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musings-of-miss-j · 1 month

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no rest for the wicked (nor the foolish)

part seven: in which the obscenely wealthy resident makes himself a permanent fixture to your list of problems, even after you find comfort in the normality of Snezhnaya's city (and its firewater)

a harbingers x gn reader series!! (includes dottore, childe, arlecchino and pantalone x reader. the rest of the harbingers will most likely not be romantic interests)

notes: cuz i set fire to the rain but rain won't fucking catch fire fuck's sake (slowburn), gn neutral sarcastic legend sick of ppl's bs reader, slightly suggestive

series masterlist

author's notes: *throws this chapter at u like its crumbs and ur pigeons on the pavement*

reblog the crumbs my pigeons <3

word count: 5134 words

* ੈ✩‧₊˚* ੈ✩‧₊˚* ੈ✩‧₊˚* ੈ✩‧₊˚* ੈ✩‧₊˚** ੈ✩‧₊˚* ੈ✩‧₊˚* ੈ✩‧₊˚* ੈ✩‧₊˚* ੈ✩‧₊˚** ੈ✩‧₊˚*

Snezhnaya was so cold. Bitingly, piercingly, mercilessly cold. But the city was warmer, more welcoming. Despite the icy wasteland surrounding it, the rows of shops and frosted-over streetlights boasted an almost friendly atmosphere, tinny music trickling through the cracks of some of the doors and stalls advertising ‘the greatest hot chocolate ever sold!’. Childe took hold of your hand under the guise of not wanting to lose you when you passed through a particularly busy street, but neglected to let go even after the crowd dispersed. You let him, and dragged him into a cosy bookstore piled high with well-loved stories. He insisted on carrying every book you chose while you browsed, following you through the shelves with hardcovers piled high in his arms, leading the owner of the shop to shoot the two of you a knowing glance you didn’t particularly like. A clothes shop nestled into a corner also caught your eye, and after a pleasant half hour of perusing the finest selection of furs and suits and dresses you’d ever seen you left with a brand new cloak to replace your lost one, black with silver clasps and a fur trim that would have been expensive enough to haunt you for a week or so, if Childe hadn’t sneakily paid for it the moment you picked it up. He led you to the city’s landmarks; the frozen fountains and an ice rink you refused to step onto, and you even let him drag you into a tavern.

“Eleven, please. I’m far from a good drinking partner.” Your protest sounded weak even to your own ears; you were quite curious to try the infamous Snezhnayan firewater, and the tavern was wonderfully warm.

“Don’t shoot it ‘til you’ve tried it,” he cheerfully replied, pulling you through the door by your joined hands and steering you towards a table near the window. The place was rowdier than you’d expected; a bard sang and danced on a tabletop, strumming a ukulele while the clattering of coins hitting the surface melded with the people’s laughter and clapping hands. You were reminded of the irresponsible, green-clad bard from Mondstadt who’d avoided you at every turn yet shone onstage. Before you knew it, you were laughing and knocking back a drink yourself, leaning back in your seat and letting your voice join the cheers and chatter. Childe marvelled at how much more relaxed you were outside of the palace, the tenseness in your shoulders gone and the sceptical furrow between your brows softened, one arm hooked around the back of your chair while you swirled your drink with the other hand.

“Say, Eleven,” you half-yelled to be heard over the ruckus. “What possessed you to join this Archons-forsaken association?”

“Quickest way to become a better fighter.”

You laughed under your breath, downing the rest of your drink. No more for you tonight, that was certain; pleasantly tipsy was one thing but you were far from keen on being flat-out drunk.

“Is that so?” You quipped back, appraising him thoughtfully. “You know, Eleven, I’ve heard some gut-churning things about you,” you mused, leaning forward to rest your elbows on the table. “That you’re a bloodthirsty maniac. A murderous villain. That your only home is the battlefield.”

His breath caught in his throat. Here you were, tearing out any last semblances of goodness he still thought he had and laying them before him, tattered and bleeding. And you did it all with that small, thoughtful smile. The ambience of the tavern flickered like a faulty speaker, his ears filling with anxious static.

“I think you’re more than half-decent, though.” Alcohol certainly loosened tongues. The cacophony of the bar came rushing back.

You stacked a few coins on the table to pay for your drink, heedless of the relief coursing through his veins like the most potent drug. You knew. He didn’t know how, but you knew about the savagery lurking so near to the surface of the charm that had once come so naturally to him but now took an effort to maintain, and you didn’t hate him for it. More than half-decent. You might as well have called him a prince. He felt giddy, drunk on your praise.

Breaking out of his trance, he firmly pushed your mora back in your direction and paid for the drinks himself despite your objections. You bickered over the matter the entire trek back to the palace, settling into the easy familiarity of squabbling back and forth with him. He accompanied you to the dining hall, too, claiming he had nothing to do at all even though Pierro was getting impatient at the lack of progress he’d made on tracking the Geo Gnosis; after all, what significance did godhood hold compared to you and the divine splendour of your laughter?

You found Arlie idling just outside. Preposterous, that she’d be reduced to dawdling around in hopes to see you, but there she was nonetheless, with the last plate of your favourite dessert that she’d snagged before a poor recruit could get his hands on it to boot. All damning evidence of her budding affection. Pleasantly surprised to see her, you made to introduce her to Childe.

“Oh, Arlie! I didn’t expect to see you today.”

She and Childe’s gazes met over the top of your head, the latter stupefied at seeing one of the most high-ranking Harbingers being referred to so casually, and by you, upholder of titles, no less, while the former shot him a formidable glare that warned him to hold his tongue lest she rip it out for him. She nodded shortly at your introduction.

“Childe and I are familiar.”

You hummed and pursed your lips. Surely this was ample confirmation that she was a Harbinger.

“Lovely, we’re all friends here then,” you said with just a touch of sardonic humour. “Why don’t we take lunch together?” You suggested, mostly as a way to further observe their dynamic and gather more evidence to support your theory. Arlie handed you the plate without ceremony.

“I’ve already had lunch, but I’d be happy to accompany you.” Even if she found Childe exuberantly foolish.

“I could eat,” Childe seconded, slinging an arm around your shoulders, not missing the way you beamed at her little gift.

Thus you found yourself seated under a gazebo in the palace gardens, pointedly ignoring the strained tension between your two companions while you admired the snow you’d once lamented and contentedly ate the berries from your pavlova. What a funny situation. You weren’t quite sure how you’d ended up befriending two higher-ups from a supposedly dangerous organisation and willingly spending time in their company over a plate of such exquisite dessert, but you supposed life had a way of being funny like that.

“Do enlighten me as to how the two of you know each other,” you said, waving your spoon vaguely. They let an ear-splitting silence fall, tense and rigid. You pointedly ignored the on-edge atmosphere, taking another bite of your pavlova.

“Well?” You prompted.

Childe clenched his teeth momentarily. “We were assigned on the same mission this reconnaissance cycle.” Arlie offered a non-committal hum of agreement.

“Interesting. And why is it that you seem on the verge of lunging at each other with the intent of causing as much bodily harm as possible?” You asked in a deceptively innocent tone. Childe wished you weren’t so clever sometimes, while Arlie turned her head away to hide her smile.

“Enough about us,” she interjected, leaning forward slightly to adjust the insignia you had pinned to the shoulder of your new cloak. “Tell me how you liked the city.”

“Snezhnayan firewater certainly lives up to its reputation for being extremely potent,” you replied with a shrug, setting aside your empty plate. “And Lord Eleven has similarly scandalous reputation outside the palace,” you added slyly, just to push his buttons. A bit of payback for not telling the truth about how he knew Arlie.

He choked on air. “What?”

Arlie raised an eyebrow. “What, indeed. Care to explain, Childe?”

“Not really,” he responded airily, tugging at his collar and clearing his throat. One advantage of Arlecchino being disguised like this was that he could somewhat safely dodge her authority under the guise of protecting her alibi.

Childe was saved from describing the reason for his less-than-ideal reputation when a young recruit, barely eighteen from the looks of it, came marching hurriedly towards you. Apparently the Director of the Harbingers himself was requesting Childe’s presence, and he left with more than a little reluctance and a wave goodbye. Arlie watched him rush off and allowed herself a moment’s satisfaction at the timely intervention. You touched her shoulder to catch her attention again, a small leather box in hand.

“I bought you something from the city,” you said, offering it to her. She stared at it in silence for so long you feared you might have offended her, when really her mind was spinning with the implications of you buying her a gift.

You swallowed nervously. She still hadn’t accepted the gift from your outstretched hand, staring blankly at the little box.

“Do you not want it?”

“I do,” she all but snapped, finally taking it. “I was… surprised, is all.”

A four-leafed brooch lay inside, gleaming black metal inlaid with red gemstones that glittered as they caught the light.

Her silence left you a little nervous, and you found yourself rambling uncharacteristically to fill it. “The merchant was adamant that it’s crafted entirely from the finest silver, but I didn’t test it in the lab yet. But I can confirm that the jewels have a purity of at least seventy five percent, and it’ll fetch a handsome bit of mora if you choose to sell it”-

“Thank you. It’s…” Stunning? Lovely? Beautiful? Arlecchino was truly at a loss for words, and fought not to stare at you. What a warming thought, that you’d spotted a little trinket and your mind had conjured her as a recipient for a gift. How lovely, to think that she occupied your thoughts enough to become a regular visitor. “It’s exceptionally well-made.”

You beamed. “I’m glad to hear that. You seem to prefer black and white clothing, I think the red will serve as a striking contrast.”

“Indeed,” she agreed mechanically, offering you the barest hint of a smile. You could tell her the sun rose in the west and paper was inflammable and she’d probably agree at that moment. A part of her despised how much power that gave you. You took out your pocket watch.

“Ah, perhaps we should go back inside,” you suggested, rising from the bench and brushing away the layer of snow on your shoulders. “According to my observations, the temperature drops quite rapidly at around this time, and I have a few letters to write.”

Arlie quickly excused herself once inside the palace (to ruminate alone over her gift), leaving you to take a pile of your best parchment and a pot of your smoothest, most pigmented ink to the Regrator’s library. It took a moment of fumbling with your stationery to kneel and get the door open, but the sight within was as rewarding as it had been the last time you stumbled upon the place; bathed in the late afternoon’s pale golden light, the fire crackling merrily and glinting off the silver etched into the bookshelves, chairs comfortable and inviting. You gladly dropped into one of them, sighing contentedly as the plush leather enveloped you, and began penning addresses onto envelopes with magnificent blue and purple quill you’d received from your friends as a graduation gift. You still didn’t know where such a large, vibrantly coloured feather could have come from.

Sumeru – Sumeru City – The Akademiya – Scribe Alhaitham

Mondstadt – Mondstadt City – Mona Megistus

Inazuma – Watatsumi Island – Sangonomiya Kokomi

Liyue – Wangsheng Funeral Parlour – Director Hu Tao

Fontaine – Opera Epiclese – Duellist Clorinde

With some reluctance, you also marked an envelope Inazuma, Narukami Shrine for Yae Miko. The contract you’d signed all those years ago to provide her publishing house with what she called ‘light novels’ would never end.

How far-flung your friends seemed, scattered throughout Teyvat with seemingly no rhyme or reason. Maybe you’d take to travelling again once your diploma was finished, a vacation of sorts to see everyone … You filed that thought away for later contemplation.

For a while, the only sounds in the library were the scratching of your quill on parchment, the slight rattling of the stained glass windows as the late afternoon breeze whooshed by and… faint talking? You frowned slightly, glancing up from your writing. Two voices, vaguely familiar and gradually rising in volume; an argument, then. How irritating. You ignored it for as long as you could, until the shouting was clearly decipherable and loud enough to make your quill pause every few sentences to rearrange your thoughts (you and Lisa’s correspondence was mainly in the form of original poetry, and the distraction was making it even more difficult to find a rhyme for ‘Harbinger’.) The noise grew unbearable, and with an aggravated huff you left your things laying on the armchair to ascertain the source and perhaps ask them to quiet down.

Honestly. People’s utter disregard for a library’s rules is intolerable.

After spending some time weaving through the towering bookshelves and past iced-over windows, angry voices growing louder and louder, you finally located the culprits.

It seemed you wouldn’t be asking anyone to quiet down, considering the argument was between Signora and the Regrator. Just your luck, really. Resigned to sealing the envelopes and finalising the calculations of your lab report back at the dorm, you turned to leave only for them to fall silent.

“(Name?)”

You cursed under your breath and pivoted on your heel to face the mortifying situation you’d found yourself in.

“My lord, my lady,” you managed after a strained moment of trying to collect yourself. “I heard shouting”- Signora and the Regrator shot each other a heated glare- “and thought it might be wise to investigate.” You conveniently left out the part where you’d gotten so riled up that you were quite prepared to admonish whoever it was. They didn’t need to know that.

“Nothing to worry about,” the Regrator assured smoothly, brushing invisible dust off his shoulders. He wore velvet today, supple and sophisticated, while Signora sported a lavish fur collar that she angrily swept back around her neck. You had to admit her elegance indisputably came naturally to her; even with her face twisted into a frown and no one to impress, she still radiated an effortless air of refinement and superiority.

The Regrator was different. Those endless eyes, that deliberate half-smile, his tasteful-bordering on-excessive attire, the guarded disposition… all of it hinted at a man who’d started low and clawed his way to the top. You were willing to bet he still had the blood under his fingernails to prove it, and wondered if it haunted him at all. There wasn’t any hint of remorse in his polished smile or fathomless eyes. An apprehensive shiver ran up your spine, and you averted your gaze.

“If you’ll excuse me”-

“No, no. Sit down, little one, we could use a mediator,” Signora cut in, gesturing towards an empty chair with a tilt of her head, never once breaking the intense glare she pointed at the Regrator. You sighed, thinking of your yet-to-be-delivered letters and the lab report that still needed writing.

“As much as I’d love to act as the referee for your dispute”- the Regrator had to suppress a genuine laugh at your carefully derisive wording, while Signora let an imperceptible, fond smile take over her face- “I’m afraid I have some rather urgent matters to attend to.”

“Surely not so urgent that you’d risk upsetting us?”

How he managed to sound so innocent yet sly was beyond you. The mischievous slant of his lips betrayed the true intention behind his deceptively benign tone; to embarrass its recipient for his own entertainment. Not to mention how breaching etiquette felt akin to throwing yourself to the sharks when it came to him. Something about the Regrator exuded propriety and demanded a similar demeanour to be maintained, unlike the rest of the Harbingers around whom a certain degree of sarcasm could safely be upheld; Childe could even be described as friendly, and despite the Doctor’s terrible reputation and a justifiable ego thanks to his unparalleled intellect your mutual inclination towards scientific progress made him more approachable, while Signora had yet to berate you for any lapse in politeness, instead regarding you with a sharp smile and an air of superiority that made it quite clear to you that she found you funny. Demeaning, really.

Still, your current problem was how to escape the cage of social obligation Regrator had managed to weave.

“I’m afraid so, Lord Regrator,” you confirmed drily, offering him and Signora a shallow bow. “Here’s to hoping your dispute comes to a swift and satisfying end.”

You moved to leave, gladdened by your evidently inoffensive departure. He couldn’t have that, of course; you’d caught his interest and he’d decided to indulge in his curiosity.

“Allow me to join you,” he proposed, falling into step next to you. Signora let out a very audible tsk. You couldn’t help but agree with her.

“I really don’t think that’ll be necessary”-

“Many of the best things in life aren’t,” he responded, guiding you towards the door with a hand on your back. Annoyed by him trying to steer you, you sped up and went to collect the letters; the Regrator, undeterred by how you’d shrugged away his touch, took the stack of envelopes from you. Wary of accepting any help from a Harbinger, you attempted to retrieve them with an array of pleasantries such as ‘there’s really no need, I can carry them myself’ and ‘you’re really too kind’.

To no avail; in the end, he even managed to nick your satchel right off your shoulder and carry it the entire way back to your dorm, much to your embarrassment. You supposed it was only polite to invite him inside, not that you’d expected him to graciously accept your invitation and make himself comfortable in the armchair across the fireplace. You didn’t miss the way his fingers traced the patches of embroidery you’d painstakingly made along the seams, rows of tiny colourful flowers stitched for the purpose of improving your dexterity before a particularly finicky experiment and maybe even to leave a mark of your stay here; the fact he’d noticed them at all indicated an impressive attention to detail that made you wonder what else might stand out to him about your living space. Perhaps he found your accommodations excessively modest. The thought amused you no end; a rich boy out of his depth would never not be funny, after all. He seemed utterly at ease, though, content to watch you shed your new cloak and pick out leaves and cups for tea without any conversation, those dark eyes following your every move.

“You’re staring quite intently, my lord,” you remarked, handing him a cup of tea and wrapping your gloved fingers around your own.

“Beauty should be appreciated, no?”

You laughed under your breath, hoping you weren’t blushing at such a clichéd line. “I suppose I walked into that one,” you conceded, resting your weight against the edge of your desk and wondering how best to broach the topic of why he accepted your invitation to come inside. He smiled and lifted the teacup to his lips, as if aware of your internal dilemma. You cursed every aspect of his polished personality for making you feel like you had to be especially polite.

“Is the tea to your liking?”

“Delectable,” he assured. That vexing half-smile on his face was starting to get on your nerves; it was as though he was contemplating something awfully hilarious about your countenance that you weren’t aware of.

You offered him a nod of acknowledgement, turning to sort through the pages upon pages of calculations you’d made for your next experiment. It pertained to the various elemental crystals that apparently gave Vision holders extra power; a relatively recent discovery you’d made in your last year at the Akademiya and one you were quite proud of. It still needed further testing before you could guarantee the benefits of using them and how to do so, but the theoretical efficiency you’d calculated was very high at a whopping ninety-four point seven per cent. You really were quite proud of this potential breakthrough, and were excited to share it with the Doctor, someone who’d appreciate the complexities of an experiment even before it came to fruition. Maybe you’d gift Childe a gemstone of the Varunada Lazurite variety after the testing stage was concluded, since he was so incessantly obsessed with improving his combat prowess. You doubted Arlie’s illusionary magic would benefit from such a crystal, though. It didn’t quite shock you as much as it should’ve that you were so casually thinking of gifting a Harbinger something, as though you were friends. Perhaps you did consider them friends. Your brows furrowed infinitesimally. How bizarre.

The Regrator interrupted your musings with a slight laugh.

“I must know what’s on your mind to have such a puzzled expression cross your face.”

Embarrassed by his scrutiny, you cleared your throat and neatly stacked your paperwork into the wooden case to avoid looking at those eyes.

“Nothing at all,” you insisted. “Just my research.”

It was becoming a familiar lie.

“Well then, do enlighten me,” he said, peering up at you over his glasses. You paused in the act of rewriting a horribly complex chemical equation with the correct stoichiometric ratios. You couldn’t believeyou’d made such a foolish mistake, and you grimaced at the thought of the ridicule you would’ve no doubt received from the Doctor if you ended up submitting it.

“I doubt it’ll be of much interest to you, my lord.”

“I suspect I may surprise you yet,” he replied, gazing up at you expectantly.

You drummed your fingers against the wooden surface of your desk, deep in thought. From your perspective, common sense dictated that you should not under any circumstances share the details of your research lest someone apply for a patent of the invention before you, and thus take all the credit for the discovery. You suppressed a shudder of revulsion at the thought. No, the Regrator was not to be trusted with the minutiae of your research.

Celestia’s sake, he’s a banker. He’s not to be trusted, period!

You turned to face him, the beginnings of an idea just barely discernible in the quirk of your brows, the smile on your lips that was a little too devious to be written off as merely polite.

“Why not enlighten me with details about your work instead?”

You sly little trickster.

He surveyed you with a half-smile not unlike the one on your own face, impressed by your deflection.

“Hm. Seems we’ve hit an impasse,” he remarked, crossing one leg over the other and leaning back in the armchair, the picture of immovable and infuriatingly self-assured calm. A side effect of being rich, you supposed, watching him get comfortable with mental sigh. You’d hoped he’d be on his way soon; evidently that would not be the case. “We’re both unwilling to part with the secrets of our trade.”

“Yes, quite,” you agreed with a laugh you couldn’t suppress. It was amusing to think that the Regrator, a man who obviously dealt in meticulously worded phrases with a penchant for hiding his true intentions behind walls of elegance, was being forced to get straight to the point with no purposeful stalling whatsoever. Because of you, no less. Oddly enough, he found himself not quite as incensed as he would’ve expected at being the subject of your hilarity. Perhaps that had something to do with how agreeable mirth looked on you, softening the ever-present suspicion even if only for a moment.

What an interesting little thing you were turning out to be.

He watched as your eyes began to wander in the silence that followed, first to your window and the glowing flowers sprouting from the cracks around it, then to the fire in the hearth where it lingered for a little longer, along the walls, tracing the silver lines engraved on them, before finally resting on his hand. He wondered which of his many rings you were so fixated on.

“Perhaps we should both retire for the night, my lord,” you suggested, tearing your gaze away from the diamond ring you were still quite interested in testing. He raised his eyebrows, his smile turning devious.

“What, together? I didn’t think you were so forward, (Name.)”

You almost wished his insinuation was lost on you. It wasn’t, tragically, and you had to contend with the mortifying ordeal of flushing crimson and briefly debating on whether to say the first thing that came to mind, if nothing else to rile him up as much as he did you (‘Well, I wouldn’t oppose to the idea unless you did.’)

Damned banker and his damned dirty mind…

His fingers were still running over your little garden of embroidered flowers, eyes crinkling ever so slightly at the corners from the wideness of his smile. Abandoning any semblance of courtesy, you opened the door and gestured pointedly at him to leave. Your fear of the Harbingers seemed inconsequential compared to the sheer magnitude of the frustration they caused you. You could only maintain a façade of perfect grace for so long, after all.

“With all due respect, my lord”- (how wonderful you sounded without anything to filter your opinion of him in that moment. Even if said opinion was decidedly negative) – “I’d like you to leave. You’re disturbing me. And there’s a cursed redox apparatus I need to wake up at an ungodly hour to check on.” You muttered the last part testily under your breath, dragging a hand down your face and lamenting the fact you hadn’t waited until later to set it up.

“Come, now. Surely you won’t just kick me out like this?” Regrator implored, sounding more relaxed than upset. “The night is young. Let us at least have a proper conversation.”

How you longed to understand why he insisted on pestering you. Surely he had better things to do. Although, you mused to yourself as you openly sized him up, maybe he’ll leave if I talk to him. Just for a while.

“What would you have us speak of?” You asked wryly, folding your legs to perch cross-legged on your desk chair. “It doesn’t seem likely that we’ll find a shared topic of interest.”

“Why ever not?” He returned, raising his eyebrows. “Do you have such a negative impression of me that you think I can’t keep up with you in conversation?”

“Of course not. I never implied that, my lord.”

He laughed at your swift denial. Clearly you were still apprehensive of his status as a Harbinger, not that he blamed you.

“I hear you’ve received an invitation to the annual gala.”

Your face contorted at the reminder, brows drawing inwards and a frown tugging your lips further away from a smile as your jaw tensed.

“Ah, yes. I’d almost forgotten about that. Lady Eight was so kind as to invite me.” Your real meaning was clear despite the unwavering civility of your words: Lady Eight could very well eat her left shoe. Beautiful women can really get away with anything, you mused to yourself.

“Yet you seem less than overjoyed by the situation,” he remarked, sliding one of his rings up and down his finger as he watched you.

With a sigh, you rested your elbows on your knees and your chin in your hands, proper posture be damned to the lowest ring of hell. “It’s just not my scene, I suppose.”

“Uncomfortable with large crowds of people?”

You scowled at the floor in response to his mocking tone. “Displeased by the public’s general idiocy, more like,” you muttered under your breath, hating the Regrator just a little more for coaxing you into revealing your weakness then taunting you for it.

The Regrator was beginning to think that he enjoyed your scorn even more than your artificial flattery. He’d be hard-pressed to think of a more artful way ridicule his opponent in a verbal altercation without being too direct and ruining the element of subtlety he so valued.

“But you’ll still be attending, no?”

“Unless divine intervention occurs for the first time in this century, yes, I will.”

“Good, good,” he all but purred, relaxing even further back in the armchair. You glowered at the floor. Your armchair. That he was sitting in. He effectively snapped you out of your trance of gradually building wrath with his next question.

“Would you do me the honour of a dance, when the gala does roll around?”

It took a moment of unconvinced staring for you to realise that he was, in fact, being serious.

“If you insist, my lord.” You were confident in your ability to sneak off and prevent such a thing from ever happening, in the unlikely scenario that he even remembered. He smiled entirely too cunningly for your liking, as though he knew exactly what you were planning. You shook off the feeling, rising to your feet when he did the same and throwing a mental celebration when he made his way to the door.

“Let’s not make this our last conversation,” were his parting words before he left. You consoled yourself with the fact that speaking to the Regrator was intellectually stimulating if nothing else, what with having to constantly dodge his questions and avoid offending him too much while making sure your own pride didn’t end up bruised. A raven warbled outside your window, and you cracked the window open despite the sigh of frigid air that sneaked its way into the room to feed it.

“Hello there, pretty,” you murmured, scattering an array of seeds and nuts across the windowsill and watching as the raven, one of the flock you’d so tenuously befriended, hopped across the stone and pecked at your offerings. You hadn’t expected them to be so open to human interaction, but the ravens were quite comfortable with waking you at dawn with their incessant squawking and arriving at your window in a flurry of black feathers to demand more food. You liked them, with all their melancholy glory and sharp little eyes and the symbolism of death they were so often associated with. There were worse visitors clad in ebony to have, you decided, an image of the Regrator appearing in your mind’s eye.

* ੈ✩‧₊˚* ੈ✩‧₊˚* ੈ✩‧₊˚* ੈ✩‧₊˚* ੈ✩‧₊˚** ੈ✩‧₊˚* ੈ✩‧₊˚* ੈ✩‧₊˚* ੈ✩‧₊˚* ੈ✩‧₊˚** ੈ✩‧₊˚*

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thequietkid-moonie · 10 months

Note

I have a request! If i can

Qin shi huang and hades ( if you can do both not separate ) with the most sweet and kind reader. Who is basically an angel and just them fighting over her.

Thats all! Thank you if you can do the request if you cant thats okay! I love your works aswell 🩷 have a nice day

In love with the same sweet and kind person

[ HEADCANONS ] [ Hades & Qin Shin Huang ] [ Records of Ragnarok / Shuumatsu no Valkyrie ]

I love when ppl tell me that they love my work! Is super reasuring and make me feel better!! ❤️ Thank u!!

Also, I love the prompts where is two characters in love with the same person, so thank you so much for requesting this!!!

Qin Shin Huang and Hades get along rather well, Qin remember Hades to his beloved brother and after a while he just start to platonically like him, while Qin since the start had treat him rather friendly and grows to admire him as a person, both grows to have a good friendship

For non of them matter if you are a god or a human, not even if you are a demigod or another kind of creature, Hades doesn't discriminate for the race and he just treat you as a equal while Qin just isn't bothered by it and just treat you like anyone else (and once you become his friend he is even more friendly and trust in you a lot)

Both of them tries to spend a lot of time with you, Hades likes your company and enjoys having you around even before developing romantic feelings, while Qin is more clingy, he is prideful and loves having little adventures so he is always draging you around to whatever he is planning to do

For both of them to develop romantic feelings for you is a slowly process but when it happens is actually pretty quickly for them to notice it

Hades is a mature and calm person, he knows himself pretty well so he almost immediatly notice the change on his feelings for you, and just like that he accept them complety with a smile. Hades will take a while before start trying to court you, being a slow start because he doesn't want to make you uncomfortable or rush things

In the other hand, Qin is more carefree and kinda childish but that doesn't stop him from noticing the growing feelings of love he holds for you, it take him a little while but when he does he accept it right away, he thinks you are amazing so it isn't weird to think that he is in love with you. Qin becomes pretty open with his feelings, he becomes a little more clingy and affectionate, is pretty obvious that he is interested on you but he never accept it if someone asks

Your sweet and kind personality makes Hades feel at peace, it makes him feel like nothing else in the world exist aside from the two of you when you two are together, and is something that he loves, Hades feels like if with every day it pass he just admire you and falls in love with you more and more

Qin loves your personality, your kindness brights his day and your sweetness make him feel the need to protect you from anything and everything, also it make him being more playfuly, he just can't get his hands out of you (like holding your hands, resting his hand in your back so you don't fall or even carrying you around if you let him) and he doesn't seem to be able to leave you alone neither, he just loves being around you a lot

It won't take much time before both find out the feelings of the other, Hades is the first one to notice for how obvious Qin is, and won't doubt in confront him, calling him irresponsable and irritating for how clingy he is and when Qin notice Hades' feelings he tease him about it, but even if it doesn't seem like much there it start a little war between them

Both are constantly having arguments over it, mainly just when one of them are monopolizing you and being possessive, Hades calls Qin an irresponsable and sometimes a danger for you, while Qin call him boring and overwhelming with all his worries. However they never fight in front of you, they don't want to upset you or anything

Sometimes they opt to spend time the three together and they get along pretty well, the two of them were already friends so it isn't too difficult to let aside the fights for a while and just enjoy each other company

Both of them are man of honor and knows when they lose, if you ever choose one of them the other will totally understand and respect your relationship, but that isn't going to happen until they end with all the ways they have to try to court you or that you directly tell them that you love one of them (non of them will ever force their feelings onto you, but Qin is more probably to insist a little longer). As well, non of them will let this afect your friendship and will continue being your friend (of both)

If you end up being in a relationship with someone else it would be pretty irritating for both of them but at the end they will be supportive towards you (to Hades will be easier to accept it than for Qin)

Even if you don't choose non of them they will respect your choise and let you be, keeping your relationship as a friendship (however there is a chance that they will try to flirt with you sometimes for a while)

#shuumatsu no valkyrie #records of ragnarok #snv #snv x reader #ror #ror x reader #snv hades x reader #ror hades x reader #hades x reader #snv qin shi huang #ror qin shi huang #qin shi huang x reader #x reader #x gn reader #manga x reader

298 notes · View notes

tokio-motel · 9 months

Note

heyyy boo boo bear🥰🥰🥰

so i finally thought of smth(kinda did i alr send this) AHEM full band(separately headcannons cause aint nobody wanna write alat) with s bf who is a BIG ASS ppl pleaser(wait wait this aint the main idea)

imagine reader prolly always gets his back blown out but he's always giving the aftercare(like them mfs dont have a choice) and on one particular round or smth reader didn't tell them to stop when he started to feel lightheaded n shit cause he could hear them whispering how good this was etc etc so he was about to pass out or smth like that(he didn't he survived) yet he STILL offered to give aftercare like a mf idiot(me)

ANYWAY im in school but i had to give u this idea frfr

BAND X PEOPLE PLEASER READER

HELP I THOUGHT THIS WAS GONNA BE PURE FLUFF UNTIL I GOT TO THE FUCKING BACK BLOWN OUTTTTT

(contains nsfw themes so if you don't like that don't read)

BILL:

・He's 50/50 on noticing small things like this

・But he's in such a euphoric state, whimpers leaving his lips as he rams into you with his hands wrapped around your waist

・Listening to you tell him how good he is, but over time your words die down and eventually your silent.

・He can barley ask if your okay, nearly stopping his movements. He would've stopped completely if it weren't for you telling him to keep going. As long as he felt good, right?

・After climax (EWWWAHHH) he leans knto your neck, smiling as he hears you begin to ask that amazing question

"Wanna go show-"

"yes."

・He just likes your fingers running through his hair, massaging his scalp as you rub the conditioner in.

・He's been itching to ask if you were really okay, he doesn't want to seem too worried or overreactive. He can already feel tears prickling his eyes as yo hesitate to ask at the startxbefore admitting to feeling ill.

・God fucking damn it..I should've stopped I-"

"It's not your fault, babe.."

・Cuddling you for the rest of the day (or night), not being able to take his hands off you as he tries to make it up to you.

・No like...literally can't take his hands off you. If you eat later that day he seats you on his lap.

TOM:

・He gets caught up in his own pleasure.

・Like he won't really notice it when you slowly stop responding, or when you go a little too limp

・He's in some sorta headspace 😭

・Whispering to you how good you feel around him, how perfect you are..

・After allat, he eventually snaps out of it and notices how your barley making any noise or aren't talking

"M/N? .. M/N you okay???"

"Hmmm..? Yeah I'm good..wanna take a bath with me.?"

・During aftercare he keeps asking if you're okay under his breath, kissing your cheeks as you rest in the tub together.

・If you actually confess to feeling ill or lightheaded his heart stops for a second

・HE ACTUALLY FEELS SO BAD STOPPP

・Like he'd kinda try to hide it, but eventually emotions get the best of him and soon enough he's holding back tears apologizing to you kissing over your neck, ignoring you when you say you were fine.

GEORG:

・Like Tom, he's not exactly the best..

・Telling you how good you are for him under his breath, not exactly noticing you slowly stopped responding.

・Can't help but feel concerned, unsure if he should stop or keep going

・He nearly did, but your hand gripped his thigh to stop him from pulling out so..

・Afterwards he puts on your favorite show/movie, snuggling against you as he leaves kisses on your forehead.

・Doesn't ease into it and just asks you flat out.

"Were you okay..?"

"What-"

"yes or no."

・no

・He feels a lump build at the back of his throat, yet he still tries to talk to you

・Asking when or what made you feel this way, making sure he would never do this to you again

・He feels bad about it a few days later, even with your constant worss that you were okay

・He's scared to have sex with you again for a little...THAT SOUNDS SO WEIRD BUT IT'S TRUE?

・Like I said- he doesn't want to put you through that again

・but likeeee you need that dick so you convince him and it all works out

GUSTAV:

・HE'S TOO SWEET STOP

・He's quite good at noticing things like these.

・Stopping his movements when you start to look..off. Or when you just stop making noise completely.

・Ignoring your soft whine of protest, asking you "Are you good..?" ..no you're not. you're gonna say you're not and -

"Yeah I'm fine...keep going please..!"

・Hesitate before going back to his pace he was at before, kissing your chest and neck as his fingers go down your waist and tickles down your thighs

・Still concerned he can't really hear your moans or whines, but you said you wanted more so he should continue..

・He's sooxfucking tired after sex omg..hes surprised when you ask to give aftercare

"Are you sure? You don't wanna like..sleep?"

"No, no. Let's go get water or something."

・Giving you an aspirin and a water bottle as he gets a piece of candy, not being able to take his eyes off you as he contemplates if he should ask if your okay.

・he does. you answer.

・HE WANTS TO CRY WHAT

・Like..he made you feel lightheaded? He made you nearly pass out? He made you sick?

・Can't even bother to look at himself or think about him, only focusing on you and your needs as he spoils you rotten.

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azulera · 11 months

Note

Rashy noticing that's something has been wrong with you for the last few weeks and you just won't tell him and he's stressing trying to figure it out

azulera

Don’t Leave Me Alone

Pairing: Marcus Rashford x Black Reader

Words: 3.5k

Notes: ngl recent events have made me not even want to post but i already had this done and as i said, i do value that ppl like my writing enough to send requests. so here is this! hope u like it anon

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

They'd picked the summer time to move in, late May to be exact, and Marcus was sure it was the smartest decision he’d ever been a part of. The prem season was ended, Y/N was out for the semester, they both had at least five weeks free to travel and relax, and there’d be no cold for the mover’s fingers to go blue in. The transporting itself had gone smoothly, each of her things finding its place in the huge expanse of his house, and the past month and a half of eating, sleeping and waking next to each other had been as nearest to perfect as Marcus thought life might get. So he couldn’t explain what, in the last seven days, could have possibly gone wrong.

“Is everythin alright, love?” He asked over the dinner table, which was sanded wood and brought over from Y/N’s apartment, much smaller than the one he’d used before.

She looked up from her plate and blinked. “Do you mean about dinner? I think I finally got the potatoes right this time, yeah.”

“No, not the food.” The side of his mouth lifted. “You’ve just seemed a bit down, this week, I don’t know. Just wanted to ask, see if there was anythin buggin you?”

“Oh,” She passed a hand over her hair. “Just tired, I guess. It was a rough semester.”

“Yeah, it was – you smashed it, though. But,” He paused until she looked at him, and was immediately taken by her brown eyes, which, unreadable as they were, he’d always found incredibly beautiful. “If anything’s wrong, you can tell me. I’d want to help.”

“Mhm.” She replied, and flitted her eyes away, pushing up from the table. “Let’s clean up?”

He nodded, though he wasn’t convinced, and stood up to take their few dishes to the kitchen. They rinsed and loaded in a silence not as comfortable as it ought to have been, and soon finished, Y/N pausing in front of the rumbling machine. From behind, Marcus pulled her into an embrace, fitting his hands around her waist and mumbling into her neck.

“Wanna come cuddle wi’me for a bit? We can watch the next Narcos.”

He felt her take a deep breath, and then lightly pat the hand that held her.

“I’ve got a little headache, actually. Think m’gonna lay down for the night.”

Marcus frowned. “You want me to watch the next episode? Without you?”

“Yeah, go ahead – I’ll get caught up when you’re on your trip next week. I’d just really like to lay down.”

Fatigue colored her voice, and Marcus felt a little more sure that she really was just under the weather, and not anything worse.

“D’you want me to bring you tea? Water? Medicine?”

She shook her head “no”, and turned around, another sigh hitting the fabric of his t-shirt.

“S’alright, then. Hope you get feeling better, babe.” He leaned in, pressed a kiss to her forehead, and then two to the dark spirals of her hair. “I’ll be up in a bit. I love you.”

A near silent “thank you” left her lips, and she squeezed his hand once. And then Marcus was left in the kitchen alone.

After a mild pre-season session the next day, Marcus skipped showering to go straight to his car. When he’d seen her that morning, Y/N had still seemed poorly – she hadn’t left bed for tea and breakfast with him, and no silly texts or memes had come into his phone, the way they usually did during his long hours of training. Leaving now, he'd felt a strange, strong urge to get to her, like the sooner he did, the sooner things would go back to normal.

When he keyed into the house, however, her usual lounging spot – in the center of the living room sectional – was empty. As were the kitchen, bedroom, gym and laundry room that he walked to after. He found her instead on the back patio, cuddled into herself on the sunbed, with her curls spread wild and loose about her shoulders. A book was opened up and settled on her knees, and a pile of crumpled tissues sat just to her right.

“Hey, was lookin for you.”

The jitters that assailed him finally began to slow as he approached her, but didn’t fade completely.

“What’s all these for? You wasn’t crying, were you?”

“No, no, not really. It’s just this book. It’s pretty sad.” She tried to laugh at herself, but the sound came out wet and dull. “Or maybe I’m just dramatic.”

A range of emotions swept over him as he considered her pink, puffy eyes, the way she still wouldn’t hold his gaze for too long. His anxiety flared again, but he continued on with the plan he’d devised in the car, hopeful that it might still work.

“Well, I’m just about to run a bath, didn’t have time to shower after training. It could cheer you up, maybe. Did you wanna join me?”

It’s something special they do, just for them, a quiet and closeness involved that Marcus enjoyed far more than he’d ever said aloud. He hoped it would be enough to break through the wall he felt sprouting between them.

“But you’re all sweaty.” She said flatly.

He sucked his teeth, and sat alongside her on the thin mattress.

“That never stopped you before? When we were squeezed up in the one at your flat.”

“Right.” Her face fell, suddenly, as if she’d remembered something unpleasant. “But I’ve already showered, actually, a bit ago. Went out for a run.”

“That never stopped you before, either” Marcus wanted to say but didn’t, and focused instead on fixing his face to not reveal his disappointment.

“Okay.” He stalled a moment, weighing his next move. “Babe, are you sure everything is okay with you? M’a bit worried–”

“It’s fine, Marcus. It’s going to be fine, just …” She closed her eyes, and they glistened when they opened, focused seriously on his own. “I’m fine. Just stop pushing it, please.”

She gathered her book and trash and walked back into the house, which hurt him, but her last sentences hurt worse. If he wasn't meant to push, then what could he do? Sitting back and watching her pull further and further away from him was tortuous and seemed the opposite of what a good partner should do. Still, he nodded, even though she had already gone, and let his head fall into his hands.

A few hours later, in the bath, the jacuzzi jets going but alone, nothing was as it should have been. Already he missed the slide of her wet skin against his, how the brown of it went faintly pink the hotter she ran the water, which was scalding enough by Marcus’ standards. Now it felt lukewarm at best, the bubbles even less fluorescent, less bubbly than usual, without her there to scoop handfuls of them to paste on his face and chest, making herself giggle and cleaning their bodies in the process. He missed that, too, he realized, her body – it’s softness and strength, and how easily it yielded and came alive under his hands, but more concerning was her mind, which was somewhere outside its optimal state, and seemingly getting worse by the day.

He leaned his head back against the tub’s edge and sighed. It was a soft sound, quickly lost among the hum of the jets and the noise of his muscles singing and thanking him, but then he heard something else. Crying. Quiet, choked-off sobs from the other side of the en suite door, that he knew Y/N was trying to hide, but didn’t know why. The sound alone carved a hole deeper in his chest.

Before he realized it, he’d risen from the bath, shampoo still in his hair, and pushed open the door to their bedroom.

Squinting through the dark, Marcus could tell she was in the bed, asleep, or at least pretending to be. He debated whether or not to wake her – his every instinct begged him to, but the noise of tears had stopped, and he’d been specifically, harshly instructed not to “push”.

He waited several moments anyway, eyeing her sleeping form, burning up inside, but when she didn’t budge, he stepped back into the bathroom, mindful of the growing puddle he’d created on the carpet.

Under the shower head, he rinsed his hair and dried off, putting on his lotion and moisturizer in record time, all the while his mind racing, trying to settle the unease twisting up his chest and throat. When he got to the bedroom, he set his alarm and settled in under the covers behind her, as close as he dared.

Though her breaths came and went evenly, something in him, maybe something of his own creation, told him she was awake, that she could hear him. He felt free to unburden himself, and say what he wanted her to know.

“M’here for you, Y/N.” He used one arm to hold her against his chest, and the other to fix her hair scarf where it had ridden up in the back. “Hope you know that. Whatever it is, we can … fix it, talk about it, at least, together. Love you ... don’t wanna lose you.”

He knew the words were true, and could feel their sincerity aching somewhere deep in his bones. But he feared he was running out of ways to make sure Y/N believed it, too.

By the following day, Marcus decided “not pushing” was no longer a viable option. Y/N was gone from bed even before him, and he turned to his night-table to find a message saying she’d gone out for an early run again and to get coffee. It wasn’t a strange occurrence on its own, but the way the last few days had gone, weeks really, this latest change to their patterns was enough to set him on a nervous edge. All through the day, his head was gone, drifting and distracted while training, and his thoughts sprinting to the worst - Y/N wanted to move out, she wanted to break up with him – in any moment he had idle.

But when his third check-in text sent from the rain-wet bed of the physio suite went unanswered, as did the two facetime call requests, it became slightly harder for him to breathe. The PT scrunched his face, but Marcus didn’t explain, wasn’t sure he’d be able to speak if he tried, and he’d been forced through two rounds of deep breathing before he’d let him off the table.

As soon as the gaffer released them, Marcus raced home through the rain that had begun to pour, calling one more time to no avail, but trying to stay rational. He imagined her sat in her spot on the big sofa in the sitting room when he arrived, apologetic and with some perfectly logical story of what had kept her from her phone all day, and what had depressed her mood the past few weeks.

He opened the front door, however, to silence, and her car keys still gone. His stomach dropped, and an icy, despairing prickle crawled over his skin. Was he overreacting? Or should he have pushed more?

Somehow he knew the rest of the house and even the back porch would be empty, just as silent, and found himself climbing the stairs anyway. His legs stopped by the room he used as his office, and he threw himself into the desk chair. He felt more calm, serious in there, for some reason, and composed himself enough to check her location, which was inconclusive, and click her contact another time. It went to voicemail once again, and he cursed, pulling at his hair.

After one heavy, frantic beat, he picked up the phone again to dial the only other number that would be useful at a time like this. The call picked up on the second ring.

“Mum?”

Marcus’ car had been in the driveway when you pulled up, but when you stepped into his house – your house, now – there wasn’t any trace of him. Late afternoon training usually left him in the kitchen or theater room, scarfing down whatever meals his nutritionist prepared before conking out in his-your bed for a few hours until dinner.

You checked your phone, which had been dead up until the last five minutes when you’d connected it to the car charger, and realized it was closer to dinner time than you’d thought.

Dropping off your raincoat and bag, you went in search of him. The blaring missed calls and texts deserved a response, as hard as it would be to face him in person. You didn’t want him to worry any more than he already did, even though you felt there was little, if anything, he could do.

“Marcus?” You called up the stairs, but there was only your footsteps, the patter of rain, in answer.

You began climbing anyway, sure the sounds of the house would lead you to him, and eventually heard his voice, muffled through the closed door of his office. You stopped, and leaned against the wall to listen.

“She won’t talk to me, mum, she won’t, I’ve tried everythin. She’s not physically hurt, no, but something is wrong. I know that much. It’s like she don’t even want to be around me.”

There was a pause, and an ache began in your chest. The distress in your partner’s voice was palpable.

“But I’ve gave her space. And I’ve even asked her up front what’s wrong, and still nothin. I'm leavin for my trip in a few days, and I won’t be able to fix anythin from there. Reckon she might even be gone by then.”

Each second you listened, you fell further and further into the mire of guilt, and it seemed impossible to get out. Some external force, whose name or origin you didn’t know, forced your hand onto the knob and pushed into the room.

You met his eyes, cautious, but found nothing but relief, unshed tears in them.

“Y/N. Baby.” His voice cracked around the words, and he flew to your side of the room, crushing you to his body, burying his face in your damp hair.

“Are you hurt? Are you okay? Where were you?”

You tried, but couldn't speak around the lump in your throat. All you wanted was for him to hold you again, and to apologize for everything.

“Y/N. You’ve gotta talk to me, please. M’goin mad here, I’ve been goin mad–”

“I’m okay, Marcus. I’m not hurt.” You squeezed at his hands, trying to loosen their tight grip around your back and also trying to ground him. “Went for my run and coffee like I said, and then around to visit my mates at my old flat. My phone died, and I didn’t realize. I should’ve known you would worry.”

He looked back at you with wide eyes still, nodding slow like it was taking serious effort to comprehend the words leaving your mouth.

“I’m okay, baby. I promise.”

When he finally spoke, his voice was gravelly, but much quieter, and none of the terror gone from it.

“Y/N, look, know you asked me not to push, but I can't just do nothin while–”

“Wait, Marcus – can we sit and do this? Please. And you’ve gotta get out of this jacket, babe, it’s soaked. You’ll catch a cold.”

The familiar sound of your fussing seemed to center him further, and he slid the jacket off, settling stiffly on the futon along the opposite wall. His legs were spread wide, and he raised his hands to his knees, fingers digging into them.

Hesitantly, you followed, standing between his legs, watching his eyes, which you’d missed, and his lips, which you’d possibly missed even more. You paused before lowering yourself onto his knee.

“Is this okay?”

“‘Course” He breathed out, pulling you the rest of the way down and rubbing his hands gently up and down your back. It was the first moment you’d felt at ease in the last two weeks, and you took the time to just hug him, wiping at a drop of water puddled along his hairline. Gradually, everything that had been pent-up seemed much easier to face.

“I’ve been real distant the past weeks, haven’t I.”

“Yeah.”

“It’s cause I’ve been confused.”

“Confused about what?”

The intensity of his eyes suddenly became too much, and you pressed your cheek against his shoulder. You made sure your voice still reached him clear.

“Confused about my feelings. About us, about us living together.”

His stomach had gone cold with dread again, but you took the silence as a license to continue. You knew he would stop you if and when he’d heard enough.

“It’s been great, it really has, Marcus. You’re my favorite person to be around – you know that.” His insides smiled at the mention, since the past week had convinced him of the opposite. Still, his expression remained the same.

“And you seemed so happy, having me here. But sometimes, lately, it got — I don’t know, overwhelming? Like, I had my friends in my last flat with me, and it feels like I spend so much time here alone. When you’re here, I don’t feel like that, but that don't feel fair to you either.”

He bit his lip. “I don’t understand.”

“I know, it’s confusing, but it’s like, I’m used to my roommates, us all together, a lot of noise – even when you’re alone you’re not really alone. So whenever you get here, I want to recreate that, spend every second with you, if I can. Didn’t want you to think I was clinging, though? ‘Cause I know how that feels, too.” You paused to take a breath, and Marcus rubbed your back, silent encouragement to continue.

“Thought you should be able to come home and spend your time on your own, too, if that’s what you wanted. So I was moping, but trying to give you that, for a while. Thought that if I could give you some space until your trip next week, I’d be okay. I could use that week to get myself together, stop being ungrateful. ‘Cause I am so lucky, aren’t I? To be able to live with this person I love so much. But I guess I only made it worse.”

“So it’s findin a balance, then, that was hard. Findin ... where you and I, personal time ends, and where “us” time begins.” Marcus summarized.

There was an unspoken “Why didn’t you just say so?” at the back of his statement that your partner was too kind and too patient to say. But you deserved it, so you said it yourself.

“Exactly. But I should have told you that it was eating me up. Not tried to isolate myself, or shut you out. And I’m sorry, about that. ”

Marcus let the apology ring out, and laced the fingers of one of your hands together, a quiet absolution. You felt lighter, now, after having spoken your piece, but knew that didn’t mean the conservation was over.

“Don’t think I need to say I forgive you, because,” He leaned his chin into his palm thoughtfully, before looking up at you. “Because I really get it, you know. I do. I understand that you need your own space, to feel like your own person still. And also that I’m gone, and it’s just you here, a lot, which is new for you. I get that it’s overwhelming, that findin the balance bit. But– I’ve never done this, moved in with someone before, either, have I? It’s excitin, but it’s a lot of other emotions, too. You can’t assume how m’feeling, or how I want to spend my time, just like I can’t read your mind about what's got you upset, innit?”

He paused.

“And it’s like, we’ve gotta figure it out together, don’t we?”

You nodded.

“So when -if, you’re feelin like that again, you’ll tell me? Even if you think it’ll hurt my feelings, or whatever. And if you need to go spend extra time with your mates to feel alright, we’ll sort it. And I’ll do the same. Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

"You promise?"

You promised, wrapping your arms around his shoulders, and chin against his head. With the most difficult part of the conversation over, your senses opened up enough beyond Marcus to notice that the sound of rain outside had ceased. The wet, grassy smell of his training kit finally entered your nose, and your good humor began to stretch its legs.

“So I don’t need to go pack my things?” You mumbled into his shoulder.

“No.” Marcus snorted. “Not unless you changed your mind the last 15 seconds.”

“Nah, I reckon I’ll stay. I'd miss the jacuzzi tub too much.” You sighed. “Saying no to that bath with you was the hardest thing I ever done.”

Marcus chuckled, enough air in his chest to do so now, and kissed you lightly on the lips.

“Fancy one now?” He repeated, and your “please” was fast and enthusiastic. He scooped you in his arms, and you held tight to him, murmuring quiet “I love you”s and knowing as you walked through the house –your house– that you were exactly where you were meant to be.

#marcus rashford x oc #marcus rashford x reader #marcus rashford x you #marcus rashford fanfiction #marcus rashford imagine #footballer x you #footballer x reader #football imagine #football fanfic

153 notes · View notes

gaycrashbandicoot · 2 months

Text

there is a subreddit (on reddit lol) called r/ftmpassing and trans guys post pictures on it to see if they pass* and people on there are very brutally honest about the pictures. which is like obviously fine bcs there's no point asking ppl if u pass if ur worried about not passing and they don't tell you the truth. HOWEVER I know for certain some ppl who post on there think they pass or are expecting to be validated and then they are upset they are told they aren't passing and told exactly why and it isn't necessarily something they can change.

like passing is such a changable thing depending on the culture you live in and also your body moves differently in real life than in pictures like I've met trans guys who passed in pictures but didn't pass in real life or vice versa like someone seeing the way u move and speak definitely effects how you pass and I know the people in the comments are working with what they have but I think it's a very American centric view of passing first of all like if u pass in America you won't necessarily pass everywhere and vice versa. and also given that they don't have the full information about ur mannerisms and your body in motion they are very brutal with their comments.

like me personally I pass as a cis man 100% of the time even pre T I passed 50 - 60% of the time and I'm not even genetically gifted, I live near an open minded area which helps and also pre t the main ppl who misgendered me were old ladies. and now I know I pass I'm never misgendered or having my gender questioned in public spaces like i used to and I even pass to trans people who often don't believe me when I tell them I'm trans and I've genuinely been asked over and over again if I'm joking or actually trans by trans people I meet and told I pass really well. but I reckon if I put a picture on that subreddit I would be told I don't pass because I don't look how you expect a passing trans man to look also I think I pass more irl than in pictures bcs I have masculine mannerisms which helps.

idk I just understand the point of the sub but I hope the ppl recieving the comments know that it is very subjective and they don't necessarily have to change the things they are told to bcs they might pass! and ppl on reddit are not the arbiter of ur passing capabilities.

*(and I'm actually not criticising this as a concept I know there is discourse about passing in the trans community but I think that "passing isn't everyone's goal of transitioning and it's absolutely fine if trans ppl can't or don't want to pass" and "passing can lead to safety and comfort and is some ppls trans goal so it's okay to want that" are two statements that can coexist)

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kaisfruit · 6 months

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junkrat x lucio wholesome hcs PLEEAASEEE PLEASE PLEASE 🙏🙏🙏

Boombox (Junkrat x Lucio) Wholesome HCs

A/N: IK THIS SAYS ANON BUT THIS IS MY BFF YALL THX U FOR REQUESTING POOKIE ILY <333 also this just kinda turned into boombox hcs in general im srry qwq warnings: junkrat is his own warning that's it

I'm just in love with them. I need to get over that first before I type ANYTHING

anyways-

Lucio staying up with Junkrat when Jamison is really into whatever he's working on at the moment

To be honest, seeing Lucio get tired makes him feel a bit bad and it ends with them both going to bed bc it's okay if Jamie is sleep deprived but it can't be his fault that Lucio is as well. That won't do at all!

And i see a lot of ppl being like "Lucio helps calm Jamie down <3"

BFFR

Lucio is an enabler.

Junkrat: BABE! WANNA SEE HOW MANY BOMBS IT TAKES FOR ME TO PASS OUT FROM SMOKE INHALATION? <3

Lucio: Hell yeah. Lemme get my phone

No one else is allowed to find the video funny tho

That's right. Lucio def notices how everyone in OW treats Jamie (idc im projecting here. WHY IS EVERYONE SO MEAN TO HIM IDC IF HE'S A CRIMINAL HE'S FUNNY)

DVa can maybe find it a bit funny, but that's cuz she gets BFF privileges

Lucio constantly hitting Junkrat with the "hold on, this song reminds me of you-"

Eventually he just makes a whole playlist

Junkrat has it blasting constantly in his workshop

That or he has every song by Lucio on shuffle

Now, Jamison's,,,talent,,, is a bit harder to show affection with

It took Lucio a long time to really grasp Jamie's love language, but now he knows that 99% of the time that Junk's bombs towards him are romantic

The other 1% are accidents and Lucio is the only person Junkrat apologizes to

He doesn't even do that for Roadhog, so this is a very rare honor

Junkrat is so on board with Lucio being a freedom fighter

"HELL YEAH! fuck the government! down with the enforcer! BLOW THEM UP!"

The enthusiasm is much appreciated, but Lucio does have to explain in detail what he's really fighting for

Junkrat's chaotic nature is just on board with anything

And, despite being the resident yapper of overwatch, he really does like listening to lucio telling him abt things he wasn't aware of while being in Australia

Lucio's telling him so ofc it has GOT to be important, yk?

Sorry this is all just such word vomit. They're my two mains and I just....love them both sm i cant

They're just such a chaotic duo together

Like yeah, Lucio is a pretty chill guy but god does Jamison bring out the worst in him sometimes. They're perfect for eachother

On the rare occasion, Lucio can get Junkrat to settle down long enough for cuddles <3 ofc the lad is still a bit twitchy but it helps him realize that maybe this isn't so bad

Lucio shows Junkrat a kind of love Jamison has never seen before and Junkrat helps Lucio learn that it's okay to lose his cool sometimes

They just compliment each other so well

TL;DR Lucio and Junkrat are so good for each other I will throw hands over this

#overwatch #ow2 #junkrat #jamison fawkes #lucio correia dos santos #overwatch lucio #overwatch junkrat #boombox ow #boombox overwatch #junkrat x lucio #overwatch headcanons

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twintravelers · 8 months

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need me someone to do a haikaveh animatic of them w/the song lemon boy. i swear it fits them so much… i have my own interpretation of it below the cut !! (it's a bit long but bear w me.. tldr if u dont wanna read it: i think lemon boy nicely fits hkvh's progression in their relationship from their academia days to current times + they kiss at the end as a treat)

verse 1: There once was a bittersweet man and they called him, "Lemon Boy" / He was growing in my garden and I pulled him out by his hair like a weed

alhaitham thru kaveh's eyes, hkvh meeting at the academia (alhaitham is lemon boy), start of arguments

And like weeds do he only came and grew back again / So, I figured this time I might as well let him be

recurrent arguments+debates, slowly become friends

chorus: Lemon Boy and me started to get along together / I helped him plant his seeds / And we'd mow the lawn in bad weather

start hanging out/studying tgt !!

It's actually pretty easy being nice to a bitter boy like him / So, I got myself a citrus friend

become real friends / lowkey crushing?

verse 2: But soon his bittersweet started to rub off on me / You'd think smelling like lemon zest would be pretty neat

some more scenes of younger hkvh hanging out tgt :3 imagine what u want

I found out that my friends are more of the savory type / And they weren't too keen on compromising with a nice lemon pie

kaveh talking to some ppl who don't like alhaitham, argues w them (in alhaitham's favour) n leaves (maybe w alhaitham eavesdropping? lol)

chorus: So Lemon Boy and me, we just gotta get along together / I helped him plant his seeds / And we'll mow the lawn in bad weather

hkvh CUTE/fluff scenes working on the infamous project tgt

It's actually pretty easy being nice to a bitter boy like him / So, I got myself a citrus friend

maybe some more obvious crushing here idk.. i just love to think of them pining but not saying anything in their academia days...

bridge: But what if I run out of fertilizer? / What if the clouds run out of rain? / What if Lemon Boy won't grow no longer? / What if beaches dry of sugar cane? / Oh well

/the/ fight. kaveh leaves. they grow apart, the years passing by. alhaitham finds kaveh drunk at the bar.

The whales start to beach themselves / Tortoise shells tear away from their spines / It happens all the time, it happens all the time

after listening to his ex-friend woes, alhaitham takes his jacket, puts it over kaveh's shoulder, and brings him back to his home, offering him a second key to the house in the morning

pre-chorus: Lemon Boy and I, we're gonna live forever / Like Snufkin and Little My, we'll get around wherever

kaveh slowly getting settled in his new home w/alhaitham <3

chorus: Lemon Boy and I, we're gonna live forever / Like Snufkin and Little My, we'll get around wherever / It's actually pretty easy being nice to a bitter boy like him

them slowing hanging out tgt again, bickering w each other, little fond alhaitham moment w a small smile when he looks at kaveh arguing w him

outro: 'Cause we're the bitterest boys in town / Yeah, we're the bitterest guys around / And I got myself a citrus friend

alhaitham slowly approaches kaveh while he's complaining and kisses him to shut him up (heheheh) on the last line and it ends w kaveh being flustered but bringing alhaitham in for another kiss

OKAY IM DONE... hope someone read until the end if u did ily

#genshin impact #genshin #kaveh #genshin kaveh #alhaitham #genshin alhaitham #haikaveh #kavetham #kaveh x alhaitham #songs #they embody this song ur honour #umm idk what else to tag im new here #lemon boy #cavetown #twintravelers.txt

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an-obsessed-cactus · 2 months

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I think i may be asexual?!

(okay this got longer than expected and i wanted to stop talking cuz ppl won't read it if it's so long and then i realized I'm not here to please anybody and i just wanna process some stuff so. yeah. also i come to realizations farther down that contradict some stuff from the beginning but I'll just leave my whole thought process here)

fun. um. I've realized I'm not straight two years ago and then started learning more about all things LGBT related and think myself educated enough on this topic but.

I've been pondering my sexuality and gender identity again more in recent days and. today i randomly stumbled across a yt video where the author (are you an author on yt? my brain is glitching rn)(also the 'author' in question is @jaidenanimationsofficial wonderful videos love the animation and the humor) talks about being aroace. few hours pass, my stomach hurts like hell so i go to lay down and sleep a bit, wake up and have a realization.

i googled again what asexuality is and read some more on this. i did this before and i guess i didn't see myself in it? so i kinda crossed it off the list of possible identities. i guess because i do want to have sex. i think. I'm not opposed to it and i get horny lmao. but that's only with fictional characters and works? like i just think: that was very sexy of you. but in a platonic way?! sex doesn't cross my mind. (also can you get aroused by music? or a good written work? or movie? like not even the characters but the work itself?) sorry i dunno I'm confused.

anyway i got a bit off track. what i wanted to say was that i suddenly remembered a convo i had with my sister a while ago where we talked about what is the difference between friendship and a romantic relationship. and she said it's that u wanna have sex with them and i was like ... i don't really think that's it...

and like. i get crushes i think. but I've never experienced this want to have sex with a particular person at least that i could remember. like a want to have sex? i guess yeah i mean not rlly sth i think about much but it's not unprecedented(see: i get horny)

honestly I'm not even sure anymore if im not aromantic as well. cuz queerplatonic sounds more like my jam?

like i felt(feel?) like omnisexual described me well because i think I'd be attracted to who the person is at their core. what if ur straight as a girl, date a boy, and then it turns out he's trans? i dunno i feel like gender isn't this fixed thing which then kinda creates problems when labeling urself with a certain sexuality. aaaa people came irl and i lost my train of thought. um. i feel like labeling myself anything other than omnisexual would feel limiting. even if i never developed a crush on a girl for example (i did), i still feel like i could potentially. like there's nothing stopping me. why shouldn't I?

OKAY SO

that was written yesterday. it is now today and i have a whole lot of new thoughts and realizations.

I had a bit of a marathon with @jaidenanimationsofficial videos and i came across an older one she mentioned in the previous one i watched about being aroace(ik it's a mess) about how she couldn't understand why when romantic feelings are not mutual people don't just continue being friends. and i was like EXACTLY WHAT IS UP WITH THAT?! and um. ahem. do u really see it as a problem? I guess if everyone does. but I'm starting to seriously consider if I'm aroace as well which woah there. this happened in a span of a day and I'm not sure it's real and it doesn't feel real? some time will have to pass for me to check out this theory cuz. ppl often say they felt like there was sth wrong with them and then they discovered these terms and were like aHA that's it! that explains everything! and I didn't... have that? and I'm not sure to what extent i identify with aroace because reasons(ill talk about some of it below). and I'm not saying that not having this realization moment or not feeling like sth is wrong with me through my life devalidates my orientation and stuff but it makes me doubt i guess?

i also came to an important discovery that aroused and horny are not the same. who would have thought?! I said above i get horny but apparently being horny means to want to have sex. and i just get the physical part aka arousal. fun. someone help pls im so confused.

okay for the last part(which prolly won't be the last part but one can hope right?)

i said i realized i wasn't straight two years ago. that was when i realized i like my best friend as more than i friend. well it wasn't exactly that simple. tbh i think Lucifer(the series i am NOT a satanist) helped a lot with that? like i knew about some lgbt stuff before because I'm alive on this planet but it kinda made me think about a lot of stuff, and between that stuff was my sexuality as well. idk. it's not like i had a crush on any of the female characters. just got me thinking for some reason. like why is having sex with people you're not romantically involved with wrong? why is prostitution wrong if u enjoy it and get money for it and it's well managed and secure? but that's beside the point.

well anyway I didn't know what i felt towards my bff(I'll say bff cuz bf also stands for boyfriend so it feels weird) but it felt like more than friendship. didn't feel like sth romantic tho. then i discovered queerplatonic relationships exist and i was like i think that's it! and then new school year came i saw her again and doubts flared up. again there was never i wanna have sex with her, but there was an occasional i wanna kiss her. and she was so important to me so it has to be romantic love right?! romance is the highest form of love one can experience afterall! nothing whatsoever can compare to it!! it feels ✨magical✨ when you find you will finally be completed!!! anyways.

it felt like romantic love was the only thing that could justify me feeling this way. i won't go deeper into this because i already have a draft where i do(i have like 16 drafts with uncompleted rambles so...) I'll try to post it but. i told her and we're still good friends! it actually made me closer to the rest of my friend group(which i was only a part of on the paper before)(i was so focused on my bff before I didn't really do group) because i felt a bit distanced from her for a while(she's a people pleaser like me and even tho i think i can read her well im paranoid and i thought she may feel weird?). anyways i got close with 3 other amazing ppl in the meantime and my friendship with my bff hasn't suffered!

but between my feelings being kinda realized and me telling her a whole year has passed and in the end i wasn't even sure what i was feeling anymore just that i didn't want her not to know. idk.

now im wondering what it was. even back then half year pre confession i was thinking if it was just because someone was finally paying attention to me. i didn't really do friends before (i kinda had them but there were no deep convos or shared secrets) and then there was suddenly this person who genuinely enjoys spending time with me! and listens to my problems! and weird obsessions! this sounds kinda sad put like this ngl lmao. but this was the first time I had that deep connection with someone. two years in my confused feelings came. geez i got off track again. point is i thought i was straight up until then and then had a crisis cuz i thought i only liked her cuz she was giving me attention cuz i was straight goddamit! ANYWAYS.

this post has lost all direction. it is a frustrated ramble of a very confused person. let us continue

i will just sum up how i feel about genders and people because I'm a chronic oversharer. oops doops.

men: find them aesthetically pleasing, all celebrity crushes are in this category (there's only one really but if i found a celebrity attractive like not objectively but to me it was a man), i would also get kinda crushes on boys my age when i spent 5 minutes with them. don't ask. i think it's dopamine mining(i suspect i have adhd). im not used to male company and i kinda don't like it that much but the the ?butterflies? are still there. tbh i don't really know what to do with men. doesn't stop me from having crushes tho. i don't have any real desire to be in a romantic relationship with men. i don't exclude the possibility but i haven't found one i would want it with. i also don't know now to interact with them. let alone flirt. actually flirt in general. it feels like it would be cringe and belongs in bad movies.

women: freaking amazing!! love them! no celebrity crushes, one irl crush which might have moved beyond crush(i suspected the L word for a while) to friends or it might have never been a crush in the first place! help! now there's another friend outside of my friend group who i may like. or i just enjoy her company? im not used to this yet. i forgot i think im aroace. this is killing me.

nonbinary/other genders: I haven't met any yet. there are some on discord servers im a part of but I don't really interact much just lurk there. i think irl experience would be different anyway.

someone please explain sth to me. you have sexual attraction okay get that(not really but that's not the point). but then there's romantic attraction. how do you separate that from friendship? just this intense feelings of wanting to be with them at all times? okay myb myb let's say u can separate them from friendship. what about queerplatonic? guys??

i am starting to dislike labels. this is confusing.

also i gotta figure this romantic thing out cuz im writing a fantasy series and there's romance involved lol.

okay so i guess i am at least asexual cuz i don't see ppl and go 'i wanna have sex with them'. i am not yet thoroughly convinced im aromantic as well but we'll see about that ig. because i still don't understand what the difference between romance and deep friendship is. aghhh

although if i can't tell the difference myb that answers the question.

also how does someone who is asexual but romantically attracted to all genders label themselves? like omnisexual ig doesn't work cuz it omnisexual.

i went to google aromantic and.

"demiromantic people have romantic attraction only after forming an emotional bond with another person."

HOW ELSE DO YOU HAVE ROMANTIC ATTRACTION??? Isn't this about who the person is?! Do you just see them and go: oh this must be such a good person. what?

like i understand sexual attraction when you see someone ig. but romantic? i really need someone to explain this to me in depth. i haven't even been asking the right questions.

"Quoiromantic people can't tell the difference between romantic and platonic attractions." Welp i guess i have a new label i can stick on myself. also the name is killing me. (quoi=what in french💀)

(edit: well this thing just posted itself. I DIDN'T HIT POST WTF. but it's out there now. ig it had enough of me adding new and new thoughts. im inclined to agree)

#lgbtqia #lgbtq #lgbtq community #queer #queerplatonic #aroace #aromantic #asexual #aromantism #asexuality #omnisexual

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