a little piece of the night. (kavehxgn!reader)
a/n: literally don't know what got into me. i just felt like writing and things turned... hm, domestic? it's probably bc i'm tired lol.
Once, when watching him from a distance, from your expectations and your fantasy, you had expected Kaveh’s hands to be soft. You pictured the softness of flower petals against your lips as he smiled, thinking that his presence would bring a warmth that could only be compared with the sun.
Instead, the first thing you notice is that his calloused hands are cold.
Kaveh stumbles slightly in the cobblestone street, his red eyes dazed, probably due to his intoxicated state. He holds your hand firmly, and chuckles softly as he calls your name with a sing-song.
“Where are we going, my dear?” He asks.
“Home,” you say.
“Home?” he repeats, and for a second, all his drunken happiness vanishes. “Ugh, please, no. Alhaitham will say something annoying like, oh, so you have money to get wasted but not to get yourself out of debt”
(You make a note not to comment on his predicament, since it seems he doesn’t notice either.)
“He talks to me in such a condescending way, almost like he doesn’t care that I’m his senior!” His pretty lips form a pout as he closes his eyes, probably picturing the scenario. It seems that he doesn’t like the mental image, because his nose scrunches. “Oh, please spare me the headache, dearest,” he says as he pulls your hand close to his face and plants a kiss on your knuckles. “Take me somewhere else, I’m no stranger to night walks. Also, wouldn’t that be romantic?”
So you drag him to the little park that’s a couple streets from your place, which is deserted at this hour. Even inebriated, Kaveh is the genius everyone talks about, after all, and he makes sure the conversation doesn’t falter. He tells you about his latest ideas and when his rambling gets too intense to grasp it with words, he pulls out a pen from his pocket to draw diagrams in his hands. He tells you about his progress with the arts, and that’s how you end up doodling a padisarah in his palm with the best of your abilities.
Whatever you think of the result, it vanishes as you see his eyes light up with your drawing.
“Oh, you’re so adorable,” he says, “allow me to return the gift” and then he snatches the pen from you. Before you realise, there’s a floral garden blooming in your hand as he paints with confident strokes. It is only a simple pen, the cheapest mass produced kind from Fontaine, but it’s the artist before you the one that brings it to life on your skin.
“What do you think?” He asks, and it’s probably the way he shines under the moonlight, cheeks flushed from the cold and the alcohol that led you to act impulsively, out of your mind. It’s the moon, you tell yourself, as you grab his shirt and meet his lips, the garden blooming from your hands to your heart.
—
Kaveh lets out a little gasp and shivers, and you notice that the cold wind of the night played a part. You mumble an apology as you pull your hand away from the hot skin of his back. “Please, use my jacket” you tell him, already sliding the fabric off your shoulders.
“B-but…” he seems a bit taken aback by the sudden change, his lips swollen and pupils still dilated. You wrap the piece of clothing around his shoulders for good measure. “—what about you?” he says, “I can’t let you go like this while I wear your jacket”
“My place is near, and you’re seriously underdressed.”
“But—”
“No. If you want to return the favour…” you pretend you think about it, and smile. “Please come stay at my place tonight and have a coffee with me. Or tea. Whatever you want.”
Kaveh seems ready to keep protesting even if his face burns at your words, so you shut him up with another kiss. That works. His hands are still a little cold as you drag him to your home.
Despite all the heated kisses you shared, the first thing you do as you close the door is make Kaveh put on some clothes. There's a cotton shirt that fits him, and some old pajama pants so he can rest on a more comfortable outfit. You sit next to him on the sofa as you wait for the kettle. Kaveh immediately rests his head on your shoulder, and you stay like that until the water boils. Then it’s the both of you chatting with warm drinks and lots of paper scattered over the table as you begin drawing whatever comes up with conversation.
Kaveh falls asleep the moment you touch the bed. He pretends he isn’t tired, but you can tell. He tries to keep up the facade, but you wrap him in your arms and his body relaxes in your touch. Content, you kiss his forehead and close your eyes.
His breathing is steady, and his calloused hands finally warm.
can you believe writing this led me to learn that bic pencils are actually from france? (i just typed fontaine bc they're modern and then i got curious. bang! i made life-accurate ballpoint pens for teyvat?!)
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thinking about gorgug thistlespring, a barbarian half-orc raised by tinkerer gnomes, who tried to teach him that his anger was not a bad thing, that he was not a burden, that he should channel those negative emotions into something good and positive, like singing or making things, and so he did. he made friends, he learned the drums, he fought, he protected, he saved the world and met multiple who liked him for who he is.
thinking about gorgug thistlespring, a teenage boy with his first girlfriend, who was so devoted to protecting his friends that he made a mistake, he didn’t consider her feelings, so he fought so hard to make it right, he felt so guilty and so angry at himself so he built something just to be able to talk to her again. his parents taught him to channel his emotions and he realised he was just as good at creating as he was at raging. and even when the nightmare king’s forest threw his fears and insecurities in his face, he carried on, for his friends, because ���its gorgug, keep going.”
thinking about gorgug thistlespring, an artificer-barbarian who figured out who he is, what he wanted, what he’s good at, who knows how to channel his anger into protecting and creating, to save the world and his friends, only to be told that he couldn’t do that, he couldn’t do what he wanted, his anger was for destruction, not for creating, not for putting his life on the line for his friends, that all the things his parents had taught him, all the things that he had learned while saving the world were wrong.
thinking about gorgug thistlespring.
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The Crime Lord does not stop flirting with me!
When Danny ran away from home and ended up in Gotham he wasn't quite sure what to do, adrenaline was coursing through his veins and all he wanted was a place to be safe.
That's when Crime Alley lit up like a Christmas tree and Danny knew it could be his new home, something about Crime Alley was drawing him in. It wasn't long before he decided to get a job to lay low. Of course, the latter was a bust because Red Hood noticed him almost instantly.
Contrary to his expectations, the Crime Lord took an interest in him but said nothing. He simply asked him to repair his motorcycle like a normal customer in his new job. Danny did and well, he couldn't help but repair some damaged systems and add some modifications. He hoped he wasn't stepping out of line, he just couldn't help himself, it was second nature to repair damaged things.
He thought Red Hood would be angry about it but the man seemed delighted (or as delighted as he could look with the mask), he looked at Danny and asked him what else he could do. Nervously, he told him that he was somewhat good with technology and before he knew it he had been hired by a gang (more or less, they were just asking for some custom orders).
So, technically he established as the mechanic and supplier to the Hood gang, and more specifically to the Crime Lord himself. He gave Hood some upgrades and became his supplier of (mostly harmless) weapons and upgrades. This attracted the attention of most of the gangs that were against the Crime Lord and Batman himself.
Jason, noticing how nervous the guy was assured him that he would protect him and no one was going to hurt him as long as he was around, it was obvious he wasn't from Gotham. For some reason, his new employee blushed every time he said those words.
Danny didn't know if Red Hood understood what he was doing (That was totally a flirt for protection spirits!), every day it was getting harder and harder not to respond to him. His ghost side kept screaming that he got a good match!
Which was technically true, considering that Red Hood had promised him protection and let him stay in his haunt (it became obvious that Crime Alley was his haunt after a few days in Gotham but strangely it accepted him)
Jason continued to promise Danny that he would be safe (poor boy always looked nervous) and Danny wondered how many days he could take the blatant flirting.
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