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stellar-skyy · 8 hours

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[ fake it til you make it ― childe ] "'cause i'm a real tough kid, i can handle my shit. they said, "babe, you gotta fake it til you make it" and i did." cw. gn!reader, angst, hurt/no comfort, idol!au, refers to him as ajax for most of the fic, petname (darling), light swearing, toxic workplace, reference to drowning, mentions an unhealthy relationship, post break-up, bottled up emotions (get some help), use of y/n, not proofread

aquamarine's findings. first work on a new blog & also the first of many ttpd songfics... this was way longer in my head, i struggled to put it into words… // i can do it with a broken heart, taylor swift.

since that god forsaken day, life had began to feel like tidal waves, far out at sea. rough, tormenting and pulling your body further and further under with each lap of foaming white waves until you were lost in the riptides, suffocating as water fills your lungs. no matter how much you held your breath every time you were pushed under again, you were beginning to tire; cold, shivering, limp. yet you would continue to hold your breath, bracing yourself for impact. the sky darkens and there's another wave approaching you, ready to shove you below the surface. your eyelashes flutter, accepting it - maybe this is where peace hit you, finally.

"y/n?"

your eyes snap open, quick to squint at the harsh white light of the room that welcomed you back to reality. oh, yeah. you were taking a bath after your schedule for the day, your limbs aching from the hours of practise and rehearsals you'd endured. slowly turning your head towards the bathroom door, you settle back into the world - what was left of it for you. it wasn't much, hollow and void of his presence as your eyes catch the bottle of his shower gel on the side of the tub that you simply couldn't bring yourself to get rid of. after all, it was evidence that the whole affair wasn't a figment of your imagination or some publicity stunt despite the fact you were definitely beginning to question if it was the latter in the end.

"yeah, sorry," you call out, barely above a mumble as you shuffle to sit up from the miniature waves of bath water that was licking at your cheeks like a cat. the sound of the water is all that fills the silence as it trickles and splashes around you, "i think i zoned out."

"you think?" the shrill voice of your manager retorts and you can almost picture her on the other side of the door, her bony hands on her hips hugged by a pencil skirt - she must own millions, - and tight up-do of a bun she keeps greying hair in daily, "y/n you've been in there two hours."

you bite back the urge to let the words 'is that all?' escape your chapped lips, choosing to wet at them with your tongue instead as you finally move stiff limbs to raise out of the bath, pulling the plug and wrapping the soft cotton towel around your shivering body. shivering like you're still keeping your head above water, barely able to breathe. tired eyes land on the sight of your reflection in the bathroom's vanity mirror, the dullness of your eyes standing out more than anything when you realise you'd long lost the sparkle in them when ajax had called off the relationship.

the longer you stare, the longer the person in the mirror doesn't seem like you; not the you you've always known nor the you you've built for the public eye, for the job you buried your youth in. you were an idol, claimed by the critics to be "born for the spotlight" but in reality, it couldn't make you any less than anxious than it already did. all those eyes on you, their whispers and their stares when your life - your business - becomes the hot topic of their dinner conversations, perhaps gossip over coffees and pastries.

at the end of the day, you were nothing but a person on the stage, the screen to them and the world would still keep on revolving.

━

it was a brief relationship but it meant the world to you. indulging yourself in an affair regarding fellow industry colleague ajax wasn't your brightest move but as the months mellowed out, summer's green grass turning into autumn's golden leaves, it turned into something you didn't regret. the word 'regret' feels bitter on your tongue now despite you still not regretting it but maybe, just maybe, you could have saved your fragile heart in advance. in the end, you learnt that when he said he'd 'love you with all his life,' it was a life cut too short.

ajax - commonly known to the public as 'childe' - was a rapper for an idol group from snezhnaya, one that particularly blew up on social media right now in a popularity burst across teyvat. you'd have few interactions here and there before the two of you reached out to each other on instagram - you learnt that you should have just ignored that dm request.

when you blink, you're back at his side backstage to one of his performances. he's mic'd up, stiff gel in those ginger locks and his freckles so rudely covered by a thin layer of foundation. there's a grin on his face as those icy blue eyes look down at you while a make-up artist brushes the faintest of lip tint onto those plush lips. there's no chance you're stealing a kiss now unless you want to be scolded by his staff team.

"lost in your thoughts again, darling?" he chirps teasingly, nudging you with his elbow. a weak smile filters onto your face as you nervously glance around the dressing room. was this really what you wanted in life? ajax's arm ropes around your waist, his grip tight as he has no intentions to let you go.

and he doesn't, at least he didn't have that intention at the time. every time his eyes landed on you, he saw something fragile, a porcelain dish held together by the kintsugi that was your job as an idol. something he could mould and he knew he could, he was determined. how was he so sure he could? because you'd do anything for survival, even if it means battering your happiness with a baseball bat.

that's exactly what ajax had done with you; moulded you, shaped you and made you co-dependent on him. it had only been a few mere months but you really couldn't live without him, even if it was damaging your job and reputation. he twined you in his fingers like putty, lacing you in and out of every knuckle as he held on tight to you - and then just as the high was starting to fade, he dropped you, shattering you on the ground in a heartbeat.

when you blink, you're staring at yourself in the mirror of your own dressing room and the echo of shattered fine china rings in your ears until your gaze slowly drifts to the staff member by the door, her shaking hands holding an empty tray and her panicked gaze on the broken plate on the ground. there's a furious expression on your manager's face and you brace for the impact that comes but there's nothing, not a word.

instead, the room returns to normality. faces blur as they scurry about and you furrow your brows, looking back at your reflection so that the stylist can continue to work with your hair - you know you're going to hate what he does regardless. your manager's heavy footsteps stop to your left, her arms folded across her chest as her hawk eyes narrow at your reflection. you imagine she's scrutinising every detail of your body and that only makes your heart beat faster.

"you need to move on from that rapper, y/n," she states bluntly after a few moments silence. your breath hitches in your throat, eyes refusing to look up and meet that piercing gaze, "it's affecting your work and the media are catching on."

"i know," you mumble shamefully, unable to find the words to fight back against her. your heart aches for him, wanting to fill the void he's left and to grasp why he did what he had. it wasn't something you'd ever just 'move on' from, "i'm sorry, i'll work on it."

"it doesn't need 'working' on, it needs to happen right fucking now. do you want to cancel this tour early?" her tone is bitter and there's finally a sting in your eyes despite not wanting to ruin your make-up artist's hard work, clearing your throat in a fragile response to her words, "you've got to start faking it. he's only going to hinder your progress if you don't."

"no, i don't. i'll move on, i promise."

━

lights blind you; the flashing of cameras and phones alike paired with the stage lights and accompanied by the cacophony of screams that come from your fans. a wide grin covers your face, eyes twinkling as you start the first song of your tour's setlist, holding a microphone in your shaking hand. perform, you tell yourself mentally. perform and they'll never be able to read what's going on in your head, they'd never understand if they got a glimpse into your world.

as the crowds scream for more, unharmoniously belting the lyrics along with you, you're glad that they don't notice how ajax has been avoiding you like the plague for weeks, negligent to the way that you are still utterly obsessed and infatuated with him. they don't notice from afar how crystalline tears decorate your eyes while you perform, centre of the stage and under the watchful eyes of the whole world, ready to criticise you if you break.

you're tough, the voice in your mind tells you with a slight waiver in its words as if it doesn't believe itself, you can handle your shit.

the archives' notifications. @bisexuawolfsalt, @lovingluxury, @auroratumbles, @ryuryuryuyurboat

#AHHHHH #AHDHSHHFJSKA #💞 — recs

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stellar-skyy · 1 day

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˗ˏˋ ꒰ 💌 ꒱ ˎˊ˗ to avery :

the love express has a delivery ! ! ! ! i hope you’re having a day as wonderful as you – remember to drink up & have a bite if you havent – take a moment to look up from your device and breathe ! ! ! i’m proud of you and for what you’re doing and i think you’re doing amazing :–D keep your head up & keep going ! ! ! ! it’s gonna be amazing bc you are !

sobbing.

#ying ily #you have no idea how much i needed this today #📬 — mailbox #💌 — letters from ying!

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stellar-skyy · 2 days

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actually crazy how i'm so close to 300 followers... i promise i will go back to working my 200 follower event soon, life hasn't been too kind on my schedule lately :(

#im really busy sorry guys #im trying my best!#but i dont have a lot of time to write and i kinda got burnt out with all my requests #i think #i might start doing them out of order #i kind of already was but i think it would be good for me to get some fresh ideas #AHHHHH okay #gonna try to write a bit before i go to bed #💬 — avie talks

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stellar-skyy · 3 days

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♡ - LOST & FOUND - Platonic Arlecchino & reader

i. SUMMARY: Hell hath no fury like a parent whose child has been taken from them. ii. CWS & NOTES: description of blood and injury (mildly graphic but not gory), violence, mentions of kidnapping, swearing (like once), implied murder. PLATONIC arlecchino & gn!reader. house of the hearth!reader. angst & slight hurt/comfort. 2.5k words. iv. A/N: i am... so normal about parental arlecchino... so normal... i hope you enjoy because i loved writing this!! i have a little written for an epilogue featuring the lyntwins + freminet reuniting, so stay tuned for that ♡

It had been fifty-eight hours, and twenty-seven minutes since [Name] had vanished.

Freminet sat curled up in a velvet armchair that dwarfed his small frame, with Pers on his lap and his brother and sister flanking each side. They had both refused Father’s offer of a seat, which showed the severity of the situation more than words ever could.

No one ever refused Father. Even she had raised an eyebrow at their sudden rebellion.

“Lyney, Lynette. Defiance will not make [Name] come home faster. Take a seat.” Father sipped her tea, poised as ever. Even with that impassive mask, Freminet still noticed the tension in her shoulders.

He always noticed.

“There’s no need,” Lyney said shortly, adding on a respectful “Father.” as an afterthought.

“What my brother means—” Lynette cut in smoothly. “—Is that we do not want to draw this conversation out any longer than necessary. We only came to get permission to postpone our current assignment and search for [Name]. I’m sure you can see the circumstances are dire enough to warrant such action.”

“I’m afraid I do not, Lynette.” Father placed her cup down and folded her hands over her lap. “They are a very skilled agent, and this mission was hardly out of their ability. No need to compromise your current—and very important, I might add—mission, for trivial matters.”

“It isn’t trivial, it’s our sibling!” Lyney burst out, causing Freminet to flinch. He reached out a hand blindly to settle on Freminet’s shoulder, squeezing it quickly in both a comfort and apology for startling him.

“I would be mindful of your place within this household, Lyney.” Father said mildly, the warning clear. “I have given you a direct order, and you will follow it. Do not stray from your assigned mission. [Name] will be fine.” She paused for a beat. “You are dismissed.”

“That’s it?” Lyney hissed. “So, you’re going to just leave them to die?”

It sounded like less of a question and more of an accusation. Freminet winced, feeling Lynette stiffen beside him as well as they waited for the consequences of Lyney’s bluntness.

Arlecchino rose from her seat, the tension in the air thick enough to choke all three of the siblings.

“I never said that. [Name] will be home in due time.” Her gaze shifted from the left to the right side of the armchair. “Lynette, you will have tea with me later, won’t you?” Father asked, causing the girl to freeze.

She bit her lip, answering carefully. “I may. Maybe if [Name] returns, we can all have tea together.”

“A good plan,” Father agreed, ignoring the quiet angry undertone of her words. “When I see them, I shall invite them.”

“It had better be soon; it’s getting late.” Lynette countered. Freminet’s eyes darted back and forth between the two of them. Lynette was always better at matching Father’s games. Freminet crumbled under the weight of her gaze, and Lyney wasn’t any better at handling the pressure without his emotions causing him to crack and splinter.

“Lynette, Freminet. Let’s go.” Lyney said sharply.

Throughout the entire exchange, Lyney’s hand had not moved from where it was planted firmly on Freminet’s shoulder, as if he was refusing to let another of his siblings out of his grasp. Freminet might have remarked that Lynette was handling her worry better, but he noticed how her tail kept curling around his leg when they walked into Father’s office. Neither of the three was willing to part with the others for even a second; not when one of their own had gone missing by doing just that.

As he drew back his hand and moved away, Freminet caught his arm.

“Just… a moment, please. Wait outside, I’ll join you soon.” Freminet murmured, letting go. Lyney pursed his lips.

“Be quick.”

The twins vanished through the doorway, leaving Freminet alone with his Father.

“Freminet dear. You’re hesitating.” Father raised an eyebrow. “Are you waiting for something? Do you want me to give Pers a kiss on the head before I leave?”

Freminet flushed at the memories of holding the toy up to Father when he was young, insisting the penguin deserved a proper goodbye too. “Ahem. I’m not a child anymore… Father.”

“No? Then why are you still here?”

He swallowed awkwardly, forcing himself to look her in the eyes. He met her stare

“I know you’re just as worried as I am.” He said bluntly.

Father’s expression was almost impossible to read, but Freminet managed to catch a hint of surprise at his words. “I see. How did you come to that conclusion?”

It wasn’t denial, nor was it defensiveness. That was a good sign. Freminet continued, “There is a pinch between your eyebrows that you keep trying to smooth over. You’re gripping your teacup much tighter than usual. Your shoulders are tense. And you were far too quick to dismiss the twins’ concerns. You of all people would know that the situation is severe enough to allow a brief pause to their investigation, but you were swift in making sure they were kept as far away from the situation as possible.”

Arlecchino stared back at Freminet silently. She always had that unsettling way of watching him, as if she was picking apart the cogs and wheels spinning in his mind to know exactly what he was thinking.

“Observant as always, Freminet.” Freminet stood up straighter, pink touching his cheeks. “So, tell me this: what am I to do next?”

“You’re… going to find them yourself?” He asked slowly.

“That is correct. I will be.” Father agreed, and something inside him swelled. If only Lyney was still in the room, he would have collapsed with relief. “And what will you be doing?”

“Helping.” Freminet said without a thought.

“Incorrect. You are going to return to your room, go to sleep, and not say a word to your siblings.”

“But—”

“No. You are not involved here.” Arlecchino turned her back on him, looking out the window with her arms folded behind her.

“Father—”

“Do not forget that if you or your sibling’s interference costs me my mission, [Name]’s blood will be on your hands.”

Freminet recoiled sharply, as if she had struck him across the face. Arlecchino refused to lay a hand on any of them, but her words were more than enough to wound them.

“I—”

“I’m not looking for an argument, Freminet.”

Freminet shut his mouth with a click, lowering his head. He forced back the wave of emotions sweeping across him, sinking them so far into the depths of his mind that not even a champion diver like himself would be able to reach them.

“I am looking for an answer.” Father raised an eyebrow.

“Yes, Father.” He said quietly.

“Good child,” She murmured, laying a gentle hand on the top of his head. “You are dismissed.”

-----

Arlecchino made her move at the stroke of sundown.

It was disgustingly easy to track them down, and the sheer incompetence only fuelled her rage until it burned brighter than the flames that curled beneath her skin. The assailants were sloppy, leaving plenty of traces for her to find, as if they were waiting for her to find them.

One of her agents had returned with a slip of paper that evening—a ransom note, crudely explaining that they had captured a House of the Hearth agent, and demanding a hefty sum in exchange for their safe return. She had chuckled at that last part. They would be lucky for her to leave them with their lives after what they have done, let alone a reward.

Their hideout was located in a quiet cave near the ocean, with an entrance half-hidden behind a curtain of vines. It was a quaint spot, a cosy place to sit back and watch the sun set over the water. She was sure the view behind her was breathtaking, but she made no move to take a glance for herself.

The vines made way for a long, narrow tunnel, ending with a wooden door. Arlecchino quietly turned the handle, scoffing under her breath when it turned without a key being inserted, and slipped through without making a single sound.

Six were scattered around the dingy room; one woman, five men. Seeming to be aged between their mid-twenties at the youngest, and early-forties at the oldest.

“Have we got a response yet?” The woman muttered impatiently, tapping her foot against the floor.

“How should I know?” One of the men grunted. “We left the note. Eventually it’s gotta make it’s way to the boss herself, and we’ll get the reward.”

“Just gotta be patient,” Another murmured. “Gotta be patient.”

Slightly past them was a wooden cage, secured with a metal lock.

They were in a heap on the floor of the cage, breathing weakly—Arlecchino quietly thanked the Tsaritsa that they were breathing at all—and looked to be passed out.

The fire inside her sang, and she could hardly breathe under the heat of it all.

“How long is this woman gonna take?” The woman rolled her eyes. “I’m tired of waiting.”

Arlecchino chuckled, causing all of the six to jump. “Oh, then allow me to assure you that you won’t have to wait much longer at all.”

Instantly they were on their feet, grabbing whatever weapon was closest. Their expressions ranged from outright fear, to an egregious amount of confidence for how weak they were in comparison to her.

“Knave,” the closest man grinned crookedly. “How kind of you to join us. I’m assuming you’re here for—” he jerked his head towards the figure still unmoving. “—that one?”

“‘That one’?” Arlecchino repeated slowly, drawing her scythe to her side. “I am here for my child.”

Two of the men—the ones closest to the cage—looked at each other nervously. Arlecchino smiled. It was a pity the rest of the group didn’t share the sense to fear her, but they would learn soon enough.

“Well you see, we’ll be happy to hand them over—” the man’s grin widened. “For a price, of course.”

“A price, you say?” She mused. “How about this. You step aside, I retrieve my child, and offer you a quick death. I would say that is more than fair, considering what you have cost me.”

The smile dropped off the man’s face. “That ain’t an option, lady.”

“Then I think you misunderstand.” She took a step towards him, then another, eyes glinting dangerously in the low light. “I wasn’t asking.”

“Boss—” one of the men tried to say.

“Shut it.” the first man hissed, bringing his shovel up in a defensive position. It was almost laughable, how he thought that would protect him.

“You made four mistakes tonight,” Arlecchino said smoothly. The tip of her scythe brushed the floor, sending a loud scraping sound across the walls. All of the people inside the room winced at the sound, but Arlecchino was unfazed as she continued prowling towards them.

“One… you failed to cover your tracks, making it remarkably easy to track you down.” In one swift motion, she lunged. The group barely had time to blink, before her scythe sliced across the chest of the closest one.

There was silence, before the man made a low gasp, bright crimson blood spilling down his shirt. He collapsed forward onto the ground with a thud, and the room erupted into chaos. A scream tore from the throat of the woman, and she dropped to her knees at his side, desperately clutching his shoulders. Arlecchino aimed a quick strike at her back, and she fell against the man heavily.

“Two, you left the door unlocked.” A pair charged towards her, hammers and shovels swinging. She knocked the weapons from their hands with one hit, and knocked them down with a second.

“Three—” One snuck up from behind, quickly tossing a string of rope over her head and around her neck, pulling harshly to cut off her breathing. An elbow in his ribs winded him enough to loosen his grip, and a knock to the head with the hilt of her scythe sent him to the floor. “You brought far too few people to last in a fight against me.”

The final man stumbled backwards until he hit the wall, shrinking against the bricks. Arlecchino walked with slow steps, stalking towards him like an animal cornering their pray. He shielded his face with his hands, in a desperate attempt to protect himself. Once she was about a foot away, she stopped, leaning in close.

“And four.” Arlecchino grasped the man by the throat, digging her nails into his skin hard enough to draw blood. “You hurt my fucking child.”

She tossed his body to the side, watching him hit the wall with a thud and collapse to the ground like a ragdoll.

“Pathetic.” She scoffed under her breath, stepping over his limp body. Her anger wasn’t nearly quelled—an inferno is not easily cooled, after all—but seeing them all lying lifelessly across the floor of their own base at least brought some vindication. She turned her back to the man, looking over at her child.

They were curled up in the cage like a trapped animal, rattling breaths ringing through the bars. Arlecchino gritted her teeth at the sight, making sure to step on the nearest captor’s fingers as she walked over. She swung her scythe against the lock, shattering it into bits of metal.

Her hands were gentle in reaching into the cage, hooking a hand under their knees and cradling their back with the other. They made a pained cry, and Arlecchino hurried to pull them out. She held them close to her chest, letting their cheek rest where her heartbeat pounded against her chest. Her face didn’t falter from that stony expression, but inside she was burning with fury.

“My child,” She murmured, more to herself than the shivering form in her arms. There was something dangerous in her tone, a note of warning to the assailants still conscious enough to hear her voice. She kissed their forehead, a tender gesture out of place among the bloodshed. “Didn’t I promise you that while you’re with me, no one can hurt you?”

“F-Father…?” A broken whisper slipped through their lips, followed by a sob, first sinking Arlecchino’s heart then shattering it into two.

“Shh… it’s okay. It’s okay, darling, I’m here.” She crooned, carrying them out of the room and through the tunnel. All throughout the journey through the tunnel and back onto the beach, she didn’t stop murmuring comforts and pressing kisses to their head in the most maternal way she’d ever remembered acting.

“I’m sorry, Father…” they mumbled, cheek pressed against her chest.

“Darling…” Arlecchino hummed, even as the smouldering ashes in her chest began to spark and flicker. “You have nothing to apologise for.”

The night was cold, but her child was a warm weight in her arms. She revelled in the warmth, a gentle reminder that they were still alive.

“We’ll be home soon,” Arlecchino promised, even though they were barely conscious enough to hear her. “Soon.”

reblogs are appreciated ♡

#📌 — icymi

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stellar-skyy · 4 days