more gently, pressing his face into you in a rather touchy manner as if you wouldn’t notice. “I am still counting. Your heart rate is increasing to 81 bpm.” 

“If you won’t go to sleep this instance I won’t make any Ajilenakh Cake tomorrow.”

As such, silence dominated the dark bedroom once more. The doctor said no more and settled on hiding his face against your body, not daring to admit that he loved your desserts. And even more, not daring to acknowledge that your heartbeat lulled him to sleep. To deny his infatuation with every beat of your pulse would be a lie, and to deny his longing to physically hold you close would be ignorance. So he settled to silently counting your heartbeat until succumbing to dreamless slumber. 

✧ Scaramouche didn’t require sleep. Everyone knew that. Regardless, your persuasion with the 6th knew no bounds as you begged and nagged at him relentlessly to remain beside your bedding. He would audibly scoff and cross his arms at your ridiculous request. 

“My body does not need rest for 8-something hours. Why should I even waste such precious time with you while you’re the one unconscious?” 

However, no matter how much Scaramouche put up the cold front and rolled his eyes, he wasn’t immune to your ingratiating puppy eyes or gentle tugging whenever you asked something of him. You’d always embrace him from the side, asking him softly to stay a little longer as you depart for the night. He, of course, would refuse and cut your answers short, but his actions told a different story. He was already tucking you in; making sure the futon was neatly laid and the covers warmly wrapped around you while he sat kneeling beside you. He just had to make a fuss first:

“To even insinuate such foolish proposition… You must be truly bored out of your mind.”

You’d only chuckle in response, smiling whenever he made sure your room was tidy and secure for your nightly rest. But even then, you’d reach for his hand, and whisper: 

“... Just stay for a while longer. At least until I fall asleep, okay?” 

Same scoff. Same attitude. But The Puppeteer never left. He always stayed beside you, despite his arrogant rebuttals that you quickly learned were nothing about. He’d either sit leaning beside you, keeping a silent company, or telling you obscure stories he heard from Inazuma or the Abyss. And at times, Scaramouche would remain kneeling by your futon even after you had fallen asleep. 

Your breathing was slow and steady, but he was almost afraid to lean any closer. All bickerings he displayed before were gone, and like a porcelain puppet, Scaramouche would find himself frozen in place, hypnotized by your soothing breathing. He just gazed at you, as if you were a distant star within the dark sky, the palliative breaths emitting from you told him that you were safe. You are here. 

And it was from you he learned how gentle breaths are emitted by those deemed “alive”. How your breathing fluctuates in different moments of your life: energetic when happy, hitched when disturbed, and peaceful when asleep. Strangely, this mundane motion of your chest falling and rising worked like a lullaby to Scaramouche. 

Alas, he now condemns himself for not caressing your face all these times he watched you sleep. A lonesome Wanderer sat alone, an empty futon beside him. Your familiar presence lacking, and he won’t hear your tranquil breaths. You are not here.  

✧ Your dear Pantalone had a fundamental habit before bed. He’d set his glasses aside, hair tied up, and go through his skincare routine right before bed. His hands diligently yet delicately wash all the apprehension and professionalism from his face. But the most important part? Trash talk with you about what happened at his work, while he focused on his reflection in the mirror.

“Could you believe that dear?” - the 9th called out to you from the bathroom, his brows frowning in displeasure. The man continued to cleanse his face. “Those insolent aristocrats offered another bribe under the table, thinking that would change my final statement.” 

You responded with a faint “Mhm,” back at him. 

“And then! The tasteless bastard dared to ask that some of their reports be delayed because he will pay twice, as long as no one checks for quality control. I mean, the audacity of some of those high-society morons!” 

“Right, right” - you murmured faintly from the bedroom. 

Pantalone massaged his cheekbones, making sure his face was as affluent as his taste and status. He adjusted his robe, still rambling with the same frustrated passion. “They think that just because they’re doing business with me, negotiating with a high sum of bribes would lead to a guaranteed deal with the Fatui. Ugh.” 

This time, there was no response from you. The bedroom was awfully silent, despite the night lamp still shining. 

“Honey?” - Pantalone called gently. 

Silence. The Regrator stepped out of the bathroom, a curious look on his face, until his eyes spotted you in bed, asleep. His expression immediately softens, all quarrels and gossip forgotten. It seems that his late-night rambles about work have thrilled you so much that you, obviously, dozed off. You didn’t even turn off the lights or get under the covers yet.  

Pantalone couldn’t help but smile softly. You two had a long day, anyway. He quietly finished his preparations for bed, changed into comfortable nightwear, and stepped closer to your side. With a delicate touch, he made sure you were tucked in properly, giving you the usual good night kiss on the forehead and tucking your hair away from your face. The man dimmed the lights before he two took his rightful place in bed beside you. 

Whatever quarrels troubled his mind now - didn’t matter. What mattered was that he had your comforting presence beside him in bed. As he slowly spooned your sleeping figure, Pantalone let out a sigh of relief, letting his head rest by the crook of your nape. Only then, did the Regrator feel his body go into ease, feeling the tranquil silence settle upon the room. Thus, the two of you slept warmly; Something that Pantalone would never trade for any riches or gold. 

✧ Ah yes, Tartaglia, his sweetheart, and their 50,000 Mora five-foot tall Morax plushie. Childe remained lying on his back, his expression far from pleased. Ever since he returned from his mission in Liyue, he gifted you this massive dragon plushie. A plushie that became his mortal enemy. His tormentor. His replacer. 

The 11th frequently brought souvenirs back home in Snezhnaya. Liyuan tea sets, Inazuman dresses, or Fontainian gadgets. All for your spoiling, and the joyous smiles from his siblings. One of such missions, he returned home with several cute toys and plushies, just for you and Teucer. He is not beating the “Greatest Toy Seller” allegation anytime soon, but he was certain that the gigantic Morax would be a lovely choice for you. 

How naive he was. 

The plushie was almost your entire height, yet you held onto it with utter delight when he gave it to you. You hugged and squeezed it with love, finding the fluffy geo archon the cutest thing ever. And thus, here you were. In bed, not hugging your boyfriend, but hugging the massive Morax plushie. 

It became a common occurrence. At first, Childe chuckled at your adorable antics whenever you brought his gift with you in bed. But then it became more apparent that you would rather turn your back to him, and just fall asleep while embracing the plushie. Childe swallowed his pride. It’s just a plushie, he bargained with himself. But then he would stare daggers that that innocent, fluffy-looking Morax. How dare it be the one receiving your love, while you adorably squeezed or fell asleep on it.

It should’ve been him! 

Therefore, one night, he took matters into his own hands. Tartaglia sat up silently in bed, and by mustering all his skills in stealth, he sneakily pulled the Morax plushie away from your grasp while you slept soundly. He was slow, and careful so as not to wake you up; and boy, tugging that five-foot plush was no easy task. Once it was away from your arms, Childe grinned in triumph… and threw the toy aside. The enemy has been neutralized.  

Next step - carefully pulling you closer to him. You were already in deep sleep, so of course, you didn’t feel when your beloved naturally embraced you in bed. Shh, no one will know he was jealous of a silly toy. He was just a concerned boyfriend, who needed to bury his face onto the crown of your head and relish your warmth. 

The next morning, you woke up feeling warm and pressed to your dear Ajax, who was particularly cuddly that morning. 

“Oh no, how did my Morax plushie fall to the floor?” 

“Hm? Oh, you must’ve accidentally tossed it away while you slept, dear.” 

[totallynotcoffeeturtle]

Sleepy Affirmations

Genshin masterlist || Scaramouche masterlist || kinda part 2 to this

Tags: fluff, established relationship, kinda ooc(?) scara Summary: what scaramouche wants scaramouche gets (it's a confession)

A/N: wahahaha finally got this out of the drafts !!! but also this was supposed to be the part one rather than part 2... writer's block is rough

･˚‧･+‧₊‧.°.⋆.🫧 .•˚₊‧⋆:｡+.･ﾟ･˚‧･+‧₊‧.°.⋆.🫧 .•˚₊‧⋆:｡+.･ﾟ･˚‧･+‧₊‧.°.⋆.🫧 .•˚₊‧⋆:｡+.･ﾟ･˚‧･

Scaramouche, for all that he is, understands that he is not suitable to be loved nor is he for loving someone else. Yet, he loves you. And even more blessedly in his accursed life, you reciprocate his affections in your own silly mortal ways. Actions speak louder than words, you would insist, so you shower him in small, but thoughtful gifts, in kisses before he leaves for his duties and when he returns to your shared abode, and in the little notes you take in consideration of him.

The harbinger adores all the moments you share with him and, no one knows this, the trinkets you gave him with all of his heart. He keeps all of your gifts in a chest, hidden somewhere in your house but close enough for him to clean on the regular (he is not going to let anyone else see how sappy he is when facing the proof of your love, nuh uh). 

At the same time though, he can’t help but crave something verbal from you. Does it sound desperate? Yes. Is he? Also yes, just slightly harder to admit to. Scaramouche would not beg for a love confession of all things but he cannot deny that when he first hears you whisper a quiet ‘I love you’ while he was supposedly sleeping, it took way too much effort to keep himself from whipping his head over to look at you. The harbinger remains still, his ears perk up to try and take in any sound you make from your pillow castle. You shuffle on the sheets and reach over to him slowly, making him tense up. You run your finger down his hair slowly as you whisper his name with so much love overflowing he can feel himself melting into the mattress. Scaramouche is loved. And loved so deeply is he that he wishes time would cease to move. He wishes for an eternity in your arms alone.

Scaramouche, for the first time in a long while, drifts to a proper sleep, all thanks to you. He just hopes that this won’t be a one-off thing~

･˚‧･+‧₊‧.°.⋆.🫧 .•˚₊‧⋆:｡+.･ﾟ･˚‧･+‧₊‧.°.⋆.🫧 .•˚₊‧⋆:｡+.･ﾟ･˚‧･+‧₊‧.°.⋆.🫧 .•˚₊‧⋆:｡+.･ﾟ･˚‧･

[that-foul-legacy-lover]

i’m kinda sick rn so just some brainrot of FL when reader falls sick. The poor baby doesn’t know what to do, Childe himself rarely ever gets sick so he doesn’t know what to do to take care of reader. I’m just imagining him sitting beside reader’s bed whining softly as he watches them sleep. He sees how they seem really uncomfy but he can’t do anything to help his beloved because he’s so clueless on what to do.

i think later FL would just let Childe take control of their body so that he can take care of you

-sleepy anon

in honor of both of us not being at 100%, here is some cozy moth comfort!!

you shift when you hear soft, sad whimpers beside you, turning over and opening your eyes just a crack to see Foul Legacy staring at you, claws worrying the bedsheets. he lets out a concerned whine, leaning forward and nuzzling your cheek with his as you grasp one of his talons with your hand, giving him a weak but reassuring smile. Legacy trills sadly, closing his pretty blue eye and allowing the Abyssal magic to fall and melt back into Childe, who exhales deeply and laces your fingers with his. he fusses over you for the rest of the day, tucking your blankets in around your chin and bringing you hot soup- his mother's recipe! he swears that he didn't put any weird fish in it like he usually does, only sitting down on the bed and watching to make sure you eat every last bit. Childe insists that he doesn't GET sick, tucking your head into the crook of his neck and tenderly petting your hair. you idly begin poking his freckles and the Eleventh Harbinger just chuckles, a wonderful rumbling sound from his chest, and brushes the tip of his nose against yours

it's midnight the next time you wake up, the outside world hushed and silent apart from the chirping of cicadas- but your room isn't quiet, the opposite, actually, with how deeply Foul Legacy is purring. his arms are wrapped firmly around your waist, the consistent purrs soothing your aching head, and you attempt to snuggle closer despite how your eyes burn and your breath comes out weak and shaky. Legacy grumbles in his sleep and pulls you closer, his armor cool against your warm skin and claws gently grasping your shirt. for a moment it feels as if all the pain fades away, your head against Foul Legacy's chest as you lean up and peck his cheek before closing your eyes again, the soft, constant purring and perfect temperature lulling you to sleep once more <3

[eepyuii]

frostbite — pt. 8

pairing ; childe x gender neutral! reader

content ; childhood friends to “rivals” to lovers, slowburn-ish

cw ; none

notes ; listen guys. i can explain. rly tho, i’ve been horribly busy with school stuff and for a long time i wasn’t rly inspired to write but i got SOME free time now and managed to finish this bad boy up!

sadly, kind of a boring chapter imo, just a LOT of continuing childe’s story quest. i’ve mentioned a bunch of times before how i hate writing by the quest dialogue and how tedious it is and i believe that’s partially why i couldn’t continue writing for a bit. anyway, i promise i’ll try to get the next chapter out sooner as next chapter WILL have some things i’m looking forward to writing LOL

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the bright high noon sun shines against the blades of grass in the hills of qingxu pool, making the greenery seem like shards of vibrant emerald. the very same sun, unfortunately, nearly causes you to melt right then and there- with impossible steep peaks to cross and a whole child in your arms to carry. teucer had fallen asleep in your arms somewhere along the trip and he still snores soundly as you round up to the location childe had referred to earlier and where you immediately spot him, as well as some other men.

“found him! there’s childe!” paimon exclaims as she floats on ahead, effectively waking up teucer at the mention. he tries to move around and gather in his surroundings within your hold, sleepy eyes adjusting to the light once more.

as you get closer to the group, you find that the men childe is speaking to are… treasure hoarders. and it certainly didn’t look like the friendliest of exchanges, some kind debt collecting that lunatic does. you hear half of a taunt coming from childe when you approach earshot.

“…i suppose i should forgive you country bumpkins for your ignorance, for i am-“

“brother!” teucer yells excitedly and the harbinger freezes in his tracks the next second.

“you’re selling them toys, aren’t you, brother? that’s so cool, i’ve always wanted to watch you work!”

childe stammers. “w-why yes, of course! for i am, uh…

…the greatest toy salesman in snezhnaya!”

oh, for the tsaritsa’s sake. this time, you truly cannot fight the involuntary reaction within your muscles to facepalm at his half-assed save, if you can even call it that. though, what makes it worse is when he raises his fists triumphantly, clapping as if there was nothing wrong with what he said.

“so cool!”

“…huh?” says one of the treasure hoarders.

“you playin’ games, pretty boy?” goes another and you snort at the nickname.

“so, will you buy, or not? the toys that snezhnaya produced three months ago will run you.. yes, six hundred thousand mora- to be paid in full.”

another treasure hoarder chokes on his breath. “t-toys..? a-and how much mora…?”

“wow, is that what it’s gonna cost to fix that head of yours?”

the three hoarders bark out in mocking laughter. childe doesn’t seem to be dissuaded in the slightest, in fact his eyes drop into a lethally serious glare.

“i’ll say it again- toys from snezhnaya. three months prior. six hundred thousand mora. paid in full.”

“yeah… no, sorry, salesboy. the same joke isn’t funny twice. or were you always cruisin’ for a bruisin’?”

the harbinger sighs. “alright then, i’ll make things a little easier for you- i’ll join the treasure hoarders. perhaps you’ll be more willing to pay when we’re brothers-in-arms?”

you frown, slightly skeptical of childe’s methods of negotiation. however, you know better than anyone that childe, for all that he seems, is not an idiot. he’s just as aware of the means as he is of the ends and he wouldn’t be making statements like those with such certainty for nothing.

“hah- would you listen t’yourself?! you think we just let any old person into the treasure hoarders? i’m not so sure you could hack it…”

“heh, well then, why don’t you put me to the test, dear seniors? i like to think of myself as quite talented in the field of treasure hunting.”

“hmm.. looks like you’re not gonna pack it up until someone packs you in. alright then, show us what you got.”

the leading treasure hoarder proceeds with the proposition of a challenge where childe would have to collect some loot on a nearby hill within a time limit set by them. while you could see the hill from where you were, it was impossibly far to reach on foot in such a short amount of time. a tinge of worry creeps into the back of your neck and you shoot childe a concerned look, which he receives like he’s perfectly understood your silent doubts.

in return, he only cheekily winks to you and takes off.

he expertly uses the powerful gusts of wind shooting nearby to cut the path toward the hill in short and before you can even think of keeping track of his movements, he’s back with a small chest in hand- nonchalantly brushing dust off his uniform.

“well, i have the goods, here you go. so how’d i do? pretty well, i’d say.” childe smirks.

one of the other treasure hoarders starts sweating and whispers worryingly over to his fellow bandit. the leader turns back to childe, somewhat containing his shock.

“please… hold on a moment, sir. we need to discuss something amongst ourselves.”

the three turn to a small circle, where they mutter back and forth to each other, unintelligibly to you. periodically, one of the hoarders throws childe a quick, fearful look to ensure that he’s not becoming impatient- lest something freakier than his show of inhuman speed happens. finally, the leader turns back.

“so, mister.. salesman. my apologies but we can’t have you joining us.”

“oh? i didn’t pass? i must say i never imagined that the treasure hoarders would have such strict entry requirements…” childe replies unimpressed.

“no, i-it’s not that- ..what we mean is you’re too big a fish for our little pond. but we fully understand the situation with the uh… toys, sir. we’ll fetch that six hundred thousand mora for you right away.”

you scoff, shaking your head incredulously at how… somehow childe managed to get his way with such a ridiculous front to impress his brother. teucer, on the other hand, could not be happier with the outcome.

“that’s my brother for you! toy sellers are so cool!”

some rustling of grass from behind you grabs your attention and you instinctively tense your shoulders, hand ready and reaching out towards teucer if you had to protect him from an unexpected ambush by the sour treasure hoarders. fortunately, the arriving individual turns out to be a familiar fatui employee, felix. he recognizes your presence with a curt bow-like gesture before directing himself towards the harbinger.

“ah, master childe, you’re here. a new batch of fresh recruits have just-“

“hey now, keep your voice down. can’t you see i’m entertaining some clients over here?”

“clients? well uh… the motherland has dispatched a new batch of recruits to liyue. they’ve just arrived and i’m afraid we must ask you to speak to them.”

“ugh, do i have to? now is hardly the best time…”

you decide to interject with a suggestion. “couldn’t signora give them the initiation? she’s also an acting superior here in liyue.”

felix shakes his head. “i’m afraid the fair lady has already returned to the palace to attend to other affairs.”

dammit, you really couldn’t keep track of that woman. both you and childe seem to simultaneously deflate slightly at the news, as if you’d both imagined at the same time how hard it’d be to keep teucer satisfied and ignorant towards the truth with so many predicaments.

“i truly must apologize for troubling you, master childe, but they are already waiting for you south of lingju pass. every new batch of recruits must be baptized by the tsaritsa’s will through the words of her harbingers. this has always been our rule.”

childe groans and rolls his eyes petulantly.

“well, alright then, i’ll go. just give me a moment to catch up with my brother and i’ll be right with you.”

“do you have to keep working?” teucer finally speaks up, with his saddened tone from earlier returning.

“yes teucer, we have a group of new toy sellers fresh from the motherland and i need to go teach them the ropes.”

“that’s great! when i grow up, i wanna be a toy seller too. can i go listen?”

you stammer to answer quickly. “ah- maybe not now, teuce’. you’re still a little too young for that, bud.”

childe nods in agreement. “besides, most of it is rather boring. why don’t you go play with y/n and the traveler instead? sound good?”

teucer shoots out the most impossibly heart wrenching combo of big eyes and a pout towards his brother. “b-but.. but…”

“i really do have to go, teucer. a lot of people are waiting to see me. i’ll see you around, alright?”

the boy sighs melancholically and for a moment you do understand his side of the situation, but again you’re reminded of the harsh reality of the fatui and how hard it must be, no- how hard it has been to keep such a young, adventurous kid oblivious to all of it. it truly has not been easy for childe for his little brother to show up so absurdly unannounced.

the traveler and paimon are a few feet away, whispering to each other while teucer still sulks, and you catch a bit of their conversation.

“to think he’d go this far just to prevent his family from seeing his… dark side.”

“i wonder how much longer he can hide it from teucer…” the traveler responds.

“paimon wonders too. but hey, let’s at least help him

out while we’re out in liyue…

wait- where’s teucer?”

panic shoots up your spine chillingly and you turn around to where he just was, to find nothing. the few seconds you’d kept your eye off him he disappears. you scan the grasslands for teucer almost involuntarily, but no sign of him at all.

“ugh.. we were too busy chatting! where’d he go?”

you sigh frustratedly and stomp down the hill, eyes still vigilant. “dammit, i shouldn’t have taken my eyes off of him while he was still upset. not even for one second… of course he’s going after childe.”

—

“…from this day forward, you will honor the oaths you have made to her majesty the tsaritsa and you will stop at nothing to bring snezhnaya victory.”

you can still taste the very same oath you swore years ago on your tongue. you still remember how tense your shoulders stayed and shaky the fist held to your heart was, how harsh and vile the words of the fatui initiation sounded coming out of dottore’s mouth. and now, they sound just as sharp coming from childe- you find that it gives you an unpleasant feeling in your chest.

teucer and childe, and consequently the new recruits, were not at all hard to find. you approach the gathering to see teucer propped up on a nearby rock, head held in his hands as he attentively watched the ceremony. you truly wish you’d kept your eye on teucer before and stopped him from coming here. it’s hard to be reminded of childe’s cold and devoted demeanor when it came to the tsaritsa- though, cold and devoted is what you could call any of her followers.

for some reason, the occasion causes you to pause and watch a bit of the procedure yourself, but you don’t focus on how intense the harbinger’s words are, nor on how the recruits react to it. no, instead you focus on childe’s scars.

they’re so evenly distributed throughout his body, or at least what you can see of it, that it almost seems intentional. at any other time, you would’ve thought them to be artistic and beautif- but err, uhm… but now they only look like glaring reminders of childe’s nature as the tsaritsa’s weapon of war. you’ve always thought that was a baffling title to have.

you notice teucer stand up to wave to his brother in the distance.

“…for the trials that we face are harsh, and the enemies are like- ..ehm,”

childe also looks over to where you were at that very second, catching onto teucer’s excited movements. his eyes asses your group, then they trail over to you and the seconds where your eyes meet seems to last longer than it should- there’s a shocked shift in his gaze and it’s then that you realize you’d been frowning this whole time. the harbinger then regards his brother’s presence and he stutters on his sentence.

“a-ahem, like… kites a-and rattle drums.. who shall become redoubtable foes of mr. cyclops in the marketplaces of liyue..!”

you hear teucer approve of his message right next to you, although the recruits don’t seem entirely sold.

“this is, of course, an analogy. as they say, ���the marketplace, too, is a battlefield.’”

nobody says that.

“so, as your… sales manager here in liyue, i demand that you obey my every order! a refusal shall be considered a betrayal, and the price for betrayal is to be dishonorably discharged from.. a-ahem, the institute of toy research.”

this time, he can’t stupidly get away with this, as both teucer and the recruits seem queasy about the statement- much to childe’s dismay. he looks down for a moment as if to consider his options and shoots up again.

“eh.. uh… forget it! perhaps a round of hands-on training will suit us better!”

just how in teyvat is this guy your superior?

as if everything could not become any more absurd, childe’s proposal seemed to utterly please the new recruits- they whisper and rave to each other about the huge honor that it would be to fight with the eleventh harbinger. you could see the duels’ ends before they even began, with all of these poor newbies licking the dirt as they’re kicked into ground by childe with minimal effort.

just as expected, it’s over rather quickly- though the recruits do hold up their own for longer than you anticipated against someone like childe.

“well then, do you all understand what i said earlier?” childe interrogates with nonchalant confidence, as if he wasn’t slipping up and stumbling on his own words earlier.

“yes, sir!” the recruits heave out exhaustedly.

“excellent, and you all almost managed to get me limbered up. in other words, you’ve done well- for new recruits.”

“thank you, lord harbinger!”

childe gives the recruits some more encouragement before dismissing them as soon as possible. once they take off, teucer takes the opportunity to run up and tell his brother how amazing he was just then.

“teucer- what in the world are you doing here? there i was thinking that these three had taken you to play at wangshu inn, aha!” childe says, the latter sentence is pointed, much like his subtle glare up at the three of you.

“you really did get stronger.” the traveler admits with dignity and childe’s ego, as if it hadn’t been inflated enough by the drooling recruits just now, seems to swell.

“hah, i told you, didn’t it? i never pass on an opportunity to improve my strength. i’m not the

man i was when we first met.”

“you didn’t go all out, though.” she teases.

“by that, i assume you mean i didn’t use foul legacy transformation, yes?”

“it puts a great strain on my body, so it’s best saved for crucial moments.”

your eyes lower into a warning glare, thought playful one. “as if i’d ever let you use it in a situation like this.”

childe laughs with his full chest, amused at your quip.

“ahaha! yes, that much is true. if it hadn’t been for y/n’s medical prowess, i’d still be ways in recovery from the injuries i sustained back at the golden house. and they wouldn’t be a very good medic if they just let me slow down my own healing process, now, would they?”

you two share a knowing look and you give him an approving nod- and as everyone follows suit to look over to you, you fold your arms and pose out proudly, fully drinking up the praise towards your skill.

“anyway, i’m no signora. i don’t use lethal force against recruits, come on now…”

teucer scratches his chin in confusion. “the foul legacy transformation? does it make you stronger than mr. cyclops?”

“ahah… you could say that.” paimon laughs awkwardly.

“i wanna learn how to fight too! i wanna be cool like you!”

“now teucer, fighting isn’t about looking cool. you can only continue to get stronger if you know the reason why you’re fighting.” childe gestures to his younger brother in a lecturing manner.

“i can teach you. but think carefully first- why do you want to fight?”

“i…”

“hm?”

“..i want to protect sister tonia.”

the breath is taken from your chest for a moment. you don’t know what exactly you were expecting teucer’s answer to be but it was certainly not that. it’s so noble and honest and so… ajax, in a sense. you can’t describe what it is, but it sends you back to the times where you and ajax would have late-night deep talks inside pillow forts, whenever he slept over at your house. you’d deliberate about your lives and ambitions and you’d hear ajax express how much he aspired to become like the heroes in his father’s tales. courageous and selfless, so he could brace his fears and protect his loved ones. it’s uncertain if childe recalls the same memory as you, but he’s just as visibly pleased with teucer’s answer.

he pats the younger boy on the top of his head tenderly. “that’s a good answer teucer. when i return to snezhnaya, i will start teaching you fighting techniques.

then, you’ll have to protect tonia for me- how does that sound?”

“hehe, leave it to me!”

“you’ve had a nice long time here in liyue, haven’t you? isn’t it about time you took the boat back home?”

teucer pouts. “but, but… but you’ve been so busy, and we didn’t get any time to play together yet..”

“teucer, you know i’m very busy at work.. and hasn’t it been fun traveling all over the place with y/n and two proper travelers?”

you can tell childe feels like he hasn’t spent enough time with his brother either, but his worry about keeping up the toy seller appearance to protect teucer overcomes him. today has been nothing but close calls for him.

“w-well, how ‘bout this? if you just do one little thing for me, i’ll be a good boy and go back home!”

“oh dear, who taught this little devil to bargain.. alright, what’ll it be?” childe chuckles.

“take me to visit the institute of toy research!”

what? surely he doesn’t mean the research lab… once again, childe seems to have the same thought as you and you take the opportunity to throw him an incredulous, threatening look- as if to tell him ‘this might be your most gods awful idea yet if you take him there..’, but seemingly to no avail.

“done deal. after all, you’ve come all this way for me, teucer…”

childe persuades the traveler and paimon into taking teucer back to the facility at lingju pass and they take off soon after. you decide to stay behind and hopefully steer the harbinger away from the idea and he only faces you in waiting, like he already expects you to reprimand him. you cross your arms disappointedly and sigh.

“you know what i’m about to say to you, right?”

“hm, i might have an idea or two but just-“

“childe, that’s not just some abandoned facility for tourists to frolic inside- it’s dottore’s research lab and it’s active! if the machines inside that place don’t crush us all the second we walk inside, then surely my boss will do worse to us if we put anything out of place. i mean, this whole ordeal started because i had to go regulate the lab, then we found teucer and had to take him elsewhere so nothing bad would happen, who in their right mind-“

two strong, gloved hands come up to hold either side of your face.

the touch is somehow firm enough to effectively shut you up and hold up your head as to fully face childe, but still gentle enough as to not hurt or startle you. the committer of the act stares you right in the eyes, a doting look is apparent on his own azure gaze.

“y/n. answer this simply, do you trust me?”

there’s a pause as you process the development of the literal last 3 seconds and think of an answer- though the distracting, fluttering sensation in your chest also factors in the time you take to actually speak.

“w-well, it’s- it’s not about trusting you or-“

“do. you. trust. me?”

another pause. you look into his eyes as deep as you can and search for anything that says that maybe there’s an off-chance you shouldn’t trust him, but there’s nothing. he’s shown himself more than capable of steering situations back in his control today and it doesn’t need to be spoken how serious he is about protecting his family, even a scratch on teucer’s cheek would be a last case scenario to him. you sigh.

“i trust you, ajax.”

taglist ; @kentply @osaemu @rain-and-a-nice-nap @koichirana

[sorry-moots]

Inversion of Genesis But I Changed It

more crumbs characters featured: scaramouche, childe/tartaglia cws: none wc: 1,904

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Chapter Four

It was nearly five in the evening. You had stayed late writing up a report for a mission your employer went on. He had just returned from Inazuma in a strangely positive mood…

While staying late wouldn't normally be a problem, a blizzard had struck and it looked like the ride home would be dark and frigid.

“It’s cool, it’s fine,” you tried to convince yourself. “A little snow never hurt anyone…”

Meanwhile, Lord Scaramouche is just about tired of watching you. It’s been fifteen minutes since you stationed yourself at the window closest to the palace’s entrance. Every so often, you’d touch the window with a gloved hand and shirk away from the stinging cold. You’d adjusted your cloak three times but still hadn't made any moves to leave.

Someone walks by you and opens the door to leave; you shiver. He lets out a quiet tsk and walks over. If he doesn't tell you to get lost you’ll probably pace around until the sun rises.

“What are you doing.”

Your entire body flinches before you relax yourself and turn around. “Lord Scaramouche! I was just about to leave.”

“Oh, really?” he asked, thoroughly entertained. “Then, what are you waiting for? The door is right there.”

The laughter that escapes you sounds nervous and forced. “I’m just a little concerned about how I'll fare riding in this weather.”

“A ditz like you would probably get lost and die of hypothermia,” the harbinger remarked all too casually.

You tried to smile, but your concern bled through and contorted your face into something different altogether. “Aha... you might be right, my lord.”

You both fell silent for a moment and watched the snow fall. The sky had grown even darker while you spoke.

“I’m coming with you. Don’t try to argue. I’d rather not lose the only useful member of the Fatui to a little bad weather.”

“...As you wish, my lord.”

Save the whistling of wind, the walk to the stable is silent. All your concentration is set on walking straight and maintaining proper posture. Only when you reach the doors do you finally think to ask:

“Lord Scaramouche, do you have a horse?”

Without so much as a break in his stride, Scaramouche says “no”. He then turns to the stableboy and tells him to fetch Tartaglia’s horse because “he won't notice”.

Upon seeing the gargantuan, obsidian black warhorse, your brow furrows– it was hard to believe that Tartaglia wouldn’t notice the absence of such a large creature. Nevertheless, you fetch your own horse and the two of you set off.

Whenever you reach a particularly dark area, he uses lightning to melt the snow and light up the area around you. The purple arcs of plasma are beautiful as they surround you in a sort of force field. 

Apollo, however, doesn’t appreciate their beauty. Every time Scaramouche calls the electro energy back, he shies away and you two bump legs. You apologized at first and did your best to keep Apollo steady, but eventually you gave up. Scaramouche seemed more amused than annoyed, to your relief.

After traipsing through the snow for the better part of an hour, you spot the dim lights of your village. You flick the reins and Apollo picks up the pace, Tartaglia’s horse following suit.

As you near the village gate, you catch sight of your neighbors milling about and slow down.

Noticing your hesitance, Scaramouche speaks up. “What’s the problem?”

You wince and turn to him, not quite meeting his gaze. “I haven’t told any of the villagers that I work for the Fatui… They’re all quite wary of us,” you explained reluctantly. You stared longingly at the cozy, sleepy village.

“My lord…” Summoning all your courage, you looked him in the eye. “I don’t mean to offend you, but I’d be eternally grateful if you were to conceal your identity.”

The harbinger stroked his chin in thought. “Very well, but I’ll need your cloak.”

Your relief was palpable as you removed your cloak and passed it to him. He wrapped the garment around his shoulders and put up the hood. He hid his jingasa beneath it.

The villagers called out greetings and made remarks about the weather. Your next door neighbor gave you soup. No one paid any mind to your guest.

*****

For the most part, you were all settled in. After the two of you ate the soup your neighbor had made and warmed up by fire, you offered the harbinger a set of pajamas you owned with a loose fit. Once he had changed, you took his clothes and changed out of your own so you could wash everything. It would be time to sleep soon.

“I know it's late but would you like some tea before bed?” You know he's picky about his tea but as long as it's sweetened you don't mind which one he chooses. At his nod you went ahead and started listing what you had in your pantry.

“Alright, we have a few options. I have peppermint, butterfly pea flower, jasmi–”

“Black, if you have it,” he interrupted.

“Oh. I have a blend of earl gray I think you might like. I’ll put the kettle on now.”

Your skin prickles knowing your boss is observing you. I hope my house is clean. I hope he doesn't mind that it's small. I hope it doesn't smell weird.

The whistling of the kettle brings you out of your stupor and you pour the steaming water into a modest teapot on a wooden tray before adding the dried leaves. You grab some cups from your cabinet, two teaspoons, and a dish of sugar you keep separate for this type of occasion. As the tea finishes steeping, you carefully walk to the table and set the tray down as slowly as you can to avoid spilling anything.

Once you pour the tea, you look up and ask the harbinger if he’d like any sugar. He shakes his head no. The two of you drink your tea in silence.

You finish your tea faster than anticipated, so you excuse yourself to find some blankets for the man sitting at your table.

*****

While your house does have a second bedroom, you don’t own a second bed. With this being the case, you offered to give it up so he could sleep comfortably, but he volunteered to sleep on your sofa. Your desire to keep him comfortable led to you fussing over him. You only stopped when he asked if you were going to tuck him in, too.

Your apprehension makes it hard to sleep. After you wake up for the third time, you look for something to do in the hopes of tiring yourself out.

Scaramouche awakens to you spinning yarn early in the morning in the next room over. He doesn’t say anything; he just watches because of how peaceful you look.

Finally, you notice he’s awake and address him, the mask of subservience back in place. “I didn’t wake you, did I, my lord?”

He nearly tells the truth, but thinks better of it. “No, you didn’t. Continue.” 

“As you wish.” Eventually, you forget he's there. You even lose track of what you yourself are thinking and doing.

Until you hear a knock that is.

Who could possibly be at my door at six in the morning? “I’m so sorry, my lord, can you get that for me? I’m a little tangled up at the moment.”

He doesn't say anything but he stands and walks to the door. When he opens it, he's met with a furious Tartaglia.

“You took my fucking horse?”

If Scaramouche was surprised, he didn't let it show. “Yeah? So, what.”

“He’s my horse!!”

“Tch, like I care,” he responds, poised to shut the door on the red-faced redhead.

Before he can slam your front door, you intervene. “Lord Childe, please forgive me,” you said, bowing apologetically. “Last night's snowfall was particularly heavy and his lordship decided to borrow your horse and accompany me home so I wouldn't get lost.”

“Oh, [Y/n], no worries! You can take my carriage next time you need a ride,” he said before lowering his voice to a whisper and teasingly adding, “It's really big.”

There's a hint of panic in your voice and you struggle to meet Childe’s eyes. “Thank you for the offer, but his lordship has strongly discouraged the fostering of any sort of relationship between us, professional or platonic.”

“But whyyy?” he whines.

Scaramouche butts in. “I don't want your stupid to rub off on her.”

With a dramatic flair, Tartaglia takes both your hands and spins you around, caging you in his arms. “But what if we're soulmates???”

Any other day, Scaramouche would be on Childe in an instant, but he can't help but admire your flustered state. You look helpless, like a cat being waved around in the air by its owner. The befuddlement on your face is endearing, not that he'd ever admit it.

A moment passes and he finally levels a venomous glare at the young harbinger. “Put my assistant down, before I feed your horse to your family.”

Childe gasps dramatically, like the women in my mom’s telenovelas. “Well, I never. I’m leaving and I’m taking Nikolai with me. Good day, [Y/n], Scaramouche.” With a final hmph! the ginger lets himself out to collect his steed.

“Good riddance,” Scaramouche muttered.

“I would agree with you, sir, but without Lord Childe’s stallion, we’re left with one horse,” you reminded him.

“Well, then, I guess your mount will just have to carry us both,” he responded cavalierly.

Half past seven, you’re both standing in front of the stable’s only occupant. You’ve already tacked him up, but you want Apollo to get a good whiff of his new rider to make sure he doesn’t freak out on the road.

Your voice is gentle and calm as you guide the Clydesdale out of his stall. “I want you to meet someone. He’s very important, so please be nice to him. If this doesn’t go well I won’t be able to afford the hay you like.”

Now that he’s out in the open, you turn to Scaramouche. “Apollo, I present to you Lord Scaramouche, 6th of the Fatui Harbingers. Lord Scaramouche, Apollo.”

The man’s lip curls in mild distaste as he reaches out to pat the horse’s nose. “Why’s his name Apollo? It sounds cheesy.”

“It is cheesy,” you answer with half-hearted scorn. “A children’s book that was popular when my parents were younger had a character named Apollo. In the stories, Apollo was responsible for moving the sun and in their eyes, I’m the sun that Apollo– my horse– is moving.”

Scaramouche suddenly stops caressing the Clydesdale’s snout. “That’s… atrocious.”

“I’m used to it by now,” you say, grinning wider than ever. You appreciated your boss’s sense of humor. “Back to the task at hand, which of us is riding in front? I have no preference.”

“I’ll sit in front; my hat will bump into your back if I sit behind you.”

The harbinger swings himself into the saddle with ease and, to your surprise, reaches down to help you. It feels awkward at first, since you don’t want to cling to him, but when it starts to flurry, you tuck your head under his hat to keep your hair dry. If he’s upset, he doesn’t say anything about it.

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a/n: there's only one bed trope? nahh there's only one HORSE >>>>>

[seelestia]

— 𝐖𝐄𝐋𝐂𝐎𝐌𝐄 𝐇𝐎𝐌𝐄.

SUMMARY. they come home to find you asleep on the couch while waiting for their return.

CHARACTERS. ayato, diluc, childe, albedo, alhaitham.

GENRE. domestic fluff.

CW. mentions of sharing a bed (but nothing suggestive), reader gets carried bridal style (diluc), reader calls childe 'ajax'.

THOUGHTS. this mix of characters may seem random, but they just came to mind when i first thought of this concept. also, because sleepy reader supremacy !! <3

✰ masterlist.

☆ AYATO . . . lets out a fond sigh at the sight of you. He has told you before that the piles of paperwork on a commissioner's desk varies from day to day, thus there is no set time when he'd come to bed — but you didn't listen, did you? "How stubborn," his chest rumbles with a chuckle, his tone leaning more towards endearment than anything.

You sure are an exquisite one. He'd be lying if he says that stubbornness of yours, paired with your adorable face as you sleep, don't enamor him in the slightest.

Ayato can already feel the tension in his muscles melt in an instant, as if your mere presence becomes waves that wash away the burdens of his mind. With a loving sigh, he tucks a stray strand of hair that has fallen over your face, "I'm truly lucky."

He'd really hate to disturb your sleep; but he thinks sleeping in his embrace on a bed that is much comfier than this couch is a better suggestion, no? People sleep a bed for a reason, after all.

☆ DILUC . . . dismisses a worried Adelinde who informs him of your obstinacy to wait for his return. "It's alright, I'll take care of them," he shakes his head before carefully scooping you into his arms. If Diluc were to be honest, he already expects this from you ever since you've expressed your desire to greet him home even after his dealings with notorious organizations at night.

He often tells you to prioritize your sleep more — but as he holds you like this, Diluc can't help but feel a tinge of appreciation, albeit melancholically.

"...You're back?" You lift your head groggily, shaken awake by Diluc's movements as he moves up the stairs with you in his arms. He presses a kiss to the crown of your head with a hushed noise, "Shh, go back to sleep."

He feels undeserving. You're too good to be true; so, the least he can do is to be as good to you as you are to him.

☆ CHILDE . . . tucks himself beside you, one arm lazily thrown over your body to bring you closer. "Ajax, you're sweaty," you stir in your sleep with a whine, recognizing your lover's warmth instantly. He puts on an offended frown, "I just got home and this is how I'm greeted?" Yet, that frown melts away in a second as he peppers your face with little kisses in between playful giggles. So much for being offended, huh?

Engaging in battles often leaves the Eleventh Harbinger with a hunger for more; he wishes his body is as cooperative as that mindset of his — but when he is with you, he can feel all that physical strain gnawing at his muscles washed away just by holding you like this.

Screw going to bed. Anything can be a bed as long as he has you in his arms, right? He's totally right on this one.

☆ ALBEDO . . . maneuvers his way quietly to you without a sound. A ripple of guilt swirls in his chest when the Chief Alchemist realizes that you've fallen asleep whilst waiting for him to return home. He contemplates waking you up, but he suddenly halts upon seeing the expression on your face — and Albedo can't help but smile fondly.

Whatever could you be dreaming about? He wonders. In the end, Albedo decides to take a seat across the couch, but his gaze not once leaves you. He feels like he can paint you in his mind again and again without ever feeling restless; and exactly that, he does until he, too, slowly drifts into slumber.

☆ ALHAITHAM . . . places his coat on top of you as a temporary blanket. "Your mulishness really knows no limits," he crosses his arms against his chest in exasperation. Alhaitham isn't someone who is fond of such romantic sentiments like foolishly sacrificing sleep to wait for your lover — but the gentleness in his movements, like the mindful hand of a researcher holding a fragile relic, as he takes off his coat to settle it over your figure almost proves otherwise.

Funny, Alhaitham isn't even trying to prove anything; see it however you want, but he doesn't want to be seen as a romantic whatsoever. He is just looking out for his partner, that is all.

─ ⊹ ⊱ ・・・・・・☆・・・・・・・⊰ ⊹ ─

✰ TAGLIST: @meimeimeirin @tsuk4sa-yug1 @hcikazu @catcze @semi-orangeapple @yuuki4646 @d-a-r-k-s-w-a-n @dearcalis @leon-to-sayaka — [ bolded names are unable to be tagged + register here to be a part of my taglist! ]

© SEELESTIA, oct 2022. do not repost, plagiarize, translate nor claim as your own.

[lavendermin]

would you mind | childe

pairing | childe/reader

word count | 1.9k

genre | developing relationship, light smut, complicated feelings

If ever there was a force greater than the ancient winds of old Mondstadt, it was that harbinger from Snezhnaya. All it took was one afternoon during your shift for him to gain an interest in you—a fascination maybe.

The Fatui weren’t known for a good reputation in Liyue, and it only made you a bit uneasy knowing his high ranking—a cautious approach to a stranger in higher power. You couldn’t deny him and you didn’t dare show disrespect for subtle fear of consequence.

Rumors of people getting blackmailed—or worse— from getting tangled with the Fatui spread like wildfire in the harbor. Though they were baseless accusations, they didn’t stop from simmering in the back of your mind. The ‘what if’ was a damning point your mind made. Rumors didn’t come from nowhere around these parts.

Though Childe carried a sense of danger with him, there was something about him that kept your nerves manageable. The persona he carried was very impressionable, maybe even a little irritating at times. He was a persistent one.

“Mind if I join you for lunch?”

“Sir… I work here.” He knew this, too, yet he always arrived at the tea house with the same line. Still, you were quick to tend to him.

Childe hummed, eyes grinning with him as he happily plopped down at the table you swiftly offered him. “I’ll take that as an opportunity. The usual, please.”

Just treat him like a normal patron, was a personal mantra to get you through a shift at the tea house.

You were just lucky he was well-mannered. It made dealing with him easier. There was something about him that irked you, but at the end of the day he was polite and never forced a conversation if you were busy serving others.

“You don’t seem to talk much these days,” Childe notes as he swirls the remnants of his tea in its cup. It’s nearing closing time and you keep glancing over at the clock as he makes no move to leave. He sighs dramatically, “I miss our conversations.”

It’s playful, knowing full-well you hardly ever speak to avoid trouble from your boss. Maybe you would blame it on the exhaustion of a long shift, maybe put blame on lack of sleep. The comment, however, still makes you break seriousness and you erupt in an abrupt fit of laughter you quickly fight to quiet down. Luckily you’re closing by yourself tonight.

The sound is melodic, surprising Childe as a grin grows on his face. Though your back is turned as your shoulders shake from suppressed laughter, he can see the embarrassed red at the tips of your ears.

Oh, so you did find his company entertaining.

Your back straightens, and when you turn around you’re back to keeping him at a distance with an air of seriousness. Nothing more than work and patrons.

Childe leaves after wishing you a safe trip home and thanks for the wonderful service, as usual. The briskness of the cool night air keeps his mind intrigued once more with the mystery that surrounds you. Duty in Liyue was getting quite boring, and he decided to indulge in figuring you out.

“Would you mind if I joined you for a stroll?”

The familiar ginger hair strode up matching your pace. In the bustling crowd of the harbor, his presence sticks out like the cries of seagulls overhead. Maybe it’s your paranoia, but you swear people make an effort to move away from your little bubble he now infiltrated.

Still, he’s a harbinger.

So you nod quietly.

“I’m just running errands. It’s quite boring.” The way his eyes linger on yours for a second longer has you averting your gaze. The smile he wears… since when did it make your chest squeeze?

“I’m sure not as boring as some of the tasks I’m given,” he chuckles.

“Paperwork, I’m sure,” you guess idly. The vague smile he throws you has something about it that sends chills running down your spine.

“Something like that.”

The chuckle you give him is a little nervous. You aren’t sure what tasks he gets but you aren’t sure you’re willing to find out.

“Feel free to join me if you’d like, then.”

And for the rest of the day he patiently strolls around with you around the harbor through idle chatter. From dock to dock he follows, offering to pay the entire sum of anything on your errands list. The unlimited financial power he holds both terrifies and amazes you.

From then on, his company became frequent on your errand runs. Many shop keepers at first got anxious with a Fatui agent escorting you around, but his bright charisma won them over eventually. Business was business in the end, and his tendency to let the shopkeeper ‘keep the change’ won the favor of many.

You forgot when exactly you stopped trying to shake him off altogether. Perhaps you got too complacent since there was little you could do. Some days you even enjoyed his company. Childe was a good listener on days when you were a little more talkative, and he would always answer with utmost sincerity.

Yes, you looked forward to his little greeting and chance encounters on the harbor. Part of you hated the fact that you got so comfortable with him but the louder part of you was conflicted with bubbling feelings for the harbinger. For months on end you kept those feelings suppressed in the deepest parts of your heart.

And then the storm season hit.

“Mind some company?”

The water dripped down your face, soaked clothes clinging to your form as you stood under a tree near the outskirts of the harbor. Your eyes were wide, doe-like as you peered up at the familiar voice.

“Oh, sure.” Your eyes drift back to stare absentmindedly at the puddles rippling in the rain. “I was just waiting for the rain to let up a bit so I can make it back home.”

Childe hums, his usual charismatic smile bright on his face. It’s a little dangerous, and makes your heart race. Addicting.

“You know, at this rate you’ll get sick by the time you get home. I say we just make a run for it,” he offers with a devilish grin.

The frown you give him only further amuses him. “Run? Through the pouring rain?”

“Got any better ideas?”

You sigh, the sound of pattering rain filling the silence as you weigh your options.

“Fine. Okay.”

He grins, and you surrender to letting the harbinger have his way in the rain. Through the streets you both run, footsteps cutting through puddles and crowds of people with umbrellas. It’s thrilling and you can’t help but laugh at how fun running through the rain is. You both look like lovers that got caught in an unfortunate circumstance, and your chest wells up with feelings as you watch Childe pull you through crowds and street vendors.

The storm is raging outside, rain pattering on windows that rattle softly from the wind. It’s soaked you both to the bone by the time you arrive at your little flat. The room is quiet save for the rain that relentlessly knocks on the windows.

The quiet sound of panting fills the room as you both catch your breath from running through the rain, towels draped over your heads as you try to warm up.

“It’s pretty rough out there,” Childe notes, looking out the window. “Any longer out there and the wind might have picked you up before I did.”

It’s wordless—the way you join him by the window to look out at a grey city. You give a silent hum as you finish towel-drying your hair. The expression you wear is serious, aloof as you’re unreadable in your thoughts.

Childe is the first to speak, his voice soft and sincere—perhaps a little disappointed at your return to keeping him at arm’s length. “I’ll get going then. Glad you could make it home sa—“

It comes as a surprise—the sudden kiss you give him. Your small hands pull him down by his shirt collar to meet your lips in a rushed kiss. He’s quick to return the gesture, his lips curved in a smirk against yours.

You pull away breathless, face a little flushed. The frown you wear is adorable, a pout almost. “I hate that I like you.”

Childe is at your lips again, a breathy chuckle rumbling through his chest as he cages you against the wall. “And here I was thinking I’d never woo you, what with you not liking the Fatui and all.”

You cut him off with another kiss to hide the heat rising to your face. “Stop talking.”

He laughs wholeheartedly, his body against yours as you melt against his lips. It’s needy and rough. The sounds of your soft pants and little gasps are washed away by the rumbling thunder outside.

And through the storm, you spend the night. Childe feels like he’s won—gained one step closer to knowing more about you. He wanted to know all your faces, uncover all the mysteries and unknowns you held. And through the night, he learned of your sensitivities, the little noises you made, and the gestures that made your heart leap.

He had you around his finger. But perhaps the same could be said about him.

Early morning comes, the light barely coming through the window to illuminate the dark room. From under a mess of sheets you stir, body sore. Your fingers graze over the blooming markings on your chest and neck.

Beside you Childe sleeps soundly, his broad back dusted in light freckles and scratch marks. The way he hugs the pillow makes his sleeping face look almost kid-like in innocence. You’d never think he was a war machine for an archon.

You push the sinking feeling away, and brush some hair out of his eyes. The featherlight kiss you place atop his head stirs him from his sleep.

“Mornin’. Here I thought you would be gone by now,” he mumbles groggily. With his tousled hair and sleepy smile, you find it incredibly difficult to feel annoyed.

“I live here.”

He chuckles at this, grabbing you by the waist and pulling you against him. You scramble to pull the blanket over your bare body and though he finds it amusing, he doesn’t comment on your shyness. “Would you mind if I stayed the morning, then? The rain isn’t letting up anytime soon.”

“That sounds like an awfully obvious lie,” you retort.

It’s hard to ignore the hardness that presses against your abdomen. The lack of shame on his content face irks you. Still, you don’t deny the way your body heats up once more.

“Your face is just so cute when you’re begging,” Childe teases, pressing kisses up your neck.

“Childe, sto—haah.”

In a swift motion, he has you straddling him. You can feel his hardness press against your ass, sending a shudder of anticipation through your body. The ache in your thighs tries to protest against the lust-driven haze clouding your judgement.

Childe’s hands are already massaging the soft flesh at your hips, hands waiting for permission. “What do you say, sweetheart? Another round if you can keep up?”

“Y–You have duties to tend to, don’t you?” you bring up meekly, eyes shut tight as he bites a sweet spot on your neck that hitches your breath. Slowly, your mind is losing itself, drunk on his attention again.

With a smirk against your skin, he answers simply, “They won’t mind my whereabouts in this weather.”

[divinolenta]

albedo, diluc + zhongli with a blunt s/o

character x male reader, fluff/sfw

additional notes: requested by a lovely anon! thank you for requesting ♡ my first time writing a male reader (although i feel like it’s more gender neutral here, my apologies), definitely not my best work so i hope it’s ok :( i’d love if you could give me some feedback on this so i can improve! i strive to make this blog more inclusive for all readers! please enjoy these headcanons and i’m sorry for the long wait :(

albedo:

albedo honestly doesn’t care

like diluc, he can be incredibly frank too, so he doesn’t mind it. to him, you’re transparent and easy to read, and he prefers it that way. albedo doesn’t have time nor does he care for embellished words with buried ulterior motives that he has to decipher

you easily earn his trust, and in turn, albedo sheds the distantly courteous demeanour of his and lets himself be vulnerable in your presence

loves having deep debates and discussions with you! this usually happens as you huddle under the blankets with him. he especially loves talking about his experiments because you’re not afraid to voice your opinion, unlike some of his more timid colleagues (he will definitely consider your input and use it to further improve and analyze his findings)

however, these conversations tend to extend late into the night (he would talk until the crack of dawn if he could, or if you’d let him), until he’s struggling to keep his eyes open and your words are barely audible, sentences slurring together due to fatigue

he doesn’t get irritated or offended either, he’ll seriously contemplate your words, even if they oppose his own beliefs (probably religiously believes to “agree to disagree”)

albedo lets himself melt and relax when he’s alone with you and shoves the turbulent thoughts to a side, nestling into bed with you and dropping his proper and polite facade that he shows in public, revealing a sleepy and affection man under. you’re the mirage he sees as he drags himself through a sandstorm, throat parched and rough, craving your soothing presence

paimon snickers when she sees the stark contrast between the way he treats you and others. albedo poorly veils his exasperation and annoyance when he converses with his peers and she loves to try to guess what he’s thinking, along with commentary

hardly gets jealous because you’re able to quickly reject others who are interested in you and he trusts you wholeheartedly. however, when albedo notices that you’re starting to get uncomfortable, he’ll come up and backhug you, chin propped on your shoulder as he stares disdainfully at the other person. “he’s mine.”  (an individual who is indifferent to someone’s discomfort will never earn his trust and respect)

diluc:

at first, diluc is troubled by your bluntness

although he can be rather curt himself, he finds that your honesty is unsettling and comes off as, no offense, borderline rude

perhaps this is because he is constantly surrounded by individuals who allow sickly sweet lies to fall from their lips as freely as the flow of the river. he’s just accustomed to others feigning cordiality and benevolence in order to befriend him

when he finds out that you actually don’t have a penchant for pretty words he warms up to you, and finds that he truly enjoys your company. diluc feels like he can rant about anything, and perhaps it’s foolish of him, but his guard crumbles so easily when he speaks with you

let’s be honest, when you’re pining for each other, you’d probably be the first one to confess. there’s no other meaning to your words, and he’s pleasantly surprised, a blush creeping up his neck (it’s like pouring gasoline on to a fire, and watching it burn) as he accepts your confession with a shy smile

knowing that you’re so honest, diluc has a whole crisis when you tell him you love him or compliment him. his brain just short-circuits and he’s a stammering mess, too flustered to reciprocate the affection

bonus points if you make a snarky remark about how easy he is to fluster! (”heh, your face is as red as your hair, diluc.” “q-quiet.”)

more often than not, diluc enjoys the sight of you ignoring or abruptly cutting through kaeya’s advances and implications. he can’t hide his satisified smile when he hears the suave calvary captain go quiet after you tell him to shut up (swears he falls even deeper in love with you)

you’re both venti and kaeya’s worst nightmares. diluc’s bluntness and vexation? pfft easy to deal with. but you and diluc? the moment they’ve had more than a few drinks, you’re supporting diluc’s campaign to permanently kick them out the tavern, reminding them both terrifyingly of two fathers, arms crossed with stern scowls (on rare occasions, you’re on their side and they rejoice. diluc is irked by how they only listen to you)

zhongli:

zhongli isn’t put off by your bluntness, rather he welcomes it

personally, it just means that every word that slips past your lips are sincere and you truly mean it with all your heart

he loves it, really, especially when he rambles about the history of liyue and tells you stories, and you stare at him with such wonder in your eyes (your eyes, he reflects, could rival the celestial stars with the way they sparkle and shine)

when you bombard him with questions or comment on little details, zhongli falls in love all over again, because no matter how direct or gruff your words may be, he knows you have a heart of gold, infinite times more precious than mora or any jewel in the world

he finds it amusing when you get impatient in the middle of the story and interrupt him, begging him to get to the moral of the story

“get to the point, please” you groan, and zhongli chuckles, “have a bit more patience, my beloved.” (were the poetic metaphors and flowery language driving you insane? perhaps)

speaking of patience, his patience is infinite, i swear. the resilient and serene earth to combat the impulsive and fierce fire, zhongli listens to you with the patience of a saint, and your honesty and bluntness makes you so endearing in his eyes, all that runs through his mind is god you’re so cute and he loves you so much (practically makes heart eyes at you, cue childe gagging in the background)

loves giving you nicknames that suit your fiery and frank nature (my fireball…etc.)!

ever the gentleman, zhongli’s way of speech is sophisticated and quite flattering, so sometimes he has a hard time denying others, and he’s led cluelessly into a lion’s den.

thankfully, you’re there to stop that from happening, and most of the time, you’re able to steer him back to safety. you’re also there to bargain for him because zhongli is notorious for spending all his mora on beautiful, intricate and useless things (trick question: are you his boyfriend or are you his secretary?)

you’ve also probably tried to distance him from childe (who knows what the no-good fatui might be up to?) by directly asking him, positive that he was trying to get zhongli in his debt (he’s utterly confused: “why would i do that, my dear?” and probably tries to acquaint you with the harbinger)

pov: you’re sitting at the same table, subtly insulting each other while zhongli is distracted by his tea, sipping the fragrant liquid, paying no heed to you and childe

[rilumine]

How their kisses taste

Characters: Ganyu, Tartaglia Pairings: Genshin Impact x gn!Reader A/N: Requested by yours truly! Just a little smth to start this blog off. (also not proofread, whoops)

Ganyu's kisses taste like the morning dew of the glaze lilies.

Most know the qilin secretary as an ostensibly hard worker, so none among the Liyue Qixing could've foreseen that she already had a very lovely partner of her own. But for most, the shock soon dissipates into kind regards. After all, the secretary has worked centuries for the sake of Liyue, has she not? So surely she deserves some happiness of her own.

As Ganyu's loved one, you are privy to a side of her that very few get to see.  

Just as few are witness to the morninglight shining through the dewdrop of the precious flower she holds so dear to her heart, only you are witness to dishevelled azure hair, drool residue on puffy cheeks, sleepy violet eyes just barely awake.

On her rare days off from work, the two of you spend the morning curled up together in bed. No obligation for either of you to wake. An unfamiliar serenity, a scarce relief for the two of you. You, a hard working adventurer, and her, the diligent emissary.

She rouses, only to place a soft kiss on your lips. To which, you pull her in deeper.  

Ganyu's kisses are no less pure than the whole grain and spring water she consumes, no less sweet than the nectar of the Qingxin

Tender and light, the ever-gentle touch of her finger running along your cheek. Her kisses are tender, yet adeptal side treating you so fragile as if you could burst like a dewdrop at anytime.

But your (e/c) eyes, laced with an adoring affection, compels her just melt into your touch.

She's really touchstarved, please treat this bby well;;

A soft warmth emanates from her lips, leaving you breathless each time you pull back. And you can't help but notice a slight twinge of pink dusting her cheeks.  

The bedroom was silent, save for the birdsong of finches out in the streets, except for the quiet whisper your girlfriend let out.

"我��拥有你的全部，永远，你和我，每时每刻, (y/n)。”

Tartaglia's kisses taste like the rays of dawn on Dragonspine.

Many have warned you against associating with the Fatui, a dangerous organisation, infamous for their dirty debt collection methods. However, by some humorous twist of fate, you ended up making a boyfriend out of the 11th Fatui Harbinger. Funny how fate works sometimes.

As such, you have been the target of many a suspicious look from other locals, walking down the street hand in hand with the harbinger. It doesn’t bother you too much though. And if it does, Tartaglia is more than happy to shut them up.

Childe pls no-

He doesn't shy away from giving or receiving public affection, rather he revels in it. Any chance to showcase your relationship is a chance he consistently takes. Nothing too dirty though. Just the occasional peck on the cheek or lips, a simple ruffle of the hair, that's all.

But he absolutely adores your surprised, flustered expressions. After all, it's not his fault you look so cute.

However, in private is a whole other matter.

In private, he becomes hungry for your affection. His kisses are deep, desperate, carnivorous even. Seeking to encapsulate every part of your sweet lips, leaving you with no time to gasp for air. His tongue delves deep into your mouth, your knees giving out at this point. It's messy, it's sloppy, it's every bit the blood-thirsty warrior he is.

However...

There are times when his kisses are oh so tender.

He will cradle your body gently in his arms, lips slowly melding into each other. No words are spoken during these times, no words are needed. Your bodies don't part, and neither of you want to let go. Tartaglia would give anything if just to freeze this moment in time.

Truly, you are his moon, his starlight, his sun. No one else could ever melt the heart of the icy warrior like this.

"Я готов на все ради тебя, (y/n)"

[batkatbrown]

Beyond the Sea - C 15

Big Thanks to Marinus, Ghost, 'somebody' and Anons for sponsoring this chapter on ko-fi.com/batkatbrown

Read on Ao3 Here

Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four | Part Five | Part Six | Part Seven| Part Eight | Part Nine | Part Ten | Part Eleven | Part Twelve | Part Thirteen | Part Fourteen

Jesse lazily swam through the highway of tubes while Hanzo showered. He stretched out to trail his fingertips along the walls before diving down to the bottom floor. The living room made more sense now that he could get some perspective on it.

Exploring the winding hot pink, neon yellow and electric blue tunnel, he chuckled to see just how much things had changed since he’d first come here. There was mess everywhere for one. Not enough to make the average person cringe but the clinical, baren feeling was gone. There were books scattered on the coffee table and stacked in haphazard piles around the sofa.

The leafy plants had broken from their carefully confined pots to spread across the window sill in the kitchen and the mint was threatening to jump to other pots. Jesse paused to look into Hanzo’s magic room. Little more than a closet, it now stayed open most of the time. Notebooks full of scribbling and diagrams littered the space and jars of seaweed and sand and tiny bones from fish were stacked along the walls and piled up where the shelves were too full.

He wanted to hold one of the massive pearls that were nestled on a blue velvet tray. It would be the size of his head. He’d loved diving for oysters back home and slurping the tasty little treat down straight.

Pearls felt good in the mouth and crunched so perfectly between his teeth. He licked his lips and wistfully daydreamed about foraging with Hanzo in the warm water along the coast. They would swim lazily down together. Hanzo’s arms would go around his waist, his legs curled around his tail as they dove.

Hanzo’s hair would drift like ink in the water and the sunlight would shimmer endlessly on his face. Jesse would crack open the clams with his claws and offer the tender meat. He could see the way hanzo’s face tightened with pleasure as he slurped it from the shell.

They would wander the coast till they were tired.

The fantasy began to fall apart.

Where would Hanzo stay? Would Jesse deliver him to the surface and watch as the man walked away. Could Jesse convince him to stay under the waves and slumber in a nest made for two.

--

Hanzo left in the middle of the night.

The moon was hidden behind a thick veil of clouds and he was just another shadow lurking in a dingy alley. Fine mist hovered in the air and he blinked away the moisture gathering on his eyelashes as he waited.

The neon sign glowed and shimmered like an otherworldly harbinger of prophecy across the street. It cast shards of hot pink across his face and stabbed into his eyes. He blinked them away and let the minutes trickle past.

“You should really wear less cologne. I could smell you down the block.”

Hanzo tensed as a figure appeared from the shadows next to him. The white of his mask reflected the light and the markings seemed to curl and undulate. Horns arched from the crest and fangs jutted from the grinning mouth.

Hanzo threw himself forward and dragged the figure into a tight hug. “I have missed your terrible sense of humor.” He laughed into his brother’s shoulder as he was picked up. Ribs groaned as his little brother crushed him and his feet nearly left the ground. “Have you grown even more?”

“I just stand straighter these days.” Genji released him and slapped him roundly on the back. “We should not speak here. There are eyes, even here.”

Hanzo nodded and stood to the side as Genji drew his short blade. The edge shown green in the night and the mist made streaks of color smear in the air. Four slashes, too fast to follow, and a portal opened. The diamond mouth dragged in the air around them and Hanzo shuddered. He never liked traveling this way.

The dragons rolled under his skin and he had to quiet them with a murmured promise of safety. There was no danger here. Other than being shattered inside the portal and disappearing into oblivion.

Genji was already stepping through with the casual recklessness he always displayed. Hanzo straightened his shoulders and raised his chin. He was proud that his hands only shook slightly as the void swallowed him.

He sucked in a harsh breath as reality snapped back around him. Cold air burned his lungs and he coughed into swirls of snow. High mountain winds blustered him and knocked him back. He squinted into the gale and glared at his brother.

“You did not warn me you lived in the mountains now.”

“It’s not far! I thought you were tough, brother?” Genji’s shit eating grin was clear in his voice, even behind his mask.

Hanzo rolled his eyes as they started to climb the hill. A small village layout below them, covered in snow and bundled tight against a storm. Hanzo kept his head down as they drifted across the mountain. The pathways wound up to a large building with sturdy cut stones. It was ancient and Hanzo shivered as they passed beneath a stone arch way.

The dim morning light struggled against the heavy clouds.

He was glad to be out of the wind as they climbed steps to a small room. A bridge ran from it to a central building but the door kept most of the chill out. The window was covered in frost.

“Forgive the cold. I will bring the fire up.” Genji knocked snow from his shoulders and crouched in front of the hearth. A bank of coals glowed when he breathed on them and then burst into raging flames.

“Show off.”

Hanzo huffed at the shameless display of magic but drew close to the fire. He warmed his hands and shed his damp coat. The room was heating quickly and he began to relax some. Soon there was a kettle of musky, fragrant tea leaves and spices over the fire and both brothers stared into its depth with blankets drawn around their shoulders.

Genji pulled the kettle from the fire and mixed in milk from a small container sitting near the coals. It turned the tea into a beautiful swirl of color and Hanzo could lose himself into it. He breathed in the scent before sipping.

It was sweet and welcomed on his tongue.

“Your message was cryptic.”

“The witch still thinks you are dead.”

“More cryptic than normal.” Genji pushed the mask back enough to sip the burning liquid. “What have you gotten yourself into Hanzo?”

“I need your help getting into far more.”

“I have lived for this moment.” Genji crowd and they clicked their cups together. Trouble had always brought them together and Genji snatched the grimoire from his hands with a wild light in his eyes. “Trouble indeed.”

-

Hanzo stumbled home as the sun rose, shivering from the portal’s void. There was a wax paper packet folded and sealed closed stashed in the lining of his coat. The green dragon’s mouth roared from the wax seal and gnashed it’s teeth.

His dragons undulated slowly in response, a lazy teasing type of energy as if the green dragon was merely a rambunctious puppy. Hanzo touched the spot over his heart and he could feel the hidden spell.

Heat lingered despite the snow that was melting on his shoulders from his brother’s tight hug. They had spent the night pouring over the grimoire again and sharing stories of the past year apart.

They parted with promises to meet again as soon as it was safe. The portals were too easy to track to use frequently and Genji still owed the Witch of the Waste enough that her eyes were peeled for him.

Hanzo hung his coat by the door and tugged the sash out of his hair. It feel around him with a horrible kink from the band. He fussed with the damp strands as he shuffled to the kitchen and fell upon the first food he could find.

“Can I have some?”

Hanzo whipped around guilty, spoon hanging out of his mouth and jar of peanut butter in hand. Jesse waved from his locked tank, sleepy and soft with his hair sticking up wildly. Did he sleep on land?

“Of course,” Hanzo shuffled into the living room and unlocked the tank. He lifted his little damp friend from the sand and half collapsed into the chair. He slunk down in the seat and pillowed Jesse on his chest. He licked the back of the spoon clean before dipping the tip into the jar. He offered the little dollop to Jesse.

The merman shuffled forward and nosed along the spoon. He tried to lick some off but struggled to keep his balance on his single hand. Hanzo waited for a moment, trying not to smile, before smearing a little of the creamy peanut butter on his index finger.

He offered it to Jesse and popped the spoon back in his mouth.

“You spoil me, Sugar,” Jesse crooned and leaned in to lick it off.

Hanzo squirmed as a long tongue flicked out and swirled over the skin. It was a tiny trail of warmth and sent pinpricks of pleasure down his spine. He tilted his index finger to press just a bit into Jesse’s ministrations.

Sharp teeth scraped along the valleys and mountains of his fingerprint to chase the treat and Hanzo was soon dipping it back into the peanut butter. They repeated the ritual and Hanzo forgot his hunger as Jesse lapped along his digit, his arm wrapped tightly around the knuckle.

He gulped around a hot throbbing need in his throat.

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[peachpety]

Harry and the Typical, Awful, Chaotic, Very-Promising Morning

Rated: T

In Harry's some-odd years on this earthly rock, spinning around a dying star, he’s learned a few things about himself.

He adores vanilla ice cream. Maybe more than treacle tart.

Draco ribs him about his blandness every time he delivers a scoop atop his dessert, and so Harry reminds him of how un-vanilla they are. It draws a blush to the back of Draco’s neck and elicits enthusiastic retching sounds from the kids.

His favourite day is today, the first day of autumn—a harbinger of all things gloriously fall: crisp walks amidst golden leaves, pumpkin hunting at the farmers market, and Molly’s blackberry crumble...with vanilla ice cream, thank you very much.

And… he is not a morning person.

Oh, he gets up bloody early, thanks to an aging bladder and Albus’ restless legs. Or Lily’s elbow in his eyesocket. Sometimes both. Mornings had been almost bearable back before kids, when Draco would wake him up with his hot mouth and sleepy hands.

Back when the dawn wasn’t the only thing rising.

Harry frowns at the sun cracking the treeline out the window, spilling light into 12 Grimmauld’s kitchen like the yolk of the egg running in the frypan.

“Daaaad!” Lily whines from the kitchen table. “James is eating all the cereal!”

“It’s my cereal,” James says, holding the box out of reach, lording over her with his newly-sprouted three inch height advantage that has also shortened his jeans.

Lily sticks out her tongue. “Tosser.”

“Lily!” Albus says, scandalized. “Dad, Lily said a bad word!”

The acrid smell of burning toast assails Harry, and he sighs at the bubbling eggs. “Scorp, the toast.”

Scorpius stands at the counter, sleep rumpled, and he looks so much like Draco, Harry’s heart melts. His un-seeing thousand-mile stare widens his amber eyes as he waits on his toast—plain with a dab only of butter, please. Harry secretly loves that Scorpius shares his penchant for the simple things, a vanilla kinship.

“Ugh,” Lily says. She collects her long auburn hair into a wad at the back of her neck. “Now my hair will smell all burnt.”

“An improvement,” James smirks. Lily smacks his arm, sending dry cereal spilling over the table. “Dad, Lily made a mess!”

“You’re the one pouring out the entire box!”

James digs a hand into the box, elbow-deep. Nuggets overflow onto the table and floor. “There should be a prize—”

“Looking for this?” Albus holds up a tiny plastic toy, his grin made all the more devious by two unruly black curls sprouting like devil horns from his temples. James, in his scramble to snatch his prize, knocks over a glass of juice.

Smoke now puffs out of the toaster.

Lily tosses cereal at Scorpius’ head. “Wake up, Scorpy! The toaster is on fire!”

Scorpius starts, jostling loose a cereal crumb caught in the blond cowlick tuft at his crown. He grabs Harry’s tea sat next to the hob and pours it over the appliance. Sparks spew from the slots, and with a loud pop, the toaster dies.

“Sorry,” he cringes.

“Bloody hell!” Lily exclaims.

From amidst wrestling arms and wild hair, James and Albus both yell, “Lily!”

Draco enters the kitchen then, polished and posh in his crisp oxford, looking fresh and un-harried. “Good morning, all,” he says, smiling brightly, morning prick that he is.

Harry takes the pan off the flame. “Five minutes to cook in peace,” he says, eye twitching. “Five fucking minutes!”

“Dad!”

Draco purses his lips, and with a sharp tug to his shirt sleeve and crook of his elbow, checks his watch. “If we leave in the next five minutes, I’ll buy you lot hot chocolate at Luna’s on the way to school.”

Albus tugs James’ forearm away from his mouth. “With marshmallows?”

“And whipped cream.”

Lily wiggles excitedly, blue eyes big and shining. Draco sets the egg timer ticking.

“Countdown starts now.”

The kids dash from the kitchen in a frenzied mass of skinny limbs, but not before Scorpius gives Harry and Draco quick hugs. From the head of the pack stomping up the stairs Lily exclaims, “I get to wear James’ new jumper!”

Blessed silence descends.

Draco plates the eggs and pours Harry another cup of tea. Harry goes to fetch the milk, only to realize the bottle is empty when he slams it into the inside top of the fridge. James.

“Bloody hell.”

“And we wonder where Lily gets it.” Draco opens the freezer and removes a carton of vanilla ice cream. “I’ve bought you five minutes,” he says, placing the carton on the table. “What say we put that filthy little mouth of yours to good use after I drop the kids at school?”

“Don’t you have that meeting—?”

Draco cards his fingers through Harry’s hair and leans to brush his lips on the shell of Harry’s ear. “I canceled it.”

“Fuck, I love you.”

“I know.” Draco fists Harry’s curls briefly, eliciting a cascade of promising thrills down Harry’s spine, before releasing him. “I’m leaving,” he calls out to the heathens, “in three… two…” He exits the kitchen with a parting wink.

Harry grins, and dipping a spoon into the ice cream, stirs a dollop into his tea.

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* * *

@onbeinganangel, Mari, your tags, YOUR TAGS...you inspired me, holy shitka!! For you and in honor of today, September 22, the first day of autumn, here's a wee ficlet, a teaser, a morsel, a smol Drarry nugglet as a prequel for my Thirteen Ficlets, soon coming! Big love, sweet!

And a very vanilla thank you to @vukovich for the beta. mwah!

Enjoy! xoxo peach 🍑

do you keep writing your otp cooking together as if it’s the most romantic and wholesome activity to make up for the fact that you have severe I Must Be Alone In The Kitchen At All Times Syndrome, yes or yes?