#childe comfort/hurt | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

klausysworld · 3 months

Note

Okay so I have this idea where reader has been taking care of hope for 7 years (Hayley is like dead Marcel killed her or smt) and like in the show Marcel has klaus locked away but when the family rescues him they all come to realise that y/n has built like a whole army of werewolves/vampires just to protect hope. Klaus see’s how much she loves hope and he has loved y/n for like 12 years and hope notices this and then hope tells him that y/n has cried herself to sleep ever night because of loosing him and then obviously the rest is up to you.

This idea has been in my head for a while so I do hope you write it and if not thank you for whatever you write next 🥰🥰🥰🥰

And also sorry my description was so bad but I forgot to say smut would be greatly appreciated ❤️❤️❤️❤️

Family

Y/n had grown up alongside Hayley in the foster care system. They were adopted together and thrown out together. They were loyal to one another no matter the consequences and would follow the other to the ends of the earth.

Y/n hadn't batted an eye at the idea of living with the most dangerous family in the world, if Hayley was going then so would she. She showed her devotion to the unborn Mikaelson and quickly gained the attention and respect of the originals.

Elijah appreciated her love and protective characteristics over her family, Hayley and the baby. Rebekah liked that it didn't matter who said what about her, whether they claimed she was a useless human or nothing more than something to eat, she wouldn't back down form a fight. Klaus had originally thought her to be a little foolish with her confidence and need to help but he found that she knew what she was doing, she was persuasive and intelligent.

When the witches first killed Hayley and took the new born baby, Y/n had pushed aside the grief and the pain from Hayleys death. Niklaus and Elijah could see the horror in her eyes but she told them to get up and find the baby, and they did. Thankfully Hayley returned, as a hybrid, and Hope survived.

Y/n was happy for them to compel her to believe Hope was dead but Klaus interjected and said that he didn't believe it to be necessary. That was when Elijah knew that his brother had placed his trust in Y/n.

The Mikaelson brothers watched as Y/n stayed beside Hayley no matter how much she yelled, screamed, cried, killed. Despite Hope not dying, Hayley still felt the pain of loss. It was easy for her to take it out on Y/n, to bring up her past family and to push at all her buttons but Y/n never gave in. She ignored it even when Klaus and Elijah would get involved, sometimes Hayley would have said something particularly hurtful and one of the brothers would intervene, yelling at Hayley to go calm down and offering some sort of comfort to Y/n but she wouldn't accept it.

There was one occasion when Hayley had bitten Y/n, her humanity was almost gone and she had attacked her bestest friend. Klaus had gone ballistic. Elijah had healed Y/n though she insisted it wasn't that bad while Klaus finally managed to scream some sense into Hayley.

Apologies were made and accepted before finally they were all able to go see Hope.

Y/n hadn't ever had a family, even when she was adopted with Hayley they only took Y/n because Hayley wouldn't go without her. So when Rebekah pulled the camera out for a family photo, Y/n made her way inside but Klaus had noticed and went to get her.

A gentle hand was placed on her shoulder to gain her attention as he guided her back to the others and promised her that she was their family now. Rebekah had been ecstatic and pulled Y/n to her side as Klaus held up the camera and they all smiled.

From then onwards Y/n would bond with Hope more and more. Hayley had sat with her and they had agreed that should anything ever happen to Hayley, that Y/n would never leave Hope alone. There was absolutely no convincing needed with this arrangement.

Over the next year witches, wolves and vampires came and went. Y/n stayed with the Mikaelsons and befriended the wolves, Jackson especially as he was to marry her adopted sister. She stood beside Klaus at the wedding, holding Hope and watching as the baby's eyes glowed gold in unison. Klaus was just looking at Y/n, listening as Hayley and Jackson recited their vows and imagined those words of love coming from his own lips.

After, Y/n went down to celebrate and Klaus managed to get a dance with her after Elijah finally pushed him to. Something about the other just felt right. It brought a warmth that only held safety and admiration. Like home.

Y/n began to see Klaus as home. When Hayley spent so many nights in the bayou, it was Klaus that she spent her time with and Klaus who always came to seek her out. Often he would use Hope as an excuse to be around her, Hope loved Y/n very much and was always eager to see her. Klaus was even more eager to take her.

But then Lucien arrived, along with Tristan and Aurora. They ruined everything.

Y/n became a vampire, Finn was killed once again and the Mikaleons were faced with peril.

Everything happened within the blink of an eye. Rebekah was hexed and the brothers bitten and Freya poisoned. Klaus was locked away for his violent acts and the others were linked to his life and hidden away in their coffins. And then Hayley, she had gone to Marcel angry and threatening and never returned.

That left Y/n with Hope and a truck full of almost-dead Mikaelsons. She was lost for the first year with Hope. She had lost everything. Everyone.

But when Hope would wrap her little arms around her and whimper for Y/n to not be sad, she knew that she needed to pull through.

It took a lot of effort. Y/n used Marcels tactics and started turning her own vampires, earning their trust and their devotion. She offered them a new life, she sold vampirism well and convinced dozens that this was the way for them. She began to train them, she began to trust them.

There was an inner circle that knew her well and were allowed to see Hope and go inside the house to protect her and the others had a fair amount of freedom however if they wanted daylight rings then they would have to help find the ingredients to heal the Mikaelsons.

It took far longer than she would have liked, 5 years but she did it. And one by one, Freya, Kol, Elijah and Rebekah were awake and healed. It didn't take long for them to come to understand the lengths to which Y/n had gone through.

They learnt of Hayleys death and they watched as vampires came to Y/n with updates on Klaus's position. A couple of her vampires had gone undercover into Marcels territory to get an idea of Klaus's situation. It was because of this that the other Mikaelsons were able to get in easier while Y/n went to her home to see Hope now that she was back form school.

Hope saw Y/n as her mother. Of course she knew everything about Hayley, Y/n old her countless stories and made sure that Hope knew that Hayley was her mother but Hope didn't truly remember Hayley the way Y/n had thought she would. To Hope, Y/n had always looked after her and loved her so often she would call Y/n her mommy or her ma without meaning to and Y/n could never respond, unsure as to whether she was doing something wrong by being Hopes mother. But she also couldn't deny Hope and so wouldn't upset her little girl by telling her that she wasn't allowed to call her that.

So she sat down with Hope when they were having their dinner and told her that their family was coming back in the early hours of the morning. Y/n had made sure to tell Hope stories of each of the Mikaelsons and showed various pictures, Klaus especially was mentioned. "That's your Dad remember?" Y/n would whisper when they snuggled up on Hopes bed and flicked through the photos.

Sometimes Y/n would sleep beside Hope or the other way around. Hope knew that Y/n didn't sleep much, she worried so much and became sad when Hope wasn't with her. Many times Hope had asked if Y/n loved her Dad and every time Y/n would nod "He means very much to me" she would tell her and Hope would smile and hold Y/n's hand.

"He'll come back soon Mommy, don't worry" she would whisper and Y/n would sniff and nod, pulled Hope close and closing her eyes.

When Hope was told that he father was finally coming home, she was excited for both herself and for Y/n. It took hours for her to get to sleep and Y/n had to take her back to bed nearly 10 times before she stayed in bed.

It was deep into the night when the door knocked, Y/n had fallen asleep against with her head against the kitchen table but thankfully had given Freya a key before they left for Klaus. They all made their way inside and softened at the sigh of Y/n passed out with her phone infront of her. Klaus was battered and weak but made his way over to her and knelt down to the floor so that he could pull her down to his embrace. She woke as she was taken from her seat and found herself in his hold. Tears streamed within seconds and she wrapped herself within him until little footsteps were heard and everyone's attention was on the doorway.

Y/n got up quickly, pulling away from Klaus who stared at the doorway with a level of fear. He didn't want his daughter to see him for the first time while he was dirty, bloody and broken.

"Mommy?" The sleepy voiced called, Hope had just come into sight while rubbing her eyes when Y/n quickly picked her up. They all listened as she gently hushed Hope and took her back to bed.

"What's wrong baby?" She asked softly, while tucking Hope into bed. She kissed her head and slipped Hope's wolf teddy under her arm.

"Are they here yet?" Hope whispered and Y/n hesitated. She knew Hope wouldn't sleep if she knew they were there and she knew that the Mikaelsons needed a moment to recover.

"Soon" She told Hope. "They'll be here when you wake in the morning I promise." She murmured and she stroked her face and Hope whispered goodnight.

Y/n came back down and spoke quietly.

"There's enough beds upstairs each of you, you might have to share a room for the night but it's better than a coffin. There's two showers, wait fifteen minutes so Hope goes to sleep before turning them on otherwise the noise will wake her up. We'll sort everything in the morning." She muttered, somehow a hardened exterior was around her now and they all picked up on it. She spoke to them now in an almost professional manner, like she didn't know them. As they all made their way up the stairs and watched as she checked on Hope, closed her door and made her way to her own room, they wondered how hard the past five years had been for her.

The next morning they woke to a stack of blood beside each of them bar Freya who had a cup of coffee waiting. They drank before getting dressed and heading downstairs.

Y/n and Hope were both already there, sprawled out on the sofas and eating from a bowl of berries while watching the TV. Kol was the first to clear his throat making Hope's head shoot up. Her confidence diminished quickly and she was hiding behind Y/n as she got up.

Y/n pointed to the fridge and cupboards, "If you're hungry you can find everything there, I've set up phones for you all so they're on the table. Theres a couple guys outside but they're just here to make sure nobody else is so you can check the garden if you need. Cars are coming in the afternoon to relocate now that you're awake and we have an interview with a school for Hope tomorrow morning so we need to get a full nights sleep and leave by 4pm latest this afternoon." She told them while lifting Hope from the sofa and placing her by the backdoor. "Paints are outside" she whispered to Hope who nodded and ran out to her art table in the garden.

The Mikaelsons each took their new phone and grabbed something to eat before sitting down while Klaus went to the window to watch his daughter from afar. Y/n went back to the kitchen and started washing plates when Elijah came beside her and placed a hand on her back.

"You know that you are our family Y/n" he whispered to her, concerned that she may think otherwise, "even with Hayley gone" he added faintly and she nodded. "I understand you've taken the role as Hopes mother-"

"I haven't. Hayley's her mom, Hope knows that she just slips up" She snapped back and Elijah frowned at the aggression.

"I didn't mean it as a negative thing." He replied softly, "Hayley would love that you are so close to Hope, she had told me all those years ago that you were as much Hopes mother as she was. You have always been her mother, none of us would take that from you."

Y/n sniffled at the thought of Hayley's permission almost and Elijah brought her into his embrace. He had been taking care of his family for centuries, he had the best understanding of what she was going through and he never wanted her to think that they would take Hope away from her just because Hayley was gone.

Meanwhile, Klaus had plucked the courage to go outside and sit with his daughter. He painted alongside her in a comfortable silence while nature danced around them until Y/n came outside and called for lunch. The scene made Klaus think of a movie or a sweet story and Hope smiled and jumped from her seat and tugged Klaus inside for food. He chuckled and followed, obediently sitting beside his little girl while Y/n went on the other side of her. Elijah and Y/n had prepared a simple but homey pasta dish to fill everyone before they needed to leave.

It was during lunch that Hope took notice of how her father glanced and gazed at her mother figure. Part of her was happy for them that they had found their way back and she could have that picture perfect family she had dreamed of for years but the other part of her pushed that idea away. She feared that perfect reality and quickly became upset with the thought of it all.

Y/n could see Hope stressing and took her outside to talk to her. Rebekah tried to comfort Klaus as he sat in a pained silence with the thought that his daughter didn't like him enough.

They didn't speak of it as they divided up into cars and drove to another state, to a suburban area where they had their own homes and new starts. Rebekah was excited, Freya was apprehensive, Kol decided to go his own way but to keep in touch, Elijah was willing to go wherever was seen as safest and Klaus would follow Hope and Y/n wherever they may go.

When Y/n handed him the keys to his own house he frowned, he didn't want to be by himself. He never had. Y/n had asked Hope if she would want to stay primarily at her dads but she wasn't so sure as she didn't really know him anymore.

The separate house arrangement lasted no longer than a week before Klaus was insisting they get a big house they could all stay in. Freya and Rebekah got a smaller house together, Elijah got himself an apartment close by but a little further out and Klaus moved in with Y/n and Hope after getting upset and Y/n understanding his needs.

He had his own room but he never wanted to be in it. He wanted to be in Y/n's, he wanted her and she wouldn't let him. Hope slowly got used to the idea but Y/n pulled away from it despite the ache in her heart that called for him.

Klaus soon believed that she truly didn't feel anything more than that friendship/family bond that she had with his siblings but Hope made sure he knew the truth one night when they were watching a movie and Y/n was out sorting out some vampires that apparently worked for her with both confused and impressed the Mikaelsons.

"I know you love my mom" She told him as they both kept their eyes on the TV, not daring to look at the other as this particular topic arose. Klaus cleared his throat and smacked his lips together but she didn't give him a chance to respond. "She told me she loves you too. Lots of times actually" she quipped and Klaus stared at the screen intensley. "But she won't tell you because she doesn't want to make it weird or make a mistake" she told him.

"She thinks it would be a mistake?" He asked, mentally cursing himself for the childish behaviour he was giving into.

"No...I don't know...She just loves you a lot and she'd be sad again if it didn’t work and I don’t want her to be sad again…” she trailed and Klaus glanced to her.

“Again?” He whispered, wondering if she had been with another man in the years they were apart and it hadn’t worked.

“She used to cry a lot” Hope mumbled, feeling guilty for telling Klaus about it. “Sometimes she would cry in her sleep too” she added and Klaus frowned, wrapping an arm around Hope and pulling her into a hug as she got upset. “She missed you” she whimpered and Klaus nodded, kissing Hopes head and wiping the tears from under her eyes. “She needs you” she told him on a small, strained voice.

Klaus rubbed her back and stroked her hair while Hope cried and let out all her worries for her mother and all the times she had seen her distraught. Klaus told her how he should have been there for them and promised that he would never leave them alone, never let them suffer again.

They ended the night on a lighter note, managed to pull a few laughs and smiled form each to her before Klaus tucked Hope into bed and found her wolf teddy for her. He then sat and told her of how one day she would get to be a wolf if she wanted and would be able to run freely, he told her how he felt when he was in his wolf form and how much he knew she would love it.

Once she fell asleep he went to his room and waited for the sound of the front door to clothes and footsteps up the floor before he came out. He stepped out from his doorway in only a pair of sleep pants, his eyes landed on Y/n and his brows rose. Her face was splattered with dried blood and her hands covered in it. She looked back at him but didn’t utter a word, just went straight for the bathroom.

Klaus followed her quickly and closed the door behind them so that Hope wouldn’t see Y/n looking so dishevelled.

“What happened?” He whispered as she tried to shimmy out of her clothes without touching anything else. He leaned over and clicked the shower on.

“It’s nothing” she mumbled, peeling her shirt from her skin leaving her in just her bra and panties as her jeans lay in a puddle on the floor. Klaus frowned and his hand cupped her face but she pushed it away. “Go away I need to shower” she muttered as she unhooked her bra and he sighed before walking out and staring at the bathroom door as she scrubbed the blood away.

He waited for her to come back out before pestering her again. Demanding to know where she was, what she was doing, who she was doing it to or with. Eventually she snapped and told him it was for Hope. She told him that people had been trying to kill her or take her all of the time, no matter how many spells were on her to protect her. So she had to get rid of the few people who knew their location and also make new vampires near where they were to ensure security.

Klaus didn’t know how to feel.

Before, she was strong headed but she had never been a killer. She did what she had to but she was still emotional and compassionate. He blamed himself, he wanted her to be a Mikaelson and she had become one. She acted like one, she loved like one, she was one.

“I can do that for you, for Hope” he told her gently and she couldn’t help the scoff that left her making him sigh. “Love, we’re here now, it isn’t your job to fight anymore” he argued and she glared at him.

“It was never my job.” She bit, “I did it because I wanted to. I do it because I want to. Hope is safe because of me, you are all safe because of me and I will keep it that way because even after a thousand years you lot still wind up dead time and time again!” She sneered, her vampiric features displaying across her face as her anger rose.

Klaus stared at her as she glared at him, she was mad and he knew that. She had been saving her rage for five years. She was mad that they left her alone, she was mad they let Hayley die not once but twice. She was mad that they hadn’t listened to her all those years ago, she was mad she became a vampire because of them. She was mad that she had never been given an easy option since the day she met them. She was mad and she needed to express it and if there was something Klaus was good at, it was expressing his rage.

So he pushed her, hard. Y/n stumbled back and felt herself tik. She flew back at him roughly, causing him to hit straight back against the wall with a wince before going back to her and shoving her. He only put his hands on her a couple more times before her hands were swinging and her nails clawed at him. He whispered for her to keep going, to get it out as she cried and hit at him. She told him all the things she hated about him and his family. All the things he had put her through and all the struggle she had with Hope. Having to look after a Mikaelson witch with werewolf anger and vampire strength was not something anyone was equipped for but Y/n, a newly turned vampire was certainly not.

Eventually she was too exhausted to keep going. Klaus was on the floor, propped up against the door with his bloodied arm around her shoulders as she curled against him and sobbed. His face and body slowly healed, as he panted for air and rest his head against hers.

After a while she calmed down and realised how much she had hurt him and started crying for the pain she had caused. Klaus told her he had wanted her to so it was okay but she hated herself for it either way. They ended up back in the bathroom, taking separate showers again before heading back out and being in a better mood. They kissed each other on the cheek goodnight and went to bed.

The next morning Y/n was lighter on her feet, she already seemed more relaxed and settled. Less on edge wondering when she would explode with anger. Hope gave Klaus a weird look and asked if they finally admitted they loved each other but he shook his head and she shrugged. Y/n was happy so Hope was happy.

Klaus and Y/n took Hope to her school before going back home and digging up the garden to start planting herbs and flowers. Some had magical properties and some didn’t. Klaus handled the vervain and Y/n handled the wolvesbane before they went inside and started making lunch only for them to get bored and decide to go out instead.

They went down to a small cafe and just ended up having sandwiches and cake anyway but at were happy that they didn’t have to make it themselves.

After they headed back home they cleaned up the house and discussed Hopes upcoming birthday. Y/n told him about her past birthdays and presents and showed him pictures from the last few years.

Weeks went by, Klaus and Y/n became the power parents they had both hoped they would be and Hope finally had the family she wanted.

Hope however started to get annoyed. She just needed them to give in and be together. So she started making hints. But apparently they weren’t strong enough so she went with being direct.

“Would you two just kiss already? Stop staring at each other!” She yelled from the kitchen, knowing they were glancing to one another while the film played in the background. Y/n blushed pink and Klaus cleared his throat, getting up and grabbing Hope. He spun her around and tickled her sides, whispering for her to shut her mouth while she squirmed and giggled.

It happened on many occasions that Hope would just tell them to get on with it. Klaus would watch for Y/n’s reaction waiting for her to give him the okay.

It was late one night when she finally did. It was just them downstairs, Hope was over at a friend’s house for a sleepover so just the two of them were watching usual Saturday night television. They were cuddled up with a blanket around them when Y/n leaned her head back and gave him a look. His brows briefly furrowed as he tried to decipher it before a tense silence overcame them. Both daring the other to do it.

Klaus caved first, leaning down and pressing his mouth to hers. Their lips moved in unison and Y/n’s hands went to his hair, tugging him onto her. The soft, wet sounds of their mouths filled the small amount of air between them as he pushed her down against the sofa and slid his hands under her thighs, hiking her legs up and round his waist.

Y/n stroked her hands round his face, her fingers memorising every detail of his face. Her thumbs brushed over his ears and down his neck while her tongue wrapped around his. Klaus slid his hands up and under her shirt, gliding along her skin to her bra. His fingers teased the lace making her pull her mouth from his and tug her shirt over her head.

Klaus kissed her lips again softly before pressing his own to her chest. Her hand cupped the back of his head, her eyes following his lips as they kissed and sucked down the valley between her breasts slowly. His other hand slid beneath her to unhook her bra and pull it off her arms.

She breathed heavily, looking up at him with lustrous eyes.

“You look so gorgeous” he murmured as he lowered his head to wrap his lips round one of her nipples. Y/n moaned softly as it pebbled against his tongue and her back arched to push her breasts against his face. He groaned softly and squeezed them both in his hands while his mouth teased them both interchangeably.

Y/n moaned his name and lifted his Henley over his head and slid her hands down his chest while his fingers picked at the button on her jeans. She helped drag them off her legs and quickly got her hands onto his. He kicked his own off and pressed himself back against her.

Their mouths were back against each other in a heated frenzy and his erection pressed against his boxers and then against her panties. She moaned against him and thrust her hips up to feel him. Klaus moved his lips down to her jaw and nipped at the skin while his hand made its way down to her stomach.

"Klaus" she whispered breathlessly as she pulled her lips off his and looked down to where his fingers brushed along the soft material of her underwear.

"Please" he uttered. It was an unexpected word for him to say but it made her eyes shimmer as she looked up at him. He leaned down to kiss her once again and she allowed herself to melt into it as he slowly dragged her panties down and off her legs. His hands brushed back up her thighs and she didn't resist when he guided them open and flat against the bed.

Klaus gently stroked his fingers along her pussy lips. Klaus groaned softly as they slid through her wetness and found her clit. Y/n let out a small gasp and pulled her head back, Klaus looked down at her as the back of her head pressed against the couch. Their eyes locked as the pad of his finger rubbed little circles against her clit. He watched in lust and fascination as her breathing escalated and her eyes watered while she tried to keep them open and focused on him.

"I missed you so much" he admitted quietly while pushing a finger into her entrance. Y/n let out a sweet cry that made the desire within him swirl and spike. His finger curled inside her perfectly, his thumb continued to pet her bundle of nerves until her body couldn't help but grind against his hand and his lips pressed a row of kisses along her throat.

"Klaus" she repeated with a moan and he smiled against her skin.

"I thought of you every day" he whispered as another finger began to thrust inside her with each precise flick of his wrist.

"You did?" she whimpered, her heart swelling with love and bashfulness. He nodded with a soft look in his eyes and pumped his fingers deeper into her until the breath was taken from her lungs.

"You were always right there in my mind. You brought me peace" he told her and she moaned weakly. Her hands squeezes at the sheets below her as her eyes shut. Klaus's fingers thrust and curled beautifully to meet the sensitive point that made her toes curl and her pussy clench tightly. "You saved me from myself" he whispered as his lips trailed down the front of her body again, a little quicker this time. His thumb brushed over her clit before his tongue replaced it.

Y/n's body arched in delight and her legs quivered as the soft heat of his mouth caressed her cunt. His tongue swirled around her sensitive bud as his fingers picked up the pace. His eyes closed as the addictive taste of her soaked onto his tongue. Her body arched and tensed with each flick of his tongue and a cry of desperation bounced off the walls as her orgasm pulsed through her. Klaus groaned softly as her pussy quivered and weeped around his fingers. He carefully, gently pulled his fingers out from her and used his mouth to clean her up.

He kissed his way back up her body to her lips and kissed her deeply, swallowing her weak moans of satisfaction and caressing his hands up along her skin. Y/n's hands brushed through his curls gently making them fluff up. Klaus pulled back and looked down at her with a genuine smile and let out a small chuckle when he felt his hair frizz.

She gazed back at him almost shyly. She had wanted him to touch her like that for so long. Too many years of longing. Raising Hope had taken away from any social life she could have had the past five years but even if Hope hadn't been a priority, Y/n only thought of Klaus like that. She could't believe that he had seen her so bare and vulnerable after all those years, touched and tasted her like she dreamed he would.

Klaus could see the thoughts dancing through her mind and slowly stroked her hair as he let her daze float over her. He pulled her to his body, wrapping her in his arm and laying with her for a bit. This was something he didn't want to push or rush. He just wanted to soak this up and be with her forever.

Y/n lay on top his body as they rest against the couch. A blanket draped over them while their eyes watched the screen before them. They were both nearly asleep but neither wanted to move so they stayed there the whole night.

By morning they were back up and getting ready to get Hope from her friends. Hope's eyes narrowed on them as soon as she got in the car, a small smile creeping onto her lips as she saw their entwined hands while they drove home.

When she got home she gave her mother a smile before offering a discreet thumbs up to her dad which made him chuckle and shake his head as she starting making kissey faces and running up the stairs giggling.

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sakkiichi · 9 months

Text

HERE COMES THE SUN.

They comfort you while you’re having a difficult time.

ft. Childe, Lyney, Albedo, Shikanoin Heizou x gn! reader.

cw/genre: hurt/comfort.

for my dear @https-furina I know you’ve been going through trying times lately, so I hope this can comfort you a little <3 I also struggled a lot with Heizou’s part, so I apologize if it’s no good at all…

if you enjoy this, reblogs and comments help more than likes !

✧ CHILDE

Linen sheets feel like ropes on raw skin against the morning chill.

Its warm cream color, ashen, nothing like the mirror sunrises you were used to witnessing right after you opened your eyes.

What’s the point in opening them anymore? You wonder.

You bury your face against the pillows. In any other occasion, you would have been grateful for the coolness of its silk.

Now it’s just an iceberg. Like a missing shard of your shallow beating heart.

“Someone’s sleepy today.” A familiarly perky voice greets, the mattress dipping slightly with new weight.

You rolling in the other direction is all the greeting that meets him.

“Hey, love! It’s time to wake up!” Childe chuckles, his hand gently shaking your body.

Yet something already tells him this is not right; you usually would have already shoved him away by now.

But today you’re just… unresponsive…

The dull oceans of his stare rise in dangerous waves at your state.

Hesitant, he calls your name, his tone more like a question.

And this time, he does get an answer.

Familiar arms he adores wrapped around him loop around his middle, your face burying against his chest.

You’re warm, yet you feel so… faraway… as if the pain of past memories was seeping out your light.

Ajax is no stranger to the despair palpable in your strong grip around him, he’s endured it himself, through years robbed of him by an abyss that turned him into a master of all weapons.

So because he’s known the cold of endless nights where all he had was a tattered red scarf to remember the warmth of a distant home, he now holds you.

And for someone whose hands were tainted in the filth and bloodshed of a lifetime of slaughter, Ajax is undeniably gentle.

His fingertips ghost over your skin, easing the burning anguish of bed covers that felt too rough, too suffocating, too wrong.

When your lover’s hands get lost in your hair, combing it, you swear sun rays filter through the deep sea you’re falling through.

And then, suddenly, the choice to swim upwards presents before you, scarred sun-kissed hands extended towards you.

You take them.

When you open your eyes, russet sunsets and constellations over your beloved’s skin greet you.

His lips find yours, a bit chapped but gentle; not his usual playfulness, but soothing aquamarine waves.

You swear Childe’s kiss tastes salty. And that’s when you realize the dry tear-tracks down your cheeks.

He made them dry, sunlight evaporating puddles after grey days.

You break the surface, the waters now turquoise beneath Ajax’s light.

He won’t let you sink again.

✧ LYNEY

A whole audience’s cheers fill the Opera Epiclese. Lights shine upon every smiling face, every vigourous clap of hands after the magician’s grand finale echoing through the theater.

However, the illusionist’s gaze of amethyst is focused on the sole grim expression amongst millions of joyous others.

Yours.

Your hands move, clapping together, as if automated; your eyes stare at everything, seeing nothing; your mouth is a taut line, your lips devoid of their usual vibrant tint.

Lyney doesn’t like that being his last memory before the curtain closes.

When you step out of the Opera House, an infinity of starfields is abloom across the crepuscular skies.

What a mockery; a cruel jinx on display, for you to see the unfulfilled sparks dimming inside your heart.

A sigh escapes your dry lips, a small cloud forming when it meets the late night chill.

“You’ll catch a cold there, mon coeur,” Someone you know, tricks and all, utters behind you.

Welcome warmth tinted in lavender envelops you the instant your eyes meet the magician’s starry ones.

A small smile tugs at your lips, the curse of melancholy still clinging to you through it.

“Lyney…” You start. The twilit breeze picks up around you, your arms instinctively wrapping around yourself for some semblance of a warmth you haven’t felt in days.

“That won’t do, ma chérie.” Your lover chuckles.

Then, with a wave of his hand, a piece of the night sky itself seems to become tangible in his grasp.

“Here,” he offers, draping it over your shoulders.

Upon closer inspection, you realize it’s a shawl; the cloth feels delicate to the touch, quite fine too, and yet, you feel the warmth of a thousand suns. If you had to describe its color you would come up empty. Silver glitter seems to be embedded in the fabric, but at the same time, it looks like multiple tiny lights had been stitched to the material. You suppose you’d call the hue, dark; a myriad of indigoes merge into violets, threaded together with navies and cobalts. And yet, when you move it, the colors seem to shift, almost like the clouds drifting across this midnight.

“I take it you liked it.” Lyney smiles, softer than his usual cheshire-like grins, when he observes your wonderstruck features.

“Very…” You muse, awestruck at the magical silk.

“It’s a châle de ciel,” your beloved explains, “It will change depending on the state of the sky at each time of day.” He pauses, eyes, the color of lumidouce bells and rainbow rose petals merged, glinting as he admires how the garment fits you. “But I can guarantee,” your illusionist steps closer to you, plucking something out of your hair. “That it will always keep you comfortable… warm or cool, whatever you need.” He finishes, handing you a pluie lotus.

You take a few seconds to appreciate the second gift of the night. The flower’s petals are the same color as Lyney’s eyes, yet not as vivacious.

“Shall we go, mon amour?” Your boyfriend inquires, already offering your arm to him.

Together, you leave the opera house behind.

You hope for light blues on your new cape tomorrow morning. And somehow, you know that’s what you’ll find.

You squeeze Lyney’s arm gently. The sun will rise soon.

✧ ALBEDO

When he sets foot on his camp in Dragonspine, Albedo finds the heater already on.

Strange.

The sun hasn’t even quite awoken yet, the snowy peaks outlined against skies still clinging to dreamless cloudy nights; shards of ice, embedded in the softness of dawn clouds. An accurate representation of the region of freedom’s snowy mountains: menacingly beautiful, brimming with lethal charm, for one step in the wrong direction, and the cold might as well consume you for good.

At this hour, no one was ever already working at his lab, making of these moments calm sunrise-tinted memories in the alchemist’s mind, before the day’s hustle and bustle began.

However, today, the running heater is not the only out of the ordinary salutation to greet the chalk prince.

The acute sounds of clicking vials, books being rearranged and crunching snow are confirmation enough that he is, indeed, not alone.

With silent steps, Albedo advances, keeping one hand hovering over his trusty sword. Then, he finally lays eyes upon the cause for the commotion, and despite the lack of danger, the sight doesn’t calm him any better.

“My dearest?” He calls. The instant your gaze meets his, your condition scares him more than any bandits ransacking his research material. Your hair is messy, falling on your face; dark circles are etched beneath your lower lashline, darkness clinging to you like remnants of turbulent nights; and you’re shivering, whether from the cold or because you’re distempered he can’t quite discern, although it’s most likely due to both.

“Hello, ‘Bedo…” You mutter, the flesh of your lips bitten, flecks of Dragonspine’s freeze coating them, the cold lacing with your bones, chilling you to the core. Your eyes widen when you notice your lover’s teal gaze scrutinizing you. You quickly busy yourself with classifying some potions, by color and texture, whatever takes the longest for him not to worry about your less than ideal condition.

However, perhaps you underestimated his attention to detail; for he has a skilled artist, after all.

“My love, are you feeling alright?” He questions, gloved hands gently taking the crystal vial-filled wooden box you were carrying off your trembling hold.

And in that instant, you don’t know if it’s the warmth of your prince’s hands on yours; or the comfort of his voice, like honey on bitter tea, but you find yourself taking a deep breath, the fresh air of a midwinter’s sunrise filling your lungs.

And then you talk. You spill every worry and bad dream, your shadows opening up to the gilded starlight of him.

And through it all, the alchemist’s hands warm yours, fingers interlocked, very much in the way your souls are undeniably so too.

Because no matter how daunting the river seemed when you faced it alone, when you were with Albedo, its typhoons calmed down, stone bridges and his outstretched hand painting safety and comfort in hues of gold before your eyes.

While the kreideprinz grounds you, the sun reaches its peak, a canvas of aureate and cornflower blue grazing the mountaintops.

You would be okay.

✧ SHIKANOIN HEIZOU

Emerald eyes read through you as if you were made of clear glass.

The way you worry your lower lip between your teeth; your fingers almost going white at the knuckles as you clutch a pencil, its wood creaking in your grip; and the general absentminded state you’re in, papers scattered over your desk, several case files stacked in disarray.

Something is clearly weighting on your mind.

“I think a break’s in order, wouldn't you agree, sweetheart?” Heizou suggests, standing up, those striking eyes of his fixed on you.

The detective’s voice is enough to stop the quickening clock ticking in your mind, regrets and dark spirals momentarily coming to a halt.

When you rise your furrowed brow, shades of maroon and viridian flood your sight, vivid as summer and warming your up just as much.

Nodding, you stand up too, limbs feeling heavy despite the comfort of your lover beside you.

The brown shades of your office turn into blue skies and soft pink sakuras not long after, the scented tree branches swaying above you, like fragments of dreams someone had given up on, waiting to be picked up by another soul who dared to imagine.

Your back rests against your lover’s lean but strong torso, the sweet smelling breeze combing through your hair, as Heizou’s chin rests on your shoulder.

“So will you tell me what’s wrong, darling?” Are the words of his that break the birdsong-filled calm.

A pang settles on your chest, you didn’t want to take away that cheeky grin that most of the time decorated his quick-witted lips.

“I…” You hesitate. “Well, it’s- it’s complicated, Heizou…” Your lids flutter closed, a shaky breath raking through you, as you turn around in his embrace, your hands bracing on his shoulders. “I don’t want to bring the mood down, you know…”

The detective places a thumb on your lower lip, smoothing over the bite marks you left there earlier.

“You never, ever, bring the mood down, dear. Never.” He leans in, brushing a soft kiss over your forehead. “My intuition told me right away there was something up.” He takes a stray cherry blossom petal from your hair. “So, why don’t we take the rest of the day off, love?” Your partner proposes, as he takes your chin in between his fingers, mischief flashing in his features.

And perhaps your lover’s smile was more infectious than you had ever given it credit for; and maybe the way he flashes his green eyes at you has your heart trembling in ways that have nothing to do with the fear and guilt you’ve been festering, but you find yourself retorting back, with a grin of your own:

“Don’t you have cases to solve, detective Shikanoin?”

This time, he takes a full sakura flower, delicately placing it behind your ear.

“I have something more important to solve right here…” He smirks, cheekily, as he admires your now flustered expression.

When you lean the side of your head against his chest, he cradles it with one of his hands, the other playing with the ends of your hair.

It would be unfair, if gloom were to take your soul captive when spring seems to linger through Inazuma’s breeze.

With a last look at you, the detective’s maroon lashes flutter closed too. He hopes, at least for today, he managed to protect precious you from the crimes of cruel sorrow.

He leans his head on top of yours.

The case is solved.

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writing-in-glitter-pen · 9 months

Text

II Childe’s Anger II

There's a darker side to Childe that he never lets you see. The wild temper he struggles to keep under lock and key in your presence. You were his everything, his one and only, his family---so when he almost loses you, that temper snaps forward like a venemous snake.

childe x fem!reader II angst, hurt/comfort.

word count: 2,865 cash money

content warnings: Descriptions of anger (mention of throwing things but not at reader or in reader's presence), descriptions of injury.

It doesn't matter how angry you make him or how horrible what you've done is, Childe can always be swayed by you. You could tear off his right arm then sell it for pocket change and he'd still only be able to resist your honeyed words and doe-eyed pleas for about a minute. He just turns into a goofy-faced pile of mush at any hint of romantic attention you give him, no matter how long you’ve been a couple. Usually, if you've pissed him off, all it takes for him to forgive you is a couple sweet cooings about how he's your favorite man in the world and that you'll only ever belong to him. Hearing those promises from you lights his skin on fire, and he just can't help himself from taking your wrist and tugging you up to his lips. But this time…this time you've really done something unforgivable…

You put yourself in danger.

The night before was a good night; you’d made dinner for Childe, you two snuggled on the couch, you watched a movie on the television he’d gotten from a trip to Fontaine—it was sweet and romantic and relaxing…

Until you brought up a sore subject.

While snuggled up in his lap, cheek resting on his chest, him all but purring in content and happiness, you found it the appropriate time to bring up your intentions for tomorrow.

“Ajax…", they way you sweetly say his birth name never fails to make him melt, "There’s a commission up for grabs at the Adventurer's Guild…someone is lost in the chasm and they want an adventurer to conduct the search.”

“Hmm that’s nice.”, he hummed absentmindedly, resting his chin on the top of your head and hugging you just a little tighter. He has a habit of getting too absorbed into movies; it’s actually quite cute—watching his awe-struck face and twinkling eyes on the screen. He’s like an excited little kid, lost in the movie and the feeling of you in his arms.

“I’d like to take the job.”

Silence.

You almost thought he hadn’t heard you until he stiffly reached for the remote beside his thigh and shut off the TV completely.

“…what was that?”

Something you’ve come to learn about Childe after dating him for so long is: beyond his charming, flippant character in the face of danger, and beyond his unserious approach to dire circumstances…When it comes to the protection of those he loves…he has a temper.

An easily struck temper.

“Childe. I’ll be fine. Please don’t worry abou—“

“Absolutely not. You’re not going.”, he said with that edge of finality to his voice you’ve come to be very familiar with, before standing from your shared seat and walking to the kitchen. Putting distance between you two.

Leaning over the back of the couch to look at him---not letting him escape this conversation, you argue, “It’s not your decision. I wasn’t asking. I was letting you know.”.

Normally, you’d be more gentle with your reasoning—carefully explain the safety measures you’ll take and advocate for your skills as an adventurer. But, after playing out this scene with Childe a countless number of times…

No, you can’t go there. No, you can’t do that. Treating you like a toddler that can’t handle herself...

You had, understandably, grown tired of it.

Even from the meters of space between you two, you could see the telltale signs of Childe’s unsavory, protective side rearing it’s head. The set of his jaw, the way he white-knuckles the edge of the counter he’s leaning on…the way he won’t look at you.

There was a long silence between you two—Childe a menacing statue in your kitchen. You weren’t sure if he was even breathing.

You sat there for what felt like ages—starting to get worried about if Childe was ok…would his knuckles break from how hard he’s holding onto that counter?

Finally, he spoke, his voice caught between a breathy exhale and a rumbling growl.

“If you try to go…

…I will keep you in this house until the commission is over.”

You knew he would.

Even with his demanding job, he’d find a way.

So you had no choice but to relent.

“Ok…I won’t go.”

Childe hated being like this—he hated imposing on you, hated the way he reacted to these sorts of things. He couldn’t keep his cool.

But it’s your safety. You're his family now, the most precious thing in the world to him—if anything happened to you…he’d lose himself. He’d go mad and burn every inch of this world down. It would be worthless garbage if you weren't in it.

So he had to be like this. He had to protect you. At any cost. Even if it upsets you, even if it makes you hate him, he’ll keep doing it. As long as he lives, he’ll put himself right between you and any threat—even if it displeases you. Even if he knows you can handle it yourself. Childe doesn’t take risks when it comes to you.

He felt guilty. And when he feels guilty he goes quiet, and distant. His vices are embedded within him—even if he apologizes, they won’t go away. It’s hard to apologize for...yourself. And it’s even harder for him to apologize for himself to you—the beautiful, endlessly loving, perfect person...who made the mistake of wandering into this controlling monster’s life.

You didn’t believe that, but he did.

So he went to his office.

And stayed there the rest of the night.

———

He wasn’t in bed with you when you woke up, when you turned over to reach for him only to get a fistful of cold sheets.

He wasn’t there when you checked his office, either.

...so he didn’t notice when you left to take the commission.

He may be your boyfriend, but he wasn’t your warden. He couldn’t control your actions or tell you what to do. Especially after losing his cool and leaving you to sleep alone last night. If he was just going to disappear on you, then you could disappear on him.

…you knew it was horrible reasoning, but you were too stubborn to turn back.

And what do you know? Horrible reasoning leads to horrible outcomes.

You got hurt. And not hurt like the usual cuts and scrapes you get on your dailies. No. Real hurt. You-could’ve-lost-your-life hurt.

All you had to do today was a quick check in with the search party, a little reconnaissance, and then you’re back before Childe knows it.

But during your reconnaissance, your glider was torn by a stalagmite, obscured by the darkness of the cave, causing you to land on an unsteady wooden mining structure that collapsed beneath your weight. You fell along with the rubble to the bottom of the pitch-black tunnel—your arm crushed by a wooden beam.

And you were lucky. If you hadn’t landed in a pile of corrupted muck, you could’ve died from the blunt force of the fall, but it was still killing you. Slowly. Painfully.

You were stuck, thousands of miles from the man you loved, dying, and he had no idea where you were—wondering if you’re safe. Worse, he could be out looking for you. You can picture his expression clear as day; Childe never shows terror, but when it’s you in danger, his mask falls faster than you did to the bottom of this mineshaft. You can see the fear in his wide, blue eyes. You can hear the desperation in his voice, bordering on a scream as he calls for you—his throat raspy from how long he’s been yelling for you. You can feel his heavy, labored footsteps shake the ground as he clamors around every inch of Liyue harbor in search for you. He would rather die than lose you, so his expression is that of a dying man as he searches desperately, despairingly for you. The image you know is playing out layers and layers of earth above you breaks your heart a million times over—this is your last regret. You left Childe in anger, and now he’ll never see you again.

Your vision finally faded as the corruption overtook you.

———

Childe is one to give the silent treatment, because he doesn't want to fly off the handle and say something he can't take back---so when you wake in your shared bed, your back pressed up against his chest as he holds you securely, you'll have to live through his hard gaze, his set, flexed jaw, and his silence.

“…Ajax?”

Nothing.

You try to shift but he holds you in place like a splint. And after you blink the sleep out of your eyes, you see why.

Your heavily bandaged arm is splayed out to the side of the bed; the bandages cover the various screws and other work put in by healers to preserve what they could of your arm. In your rest, Childe had been holding you still so you wouldn’t roll over and harm yourself further by moving it.

“…they don’t know if you’ll be able to use it again.”, he says, grimly. The first thing he’s said to you since you woke. He said it like it was a personal slight against him—like you broke something he loved with all of his heart. And you did. That’s exactly what you did.

“Childe…I’m so sorry.”, your voice cracks as you speak, tears quickly welling up in your eyes.

He’s silent again. His jaw looks like it might break from how hard he’s biting down on his words. You’ve never gotten the full brunt of the vitriol he’d spit if he didn’t strangle it down—but you’ve heard him give it to others.

He didn’t know you were just beyond the door of his office when he was chewing out his subordinates for a careless mistake that jeopardized an important shipment; you never knew how unforgiving and cruel you boyfriend could be before that day. The way his voice came out in a terrifying snarl, he sounded more animal than man—to the point that you couldn’t believe it was him, considered that maybe you had the wrong office, until you peeked in and saw. His wild eyes, his sharp, chaotic gesticulations, the way he threw the contents of his desk onto the ground in frustration—apathetic to if anything or any one broke. He’d always been so sweet and understanding with you, you’d never even seen him frown, but the way he spoke to those Fatui soldiers…it revealed something fundamental about him to you.

It took you a lot of time to make sense of it, a lot of thinking and insecurity and fear but you realized…the Childe you knew really was jubilant and kind, he was caring and attentive and generous…but he also really was the man you saw and heard in that office that day. The only difference was who he was talking to.

He was still your Childe. He always would be. But he was only yours. So the rest of the world got to see the ugly he hid from you. The ugly that would seep out of him—clouding his gaze in a menacing, red mist, that would turn his grip from gentle to an inescapable vice…that made him say things he didn’t mean.

So no matter what honest and loving words you utter to him, he is unresponsive, and will remain so until he's cooled down enough to organize his thoughts and deal with you.

But you don't want to wait. You don't want to go to bed with only a rigid "Goodnight." from him. After what you’d done today, you weren’t sure if he’d ever speak to you again—what if, once you healed, he’d leave? The thought horrified you. So you had to get him to speak. You had to.

Gently resting the fingertips of your working hand on the white knuckles of Childe's harshy closed fist securing your waist, you say—your voice shaky with tears but still sweet and considerate of him, "Sweetheart...would you open this for me? I'm worried you're going to hurt youself...".

From how hard he was squeezing, it was possible his nails were digging into his palm. He didn't relent at your touch, his gaze averted to the wall just past your head. That was your fault, of course, because no matter how upset you make him, you’re still the most beautiful woman in the world in his eyes. His gorgeous little girlfriend, the one he works so hard to keep safe and happy, the girl he’d do absolutely anything for. If he were to look at you, look into your beautiful doe eyes, and see those eyes full of tears? He’d lose his resolve. He’s angry with you. You did something unforgivable today. So he just couldn’t look. From the pink dusting his cheeks, you could tell he was fighting not to ogle you. Since he doesn’t open up, you slide your hand over his fist to hold it—he doesn’t stop you.

“Childe…talk to me…please?”. You sound so helpless calling out to him like that. Every instinct in his body screams to run and protect you, to respond and give you anything you need. But the only response you get from him is how he tightens his grip around you ever so slightly. Like he’s assuring himself that you’re fine—you’re safe in his arms.

“Childe…please.” the sob that caught in your throat at that please finally broke him. Brought a crack down the middle of the dam of anger and panic he had reinforced and reinforced again while you were asleep.

His voice came out in a quiet, but dangerous rumble. You felt it in your chest before you heard it.

“I don’t see why you think it’s ok to needlessly put yourself in danger like this.”

If he would’ve said anything else, you wouldn’t have argued. You knew you were in the wrong for telling him you wouldn’t go and going anyway. You knew you were in the wrong for getting hurt in a place where he couldn’t find you. You knew you were in the wrong for how you handled the whole thing.

…but you weren’t in the wrong for doing your job.

“It’s not needless, it’s my job…”, you said, gentle as possible. You weren’t going to snap at him, but this was important to you. He had to understand, “…you do the same thing…”

“You’re my girl. You don’t need a job.”

“I can’t just sit alone in the house all day.”

“Then get a safer job. Start a flower shop. I’ll pay for it.”

“Adventuring is what I’m good at. It’s what I love.”

“You’re supposed to love me!”

And there it was. He raised his voice at you.

The way you flinched did not escape his gaze.

He was a monster and he knew it. He knew he didn't deserve you but he couldn't let you go. No matter how much he told himself he only exists to your detriment...he couldn't. let. go.

Like a dragon that stays atop it's hoard even as the walls of it's cave collapse around it. Like a raccoon fishing a coin out of a small hole---no matter how hard he tries to pry both of you out, knowing you're both stuck in his grip, he can't let go.

With that, he clamped down on his jaw again, drawing his arms back from around you and getting out of bed. He broke for the door but your helpless cry cemented his feet to the floorboards.

"Please, Ajax...please don't leave me."

You were used to how Childe would run from you in guilt--the monster, Grendel, fleeing from Herot to his cave, but this time, you just couldn't brave it. You needed him right now.

He just couldn't understand how you could bear to have him in your presence.

He felt ugly, embarrassed and ashamed, but the desperate tambre in your voice told him you wanted him. Even in his worst moments, you wanted him.

So he returned to your side, kneeling at the side of the bed like a devotee, his face just before yours and his rough hand reaching our to cup your cheek---so gentle, like he was convinced you'd shatter in his grasp. His lips were held in a firm line, but his eyes were wells of love and devotion for you.

Only for you.

"Ajax...I love you."

With his deep sigh, the pressure in the room was alleviated--fresh, new oxygen renewed into the space. The tension in his knuckles, his shoulders, and his jaw was finally released. With those three words, he had melted into the Ajax you knew, your Ajax.

"I love you too."

"I'm sorry."

"I know you are."

There was a moment where you two were just, you two. Where he stroked your cheek with his thumb and gazed into your beautiful eyes--his own held that special little sparkle that was typically lost in the void. The sparkle only you get to see.

With a hum, he let's go of you and stands.

"I'll get you some food."

And with your simple nod, he left. But this time, you knew he'd be back.

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kleewie · 5 months

Text

i don’t wanna keep secrets just to keep you (and i)

summary: dating tip? just don't. for celebrities, romantic relationships are absolutely forbidden. the slightest hint of one could ruin your career. but are you even listening to the lecture? doubt it, 'cause you're doing the complete opposite. (alternatively, a celebrity au featuring secret relationships.)

→ featuring: childe, & ayato (you can really tell who my faves are)

→ warnings: angst, hurt/comfort, slight cursing, established relationship, mentions of alcohol and drinking, tension, actual cursing, unreliable reader pov, gender-neutral reader (i apologize if i missed things, i haven't proofread it yet)

→ a/n: so, hi! long time no see? i was pretty stressed with college and well, i'm back! i began writing this last year and finally got the courage to finish it. but here it is and i hope you enjoy it :> please let me know if you like it <3 it really makes my day!

credits to @dumplingsjinson for the prompts!

beware, lengthy post ahead! more under the cut!

the debut.

“forbidden?” you repeat.

“absolutely forbidden!” your manager says. “a rookie with no fanbase? a scandal will ruin your reputation! you're absolutely forbidden from dating anyone.”

you sigh. he's being too overdramatic.

you will never be in a relationship, you're absolutely sure. how can you? with no time for yourself as it is, dating someone with the limited hours you already have sounds impractical.

besides, you're too busy training and practicing for auditions.

remembering it now, you want to laugh.

i told you so, your thoughts chastise.

god, you should've listened.

childe, the actor

“that's a wrap!” the director cheers.

your eyes glisten as you hold back tears. it's embarrassing, you think. so damn embarrassing.

you've been repeating the same kissing scene multiple times now. obviously, the director cheers for finally completing the take and not because you did a good job.

childe pats your back. “you did great,” he says, with a smile.

but you know the gesture so goddamn well. the same nonchalant cold grin he throws at everyone that he now directs at you? oh, he's angry alright.

for what reason? who knows. you're too busy wallowing in self-despair over how terrible your acting is.

the scene is supposedly simple. it involves the second lead, who happens to be you, confessing their love to the leading man, resulting to a spontaneous kiss.

yet, you're fumbling over the lines, acting so out of character, tripping over set, incorrectly initiating the kiss at awkward angles—the whole time-wasting squander.

“what's going on?” childe eventually asks, once he arrives at your shared apartment. his bag drops to the floor with a flop. “you're acting strange. the entire crew sees it, i see it, the director sees it—what if he decides to fire you? what will you do then?”

you swallow dryly. you left the set early hoping childe's hectic schedule prompted him to forget the whole issue. yet, here he is finally bringing up the conversation after what feels like a month's worth of tension.

as you sit on the sofa chair, your fingers massage the bridge of your nose. breathe in, breathe out. you repeat. don't cry. you try to calm yourself down as a sob tries to break through.

eight months, you've been a couple.

but, there are some things you're afraid to say.

each year, the biggest tabloid newspaper in the country releases an article on celebrity dating scandals. a month ago they released one single page article about a popular actor dating a newbie actress. it barely had any juicy details, just a simple paragraph of a somebody dating a nobody.

yet, it did not end well for them. and you're terrified; for when it could happen to you.

you imagine it. dozens of messages and multiple missed phone calls on your cell as your name becomes the next talk of the town. the headline reads: revealed! a nobody actress, the second-lead from the northland bank saga currently dates the nation's boyfriend, childe!

it terrifies you. you could lose your job. lose what you love doing the most. and you could get tossed aside like an old sweater under someone's bed, left to rot and decompose.

so, yes. you hesitated earlier at set because you don't want anyone to connect the dots. to look at the kiss between you two and notice something amiss. to speculate that there's more to your relationship than what meets the eye. to realize you look at him as more than a co-star. to see how much you're in love with him. to realize the both of you are dating.

“it's not easy.” you say, releasing a sigh.

two years you've been in the business. rookies barely get any roles as it is. being in a well-received rendition of an old romance drama is a once in a blue moon opportunity and you can't risk someone finding out about your relationship.

“camera shy? no—you've kissed heaps of actors for that school drama.”

you mumble, “two people aren't heaps of actors, tartaglia.”

“then what is the problem?”

childe saunters to where you sit. he leans towards you and presses his palm on the head of the sofa, trapping your body between his and the chair. childe's eyes meet yours and you instantly look away.

he knows you well enough to comprehend that look on your face. the way you hide your clammy hands behind you, the manner of your eyes staring only at your feet, how your body tucks itself into the corner of the seat.

“me?” childe whispers.

he places a hand under your jaw. his thumb softly pushes your chin upwards so your eyes meet his.

“why?” he pleads.

“you won't understand.”

“i will if you tell me,” he says, holding your gaze. seeing how you relentlessly persist on keeping your mouth shut, he shakes his head. “oh, please tell me.”

you hesitate. you tell him and then what?

you could say: hey, childe! i'm afraid of our relationship being discovered. i'll be hated by your fans. you'll be constantly drained by my crying and whining. your reputation would take a hit regardless of how popular you are and—and then he'll finally realize how exhausting and annoying it is being with you.

your self-deprecation loves to pull you deeper into its sapping embrace. you're nothing, it mouths. childe would dump you and find some other actor or actress to date. god. it would be so easy. with his popularity, good looks, and charming personality, he'd find a better and talented rising-star the moment he chucks you out the front door.

so, you shake your head firmly.

“tell me, please.” he whispers.

you cross your arms, and look away.

“are you sick?”

you shake your head.

“somebody hurting you on set?”

again, you shake your head.

childe pauses, “...do you have feelings for someone else?”

“no!”

“then what is the damn problem?”

“nothing!” you exasperate, furrowing your brows together.

childe takes your reluctance as distrust and it ignites his irritation. do you not trust him? is he that insignificant to you? what are you hiding? hell, did you fall for the main lead of the show, zhongli? or do you not love him anymore? god, he can feel himself suffocate in resentment.

is he so unimportant that you'd prefer to keep the problem to yourself? it makes his blood boil; how he'd do anything for you, but you'd rather keep it to yourself and suffer alone.

“tell me.” childe scowls as he watches your lips quiver.

you keep your mouth firmly shut.

“fine, hold your tongue.” he sneers, “i understand. i really do, baby. it's not about the cameras, the flashing lights, the audience.”

childe brushes his lips against yours, “you wouldn’t kiss me like that in public, though, would you?” he releases his hold on your chin and his sharp eyes meet yours. “it’s only behind closed doors when you care to act like we’re each other’s.”

with a hooded jacket in one hand and a face mask in another, childe swiftly leaves the apartment with a slam of a door.

leaving you alone with your wretched thoughts.

more under the cut!

despite walking out the flat hours ago, childe still reverberates jealousy and anger; pure envy at how normal you act around everyone else yet, around him you're too guarded; and angry at himself for saying those awful words to your face.

he smacks his forehead on the steering wheel. childe acknowledges how childish he's been acting. you aren't ready to talk, and he shouldn't be forcing you to speak out your difficulties.

surely, the stress is piling up on you. he knows the hours you've been working on set, memorizing lines, practicing moves—again, he thumps his head on the wheel.

stupid, he curses. control your damn temper next time.

he reaches for the box of blueberry cheesecake on the front passenger seat. subconsciously, he drove two hours (and back) to the bakery's main branch as its side branches were sold out of your favorite cake. and he knows how much you love the pastry.

however, his body slouches in the parked car outside the apartment. the long drive works miracles with his anger, but the courage to actually walk inside and apologize never comes.

the ding of a text draws his attention. ‘go inside and beg for forgiveness, brat.’ yoimiya, a fellow actress from the same company as him, says. the woman is always in the loop and well-informed.

a shiver goes down his spine. if you told yoimiya about the argument, he's absolutely sure you're furious. you'd only speak to her as a last-ditch effort; knowing her personality she'd pummel him to bits while you watch.

as a result, he stands inside the apartment, one hand knocking on your bedroom door. however, instead of tasting blood, he hears your stifled sobs. the abrupt sound convinces him to turn the knob and enter the room.

the illumination from the hallway brightens the bedroom, shining a bit of light on your face. you lay on the bed with your knees to your chest, with a blanket over your waist. your reddened cheeks and tear-stained eyes makes his stomach churn.

“please don't cry, baby.” childe cooes, kneeling by your bedside. he leans over you, his fingers gently grip your cheeks. “i'm so sorry.”

the sudden apology sprouts pools from your eyes. his thumbs brush the water off your face and softly says, “i shouldn't have said—please, don't cry. it's my fault for taking my anger out on you.”

“i'm afraid of losing you,” you whimper. “if they find out—oh god—they'll tear me apart. i'm nothing compared to you. i'd lose everything. i might even lose you—”

“never, i will never leave you. no matter what happens,” childe interjects.

you furrow your brows, sobbing. “i'm no one—too difficult,” you hiccup. “you'll throw me away. i'm too whiny and too draining. if they find out... you'll see all the comments about how ugly—”

“breathe, baby.” he settles himself on your bed and softly places you on his lap. “you're gorgeous. you're not draining, and frankly, you're cute when you whine.”

you bury your face into his neck and continue, “i'm serious, childe. you'll get exhausted. the articles will talk about you too!”

“articles, mhm. they're just articles.” he hums.

irritation begins to set in. was he this clueless? you release another sob, “they're not just articles. they'll nitpick every single thing you do! oh—look at this newbie getting together with childe. oh, they suck at acting! why is childe even—”

childe gently places his palm on your neck, coaxing you to meet his gaze. “are you talking about the tabloid from last month?”

you sigh, “what else am i talking about?” and instantly you sense his laughter resonate. “are you laughing?”

“you're adorable, baby.” he breathes, nuzzling his face on your neck.

“you're making fun of me! what the hell, childe?”

he releases a sigh, pausing his laughter. “the tabloids every month. they're paid. companies pay them to talk about their idols for publicity.”

your face contorts into confusion, “who would willingly—they talked about lumine all month because of the article! you know she's my favorite actress. why would they willingly put her on the spotlight like that?”

“publicity, baby.”

you shake your head, “it makes no sense.”

“oh, it does.” childe hums. “of course, they'd seek permission first. it boosted views for her drama, didn't it? lumine did say she got extra for the views and switched apartments.”

“yeah, wait—you knew this whole time and didn't bother to tell me?”

he chuckles, “that's what you get for keeping these things to yourself for a month.” he squeezes the bridge of your nose.

“you're terrible.”

“love you too, baby.” he teases, “and besides, if a tabloid threatened to do something—” his thumb gently traces the skin around your neck. “—i'll keep you safe.”

a soft smile graces your features. “...i'm just not ready for anyone to find out. yet, anyway.”

childe hums, “we'll do it on your terms, okay? whenever you're ready.”

“sure, i guess you can keep me for a while longer. until you throw me away and find the next rookie to—”

childe's soft laughter sparks a flutter in your stomach. he would never do such a thing. the moment he first laid his eyes on you on set, heard your beautiful laugh between takes, listened to your jokes while practicing lines, and god, seen your angelic smile? the things he would do to keep you as his.

“never.” a cheeky grin appears on his lips, “i'll take care of you.”

bonus: five years later

your phone rings. the vibration continues on and off, signaling multiple inbox messages. you swipe your phone to see texts from several of your close friends.

‘i know you told me you were okay with it, but i didn't think he'd try to do it so soon. i tried but he's too hardheaded.’ says yoimiya.

‘congratulations! when's the wedding? i'm kidding. don't kill childe.’ says thoma, an actor from your same company.

‘sorrows, sorrows, prayers.’ says venti, your current co-star.

you even receive a message from childe himself.

‘good morning, baby. i'm completely fault-free. simply honoring your wishes as a devoted fiancé should.’

attached to a message was a link to a video entitled: please don't kill me honey.

you click the link.

the video's blurry, as if taken by a cellphone. you recognize thoma as the person videoing the whole scene, as he turns the camera to face him before focusing it on a woman—seemingly a fan of childe. she wears merch from his most recent drama.

a fan goes on stage chosen by a random lottery draw. the said fan wins the chance to interview childe, who was the guest of the day for talk show, and ask one question.

the girl hastily walks on stage, holding a microphone given by staff.

“um. hello, childe!”

the audience screams as the huge video screen focuses on your lover's face. he waves a quick ‘hello’ and the crowd yells louder.

the girl hesitates, “are you dating anyone right now?”

childe twists the microphone in his hands. “hm? right now... i'm not dating anyone.”

the crows sighs in relief, utterly happy their favorite leading actor continues to be single.

but you see the outline of a smirk flashing on his face, and you instantly know there's a deeper meaning to that sentence. “but, it's difficult to say... since we're not really dating as of the moment.”

quietly, you hear the voice of yoimiya whispering, “don't do it.” the camera now focusing on her, trying to get herself on stage. thoma flips the camera around to face it on himself, waving a hello, apparently enjoying the drama. he then focuses the camera on the wide screen, featuring childe's face.

to add mayhem into the mix, childe continues, “i don't think being engaged to your partner falls under dating. we're way past that.”

the interview ends with the audience screaming their lungs out in disbelief, while childe's laugh resonates the whole auditorium.

ayato, company director

“oh, them?” ayato's steady gaze meet yours, pressing his lips in a tight-lipped smile. “they're a friend of mine.”

friend. it echoes in your mind, repeating incessantly. friend. friend. friend.

dread creeps into the pit of your stomach akin to a quick flick of a lighter. after all this time, your stomach lurches. is that all he thinks of you?

god, you need a drink.

the businessmen before you smile, prompting you to return the favor. subsequently, you humbly introduce yourself as just an ‘actor in the industry’. and they laugh. of course they do.

who wouldn't know you? a multi award-winning movie and television star with piles of nominations. so modest, they say. so kind, they praise. you grin, the smile not reaching your eyes, thanking them for their compliments.

but you're so accustomed to their fake smiles, ingenuine flattery, and sweet talk; you never truly know what's actually honest and real—eyes flickering to your azure-haired partner—no, who's honest and real.

you swallow the thought down.

as if aware of the invisible daggers thrown his way, ayato's gaze meets yours. his lips are pressed firmly together, eyes devoid of warmth.

not now, his expression conveys.

you narrow your own eyes, irritation burning through your corneas. as much as you want to start an argument in front of his investors, you agree to his silent insistence. after all it's his gala; one he's tirelessly prepared for over several months.

so you bite your tongue and smile: one honed by years of acting—fake yet strangely genuine.

it's not strong enough. you say, sipping wine with shaky hands. earlier, you left ayato to his fellow businessmen using the excuse of needing a bathroom break, a reason to which he obliged.

you stare at the elaborate party before you, wishing you could go home. the gala swiftly dissolved your social battery, aided by forced mingling and bitterness. a friend, your consciousness repeats. always a friend. so you sit on a chair by the wall, sipping drinks like water.

suddenly, the hairs of your neck stand on end. you sense his presence behind you, prompting a glance through your peripheral vision.

“careful, darling.” ayato's says, tone smooth yet laced with warning. “i'd rather not have you collapsing. your lovely face wouldn't compliment these filthy floors.”

you tense immediately, shoulders stiffening. “reverting back to pet names, i see?”

ayato's hand now rests on your shoulder, his thumb brushing your soft skin. “what seems to be the issue? i doubt it's due to the eight glasses of wine you've consumed in one sitting.”

you roll your tongue in your mouth, practicing the words. let's break up. you bite your tongue. let's see other people. besides, he wouldn't care would he? it's not as if he's been acknowledging you as someone he's been dating, has he? hiding your relationship from his business partners is one thing, but concealing it from closest friends? his family? that's an entirely different matter altogether.

a friend, he says to his business partners.

a star from the company, he answers to his closest friends.

a companion, he whispers to his family.

you're sick and tired of it. all of it.

raising the wineglass to your lips, you drown the drink in one go. you raise two fingers signaling the waiter for another drink.

ayato sighs and you think you feel his hand on your neck tighten, ever so slightly. “you've reached your limit with wine, dear.”

soon, the waiter arrives with three more glasses on his tray. ayato's disapproving glare compels the waiter to scurry across the ballroom floor, steering clear of you.

you click your tongue and begin, “who says so?”

“your fiancé,” he mutters, voice dripping with venom.

you immediately scoff. “sure. for your sake, i'll pretend you mentioned that earlier.”

before ayato could retort, the presence of another individual calls his attention; his younger sister, ayaka.

“brother, the sangonomiya heir's requesting your presence.”

he sighs, irritation etching his features. yet, you blink, catching a subtle shift in his expression—seemingly twisting from annoyance to something resembling relief at the mention of sangonomiya's name.

you swallow the bitter thought.

“watch them for me, could you? i'd rather not have them find a server willing to disobey my instructions and serve them a drink,” ayato whispers, his tone betraying a hint of tension that doesn't go unnoticed.

ayaka nods. her consent prompts the older brother to depart, heading towards the misty rose-pink heir who stands at the opposite side of the ballroom.

ayaka says the inevitable, “you should let him know it bothers you.”

“...i'm not sure what you're referring to.”

her gaze follows yours, observing the giggling and cheerful countenances of the kamisato and sangonomiya heirs. they seem to be enjoying their time together. as always, you remark.

“they're just close friends, you know.”

you click your tongue. “like how him and i are just friends?”

ayaka sighs, understanding your implication. “you know what i mean.”

sangonomiya's hand on your partner's shoulder elicits an exasperated sigh from you. “thoma told me they were to be married if i wasn't here.”

“the man always running his mouth—” she takes a calming breath before continuing, “—but brother's very fond of you. i'm his sister, i should know.”

“then how come after dating him for five years, he still calls me his friend.” you pause, a hand sliding into the right pocket of your outfit. you absentmindedly play with the engagement ring inside. “i'm his fiancé, aren't i?”

“he has his reasons. petty reasons.”

you bite your tongue. or he's embarrassed of you.

you met the kamisato company heir two years after your debut as an idol. as you shifted towards acting, you developed a close relationship with his sister, a seasoned actress from the same company. eventually, she became the bridge that strengthened the bond between the two of you.

you dedicated yourself nonstop, evolving from a rookie actor to a multiple-nominee and winning star; all in the pursuit of being able to openly show off your relationship with ayato without it tarnishing your reputation.

however, when you're prepared to finally reveal your relationship, he isn't.

and it leaves you wondering, is there someone else?

you mean, you're hesitant to doubt the love of your life. but considering he's kept your relationship a secret from everyone for years, it's obvious he's adept at keeping things hidden.

even from you.

and the thought sours your mood.

excusing yourself once more to use the restroom, using the premise of consuming ten glasses of wine, you bid adieu to your favorite kamisato (at the moment). you instead head towards a secluded balcony away from prying eyes.

you stare at the garden below. your eyes quickly blink back the tears threatening to fall. not now, you hiss. don't do this to me, not right now.

“i assumed you would have retreated to your room by this point.” his voice murmurs, unnervingly composed.

you turn around to see your partner holding a glass of wine. his features remain blank, inscrutable.

maybe it's because of all the wine you've been drinking. you can't seem to tell between what's real or not.

“what did you discuss with kokomi?”

“i wasn't aware you were both on a first name basis.”

“answer the question.”

he smiles, “business as always.”

you huff and wrap your hands around your arms. “of course. just business.”

ayato immediately picks up the anger in your tone. he lays his palm on your forearm, gently pulling you towards him. “look at me,” he pleads, with a subtle trace of irritation in his voice.

you turn to look at his face, eyes glaring.

“i felt your glares the entire night.” he begins.

you shrug, smiling innocently. “...what ever do you mean?”

“don't toy with me, darling.”

as he enunciates his answer, it's as if the final thread of your patience snaps. does he still continue to feign innocence and lie to your face?

last month he proposed and you were overjoyed. you then expected a shift in your relationship; the final unveiling of your engagement to the public. you gave him your permission, a definitive “i'm ready for everyone to know.”

yet thirty days later the engagement remains concealed leaving only a few of his friends (thoma) and a few family members (ayaka) knowing about your updated relationship.

if it was the ayato from two years ago, he would be delighted—ecstatic even—to reveal the truth. he might have used the gala today as an avenue to scream to the world, this person and i are in love.

but he didn't.

so the weight of your feelings began to drag you down; it almost feels suffocating in a way. as if a ribbon labeled, he's ashamed, tightly winds around your insides, intricately tying them all together into a sophisticated bow sowing distrust whispering; he's hiding something.

your suspicions, coupled with his frequent visits this month to the sangonomiya estate, fueled your frustration until it erupted. if only he ceased pretending innocent, perhaps you would able to smile through the whole facade.

if only he didn't ask.

“i'm not naive. if you developed feelings for kokomi then you shouldn't have proposed.” you snap. “was it out of pity? did you feel so damn guilty that you chose to go through with the engagement instead of being honest about your feelings?”

ayato furrows his brows, mouth tightening in anger. “what are you talking about? i discuss private affairs with kokomi. business affairs.”

you laugh; one infused with irritation and disbelief. “don't tell me then. keep your stupid secrets.”

“do you want me to jot down a damn list detailing every single thing i do in a day?” he growls. “i won't divulge company secrets just because you feel like throwing a tantrum.”

your hands drift to the tie around his neck, tugging the crooked tie straight. “no. go ahead and keep your secrets.” you pause and roll the words with your tongue, “you're clearly very good at keeping secrets. you’ve kept me—us—as a secret for so long, so of course you’d be good at keeping fucking secrets.”

anger flares across his face. “you desired our relationship to remain a secret, and i respected your wishes.” he sneers, “i wanted to let the damn world know how much i'm in love with you yet, it was the opposite of what you desired.”

ayato releases his grip on you and strides back into the ballroom, but he halts right at the door to the balcony. “so don't dictate when i should reveal the truth simply because you've grown sick and tired of keeping me as your dirty, little secret.”

he finally departs; and you stay, tears pooling, with a profound ache in your heart.

ayato waltzes around the room in a nonchalant dance; yes, good to see you. he lies. how's business? he couldn't care less. enjoy the party! no, he wants everyone in the damn room to feel his wrath.

although he yearns to set the entire ballroom ablaze, ending the party prematurely would be ill-manned of him. so, ayato continues being a gracious and honorable host.

but he feels hollow. he envisions himself freezing the entire room in an icy gust, everyone turning into statues. he wants to sprint back into your arms and plead for you to listen.

he doesn't understand what came over him. why he lost his temper like that. typically, he'd manage your outbursts with composure and understanding. what happened? he doesn't know.

he attributes his outburst to the mounting pressure. the chronic lack of sleep and continuous exhaustion coming from his title as heir. perhaps it's the truth gnawing his skin; despite his powerful position atop the company, it can easily be ripped away with the flick of a wrist.

instead of spending time with his fiancé—he doesn't know if he still deserves to call you that, you probably threw away his ring the second he left the balcony—yet here he is, engaged in conversations with business associates he cares little about.

“brother?” ayaka calls. she finds him leaning against a railing of stairs. “i closed off the gardens.”

ayato swallows. he last saw you sneaking towards the grounds. “they're still on the grass?”

“yes.”

“they'll catch a cold.”

“they will.”

he glances at his sister. “they think i'm unfaithful.”

“i know,” she says matter-of-factly. “have you offered them any evidence to convince them otherwise?”

ayato stays silent.

“i know you care about them, brother.” ayaka sighs, “however, surprising them with a specially crafted ring and being petty when your entire relationship is at stake may not be the wisest move.”

he sighs.

“most especially if they suspect that your frequent visits to the sangonomiya manor are fueled by romantic feelings for its heiress, and not for their own wedding ring.”

after a while, ayato spots you lying on the grass in a starfish formation, having finally swallowed his pride. his eyes glaze over your features: red eyes, cheeks marked with tear stains, and an exhausted expression.

“can we talk?” he begins.

you spare a quick glance before turning your attention back to the night sky. “there's not much to talk about.”

“i'm not cheating,” he asserts.

“i know.”

“do you know, or have you resigned yourself to not knowing?”

“hm,” you hum. “a part of me entertains the thought of you cheating. yet an even smaller part absolutely knows that if you were truly cheating, you'd be more discreet. who, in their right mind, would inform thoma that you visited her manor?”

he chuckles, a laughter-less sound escapes him. “i understand i've been secretive. you have every right to assume i'm up to something indecent. but i have my reasons.” ayato confesses, kneeling beside your body. he places his hand inside his suit pocket, pulling up a black small box.

you instantly sit up. “you're horrible,” you cough, eyes widening as he opens the box to show a ring. “this entire time you were—god.”

“i placed a special order,” he mumbles. “i visited each day to ensure it was flawless, right down to the smallest details.”

“i'm so sorry.”

“don't be, love.” he breathes, “you had your reasons, and i was insistent on keeping it a surprise.”

relief floods your features. “good,” you whisper before tears well in your eyes.

the sound of your sobs breaks his heart. he immediately wraps his arms around you, brushing his lips on your cheeks.

“i'm sorry, darling,” he murmurs, kissing the skin above your brow. “i'm sorry for worrying you.”

“goddamn sadistic,” you sob. “you knew i was freaking out, but you just watched!”

he grins, “i have to admit, you look cute when you're jealous.”

a groan escapes you. “don't make me throw away both rings.”

“is that so? i should've ordered twenty spares.”

“no.” you scold.

“oh? look at my darling, so jealous,” he smirks, nuzzling his face into your neck. you then feel his lips press into a straight line. “you're not something i would ever try to hide. i would never be ashamed of our relationship.”

you laugh, “prove it.”

your smile faces seeing the smirk on his face. in that exact moment, you know that kamisato ayato, the preposterous god in human flesh, plans to do something grand and explosive to prove you otherwise.

“do not.” you begin, “we've talked about this. you cannot—you absolutely will not bribe the government to declare our wedding date as a national holiday!”

bonus: ten minutes before the clash

“is it getting warm in here, or am i sensing the intense gaze of your loving fiancé on me?” kokomi laughs, sipping a glass of champagne.

ayato takes a peek, and he chuckles upon seeing your irritated and jealous expression. “they certainly are.”

“please do not involve me in your lovers' quarrels. everyone knows we're just close friends.”

“they do.”

“have you told them?”

“...it may have slipped past my mind.”

kokomi shakes her head. “sadistic.” she slips a black box into his palm. “clear it up. i do not want to be murdered by your future partner.”

ayato glances at you from across the room as you engage a conversation with his sister. “mhm, i could, but their jealous expression is too endearing.”

“sadistic,” she repeats. “absolutely sadistic.”

he chuckles.

“also, kazuha mentioned that you've been referring to them as your companion. correct that.” she continues, “and stop calling them your friend!”

“they asked me to when we started dating.”

she rolls her eyes. “you're so petty. stop trying to provoke them!”

“anyways, everyone knows we're engaged,” he corrects. “their whining face is the cutest.”

“sadistic.”

“kokomi?”

she tilts her head and hums, “yes?”

“ever wondered how much it costs to propose a national holiday?”

author’s note: lmao. so in this modern au ayato actually succeeds in turning your wedding date into a national holiday. the government actually appreciates his donation because a.) they always accept goodwilled (lmao) funds and b.) ayato's an important pillar to the gov and they don't want to upset him 'cause petty rich boy tantrums tilt the economy (how sadistic).

so, ayato's the heir of the company where you are employed at as an idol turned actor/actress. kokomi is the heiress to a big jewelry corporation. lmao they were both engaged together when they were like five but they instantly broke it off because well, they both threw five year old tantrums.

plus thoma telling you that they were to be engaged was just a fact he blurted out when you asked about kokomi (he manages to omit the five-year-old part because he's careless + he didn't think it matters because anyone can tell ayato's intensely in love with you)

#genshin x you #genshin x reader #genshin impact x gender neutral reader #genshin imagines #genshin impact x reader #tartaglia x reader #childe x you #childe x reader #ayato x reader #kamisato ayato x reader #ayato x you #genshin x gender neutral reader #genshin headcannons #genshin angst #genshin hurt/comfort #kamisato ayato #childe #tartaglia x you

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bohbee · 1 year

Note

Do you think you could do some genshin characters reacting to you flinching during a fight? 👉🏻👈🏻 Im not picky with which characters as long as Childe is included

Flinching During an Argument, Genshin.

Part 1?

Masterlist

Characters: Childe, Diluc, Kaeya, Wanderer.

Warnings: Mentions of violence, misunderstandings, past abusive relationships, insecurities, yelling, blood (unrelated), potential harming.

Notes: There are some kinds of spoilers for The Wanderers but yeah >:). Sorry for not writing for a long time, there's been a lot of stressful things happening in my life right now but I'm trying to write more :). There will be more parts to this I just don't know when.

Childe (Tartaglia, Ajax)

The room which was usually filled with laughs and smiles now had a dark aura. Both occupants of the household argue with each other, in a fit of rage and hurt. "Ajax please just listen to me! I could've lost you!" You said, wiping the tears from your eyes, a shudder left your chest as your boyfriend's eyes darkened towards you. His boots took a step forward and he pointed his finger toward you.

"You always underestimate me!" A vein popped from his forehead, the air getting thick causing your heart to speed up. "Ajax I di-" He cut you off with a shout causing you to back up into the wall "No! YOU DON'T KNOW WHAT I SUFFERED THROUGH TO BE SEEN LIKE THAT"

He went to push the hair out of his eyes, his gloved hand swayed in front of your face causing you to cover your eyes, frightened of his next course of action. Your knees buckle slightly. Childe's movements came to a halt, and his annoyance quickly left, now filled with shock and pain.

"Dove... I-" he started to speak, his hands gently grabbing yours, delicately not to strike for negative emotions in you. As he moved your defense, he winced at your fear-struck face, tears he caused painting your skin. "I would never... ever harm you... I'm so- so sorry" He opened his arms slowly, trying not to frighten you, offering for you to hug him, and you pounced into his grasp. Small sobs emitted from your throat, "I'm sorry- I just don't want to -hic- lose you, and I-" your rambling was cut off by a small hush from the ginger.

"I would never leave you... I was being unreasonable, let's just drop it for now, come on I'll take you to the bedroom."

The rest of the day was filled with soft hums, and both of you enjoyed each other's presence. "My dove?" Tartaglia's voice was soft, you looked up to meet his eyes questioning him. "C'mon let's go to a restaurant.... let me treat you?" He said, well more of asked... still not knowing how much you were willing to do. "Of course.... let's go."

Diluc

Nothing was different from today than any other day, you went on commissions and came home to your loving husband. However, the crimson irises begged to differ. "You need to stop being so reckless! You've come home yet again with a new bloodied bandage!" His tone was deep, filled with irritation and worry. Though, that didn't do much but annoy you. "Luc, please listen to me, love. This is a part of working for the Guild!"

His eyes shot toward yours, pure frustration filling his pupils. "Every. Day." He started, his body slowly getting up from where he was sitting. "I. Have. To. See. You. Get. Hurt." His body was slightly in front of you, a two-foot gap in between your bodies. "EVERY. DAMN. DAY.!" His booming voice shook the air, causing you to flinch and stumble onto the ground.

A few seconds of silence went by until he kneeled to where you fell. "I am deeply sorry, I- it was never my intention to frighten you, my love." His eyes were filled with shame and insecurity, his gloved hand reached out to you slowly. You softly grabbed it allowing him to pull you up and into a hug, watching for your injuries. "I'm sor-" you started but your husband shushed you "No need dear, I must be the one to apologize. I was being rash, just promise me that you'll be more careful?"

You nodded softly and hugged his torso a bit tighter, the both of you stood in the common room for a while before he broke away from the embrace. "Why don't you let me re-bandage your injuries and then after we can go for a walk?"

As the day continued on, the well-known couple could be seen walking down the paths of the outskirts of Monstadt. Hand in hand, soft delicate smiles painting both of their features.

Kaeya

Sadly, petty arguments with Kaeya always happened, it was all fine though. None of it really went far, that is until now. The two of you were in his office at the KOF building, snapping at each other. Snarky comments and shouts were heard throughout the whole building, though no one dared to enter not even Lisa nor Jean.

"You are being unreasonable!" you shouted at the blue-haired male who only scoffed back, he stood from his seat and turned his back away from you. "For the last time, now listen real closely and get it through your more than thick skull." He slowly turned towards you, his deep frustrated tone quickly shutting you up. "She was NOT flirting with me, just because you're insecure does not mean you get to PROJECT your feelings on me nor the poor lady who was being nice."

His words made you wince, stepping back in shock as you look up into his eyes with hurt, no more than hurt..... betrayal "oh." Your head bobbed in a quick nod as you went to leave the room. "W-wait.... (y/n) shit... I didn't mean-" he chased after you. The people in the city watched in shock which only rubbed the salt more in your wound.

You finally made it to your home, your boyfriend rushing in behind you. No words were spoken, his strong arms yanked you into a hug as you sobbed into his chest. "I....... I am so so sorry snowflake......" your loud cries pulled at his heart strings. After gathering your emotions, you went to respond, feeling guilty for the situation. "You were ri-" his soft lips slammed onto yours, effectively stopping your words. "Don't even think about finishing that sentence."

The two of you made an executive decision to take some time off together in which Jean more than happily approved of. The two of you were now in the amazing city of Sumeru, sitting together in the Grand Bazaar. Your head laying on his soft shoulder as both of you watch the amazing dancers.

Wanderer (Kuni)

You and the umbrella hat male were walking down a trail in the outskirts of Gandharva Ville, when suddenly a random root appeared from nowhere, which caused your body to fling forward into the ground. The Wanderer turned around slightly shocked, he laughed slightly and swung his hand to help you up. But the sudden motion frightened you and caused you to cower backwards. "I'm sorry!" you yelped out while closing your eyes, preparing for the hit that would never come.

Kuni looked at you shocked, no words left his mouth, he was truly stunned at the scene in front of him. You soon opened your eyes and looked to the side embarrassed, "I- uh- sorry heh, that's embarrassing.... well lets uh continue." You stood up and brushed your pants off and walked past your "new" boyfriend, expecting him to follow you. Though his next words, stopped your movements.

"What......" he paused before slightly hanging his head in shame "I know I used to... treat you unfairly....... just know that I am trying to get better." he muttered before walking to you and gripping the back of your shirt. "I don't want to lose nor hurt the one I love...." he mumbled before he slowly and awkwardly hugged you from behind.

"I know you are trying.... don't think I've given up on you Ku.... I trust you."

Over time, the two of you slowly dropped your walls with each other, becoming closer than ever. He was a completely different person than the one you used to date. Same face..... same body.... same soul..... just different purpose.

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

I hope this is good :), I love you guys... also dude why are genshin characters written so WELL gah damn!

#genshin x reader #genshin imagines #genshin reader insert #genshin oneshots #genshin impact #diluc x reader #childe x reader #tartaglia x reader #wanderer x reader #scaramouche x reader #kunikuzushi x reader #kaeya x reader #hurt/comfort #genshin hurt/comfort #genshin impact x reader #genshin x you

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that-foul-legacy-lover · 2 years

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In Sickness and In Health

Synopsis: You fall ill while Childe's away, and while he might care about the Fatui’s missions, Foul Legacy doesn’t.

Foul Legacy Childe x Reader Pronouns: Gender Neutral (no pronouns mentioned) Genre: Hurt/Comfort, Fluff Warnings: Being sick, mentions of pain, headaches, and difficulty breathing, worry, general suffering

~ * ~ As a Fatuus, Childe is often away from you. It’s his duty as the Eleventh Harbinger to carry out orders, completing missions in the name of the Tsaritsa while training young, eager recruits to grow into another member of Snezhnaya’s pride and joy. This he explained to you, over and over, before you had even begun to consider him more than a friend. He was so nervous at first, scared you would reject him, disgusted by his status as a Harbinger. It’s only when you finally moved to silently slip your hand into his that his voice faltered and trailed into silence, lips twisting in uncertainty before lifting into a relieved grin when you gave him a smile full of understanding. Since then the constant, nervous reminders of his position have faded away, replaced by dates of absences and return, one mission after another. It breaks his heart to be away so much, but you always wave off his apologies- his home isn’t the Harbor; it never has been, and as long as he returns, you’ll be alright. And yet no matter how dire the circumstances, Childe would always leave you with a kiss on the forehead and a whispered promise to spend time with you when he returns- anything you like, whether that be dinner, travel, or simply a walk. You’d always laugh and playfully hit his shoulder, unable to do any real damage. He knows what you want, you choose it every time, as the comforting arms of his Foul Legacy form around you are incomparable to anything else, the knowledge that Foul Legacy adores you as much as Childe does ensuring you a good night's sleep after weeks of worry. It makes him smile, seeing how much you love his Abyssal form. He wasn’t even aware Foul Legacy could feel emotions such as love, but the constant, rumbling purr in the back of his mind whenever you’re nearby says otherwise, and his hand briefly rests in your hair before he’s forced to pull away. You’re there when he boards the ship to his destination, smiling and waving goodbye, and his subordinates swear they see the famed Tartaglia’s eyes sparkle as he waves back to his dearest secret standing on the shore. Childe’s only joy in the coming weeks are the letters you send, detailing your normal, mundane life as well as how much you miss him. It’s the only time he genuinely smiles, normally confident smirk gone from his face as an agent hands him a letter almost daily, although they’ve been sparser lately. He opens today’s letter eagerly, making sure not to tear the paper, but his expression morphs into one of confusion when he sees the short, terse paragraph in elegant writing. Zhongli, it must be- Childe knows that script anywhere- and his dull eyes widen in horror as he reads the message. You’re sick. Extremely sick. Zhongli’s been tending to you for a few days, but your fever refuses to go down and the only thing you say when awake is how much everything hurts, mumbling Childe’s name whenever you slip into uneasy dreams. Zhongli assures him that he’ll do his best to take care of and hopefully lift you out of sickness before Childe returns, but that doesn’t prevent his stomach from twisting into a knot of guilt as he thinks of you suffering without him by your side. Foul Legacy whines in his head, to the point Childe can almost see the Abyssal beast curling his claws anxiously as he urges the Harbinger to return home, wherever you are. Childe grits his teeth as he folds Zhongli’s letter; obviously he’d love to go back to the Harbor, but his duties have taken him across the sea, miles away from you, and even if he could go back he wouldn’t dare leave his duties and reveal you as his beloved- the mere thought of the danger you’d be in sends a shiver down his spine. Foul Legacy’s whines turn to hisses, repeatedly insisting to go home, go back, go HELP! And Childe throws his hands up in frustration. “I can’t!” He says aloud, trying to placate the monster clawing at the edges of his mind while his own thoughts race with worry for you. Foul Legacy falls silent, and for a moment Childe thinks he’s won the argument, before he hears a sudden, deadly growl. If you won’t, then I will. There’s barely time to blink before Foul Legacy assumes control of their shared body, inhaling the crisp air and flexing his talons. Without a backward glance he leaves, star-speckled wings spreading and catching the seaborn wind. The agents will awaken to their Harbinger missing, but Foul Legacy doesn’t care- the Fatui’s petty problems are unimportant compared to your pain. His haste is so great that he reaches Liyue Harbor just as the sun is setting, touching down carefully outside your back door to avoid the late-afternoon Millelith. The door’s unlocked, a foreign scent leading inside, and with a growl Foul Legacy enters your home, gaze landing on Zhongli who whirls around in shock. The ex-Archon exhales in relief when he sees Foul Legacy, moving aside to reveal your frail body curled on a bed, fingers clenching the sheets in discomfort. A frantic cry tears itself from Foul Legacy’s throat, rushing past Zhongli to kneel by your side, claws hovering over you, unsure where to place themselves. Zhongli pats his shoulder, trying to reassure the Abyssal monster, and the commotion shakes you from slumber and into unsteady wakefulness, dazedly looking at your love. This must be a dream, it has to be. Childe’s somewhere overseas, completing his latest task for the Tsaritsa; he shouldn’t be back for weeks. And yet, Foul Legacy stares at you, crystalline eye flooded with concern as his whines dip, with some effort, to gentle purrs and he slowly extends a hand to you. “Legacy…” You catch one of his claws in a weak grip, fingers wrapping loosely around the talon before falling back to the mattress, and Foul Legacy whimpers at your lack of strength. Archons, you’re so frail- just how long had you been suffering before Zhongli wrote to him? His hand brushes against your forehead, only to immediately recoil when your skin burns with sickening warmth, far beyond a healthy range. Your eyes flutter shut, too exhausted to stay awake but comforted by the presence of the one you hold dear. Foul Legacy watches you drift into an uneasy sleep, absentmindedly playing with your hair. His touch calms your fevered dreams, and soon your features relax into an expression more peaceful than Zhongli’s seen in days. Legacy’s gentle coos turn to a low hiss as he turns to face the funeral consultant, keeping his claws gentle but his glare steady and pointing at you with his other hand. “Fix. Help. Heal.” And Zhongli simply nods, moving to fetch today’s dose of medication. When he returns, Foul Legacy has curled around your body, cradling your head against his chest and holding your limp hands. The room fills with soft, soothing purrs, refusing to pause even when Zhongli tilts your chin upwards so you swallow the bitter medicine. It tastes like mint and ginger in your dreams, and you nearly spit it out, but the gentle hand petting your hair urges you not to as you lapse back into slumber. From then on Foul Legacy never leaves your side. Day and night he tends to you, comforting your twisted dreams and giving you medicine and making you drink water, when he can. More often than not you feel his cool talons settle on your cheeks and forehead to stave off the heat, and in the fleeting moments you’re awake you can make out his figure keeping you company, claws wrapped around your hands and wings laying over your body like gauzy blankets. His routine is to care for you and nothing less, directed by the vague memories of when Childe’s own siblings were ill, and even when Zhongli stops by, the Abyssal monster refuses to leave you. In a way, Zhongli’s grateful- surprised, yes, but also grateful for the help. He could already see how your condition improved simply by having Foul Legacy tend to you, your breaths coming out easier and sleep being far more peaceful. When you’re in pain, Foul Legacy is too- and on nights when your head feels like it’s splitting open from agony and you can do nothing but cry, he cries with you, attempting to coo and reassure you only to break out into full sobs at the sight of your suffering. But such nights become few and far between the longer he stays, and soon he sleeps the starlit hours away alongside you, the need for constant supervision diminished. He’s napping by your side the day you wake up, tired but lucid, and cup his cheeks in your hands. Foul Legacy jolts awake with a surprised chirp, staring at you like he can’t really believe that you’re here, awake with your consciousness intact, giving him a sleepy smile. “Hi…” Legacy cries out and swoops down to bundle you in his arms, burying his face into your neck with overjoyed clicks and croons. You’re still fragile- he can feel it from the way you lean against him as you thread your fingers through your hair- but you’re alright, you’re okay, and you’ll only get better from here on out. With a tenderness only you’ve had the right of knowing, he sets you back down, the bed cushioning your aching bones, and you open up your arms towards him as an invitation. With a delighted trill he accepts and cuddles against you, claws wrapped securely around your waist and head nudging underneath your chin to make small, hoarse chuckles bubble out of you for the first time in weeks. Your laughter is the sweetest melody to his ears, and Foul Legacy purrs blissfully at the sound. Eventually your hands begin to slow, going from scritches to long, languid pets as sleep tries to pull you back under, fighting against it to no avail. Foul Legacy simply pulls you closer, slotting your body against his as he strokes your arms; his permission to wander back into unconsciousness. You yawn, snuggling impossibly closer and latching onto the scarf that hangs around his neck with a sleepy mumble of goodnight, before peaceful dreams inevitably claim you again. With a soft, affectionate rumble, Legacy pulls the covers over both of you and allows your quiet breathing to lull him to sleep, too, where you can both finally rest. “Love you…” It’s the sun instead of pain that wakes you, filtering through a space in your curtains and bathing you in golden light. You stretch, delicately, and crane your neck towards the Harbinger dozing beside you, before nudging him with a mischievous grin. Childe mumbles, blinking tiredly- it feels like he’s been asleep for days, the only thing on his mind being the murmur from an exhausted but happy Foul Legacy- and when he turns he’s met with the sight of you, the effects of your illness still present but almost invisible due to the smile on your face. “Good morning.”

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theendisneat · 1 year

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"I love you, I love you, I love you." [Dying in their arms]

Warings - Death, mentions of illness and injury, hurt/no comfort

Characters - Xiao, Childe, Kamisato Ayaka, Venti, Scaramouche/Wanderer

Word Count - 1410

Xiao

He held you in his arms. If he wasn’t so concerned with hurting you, even now when blood slid from your lips and down your throat, he would be crushing you against his chest. But his hands cradled your body tenderly, so softly he was practically hovering them around you, not wanting to taint your already dying body with his karma.

Tears gathered in his eyes, but he forced himself not to cry when you two made eye contact. He wanted to, archons he wanted to ball when he saw the light slowly dim from your pretty eyes, the eyes he was admiring not so long ago.

“Why?” He couldn’t help but whisper. “I could’ve protected myself.”

You opened your mouth, only for no sounds to come out on the first try. You swallowed harshly, the taste of blood making you want to vomit, but you didn’t even have the energy for that. “It was instinct.”

It was then Xiao finally let those tears fall. It was instinct? The instinct to protect him? You loved him that much? He hugged you closer, pressing his forehead against your own so he could hear your breaths, your shallow, dying breaths. You protected him, you loved him, and he loved you.

Slowly he kissed your cheek. “I love you.”

Your forehead. “I love you.”

Eyelids. “I love you. I love you.”

And finally, the lips that had taken their last breath. “I love you, so, so, much.”

Childe

Fighting beside you was a dream for him. Both of you engaged in the thrill of battle, taking out enemies side by side with equal grace and power. He loved it, loved seeing you in his domain, loved seeing you kickass. It put a smile on his face knowing his lover was like him, powerful.

But everything powerful eventually falls, and you did it for him. So caught up in the heat of the battle, a rush going throughout his whole body, he didn’t notice the one enemy that was creeping up behind to stab him through the heart, but you did.

You had pushed him out of the way, the sword piercing you like a hot knife through butter, right in the heart where Childe was meant to get hit. The sword was pulled back with a metallic whine as Childe saw red. He doesn’t remember what he did, or what was happening until his body hands were holding your head and pressing down on your heart.

He was mumbling reassurances, desperate pleas to stay by his side and do everything you’ve ever dreamed of doing. Hysterical nonsense was the only thing to be heard besides your quiet breaths and the drip of blood as it painted the field alongside the bodies of the other enemies.

You used the last of your strength to cradle his cheek, accidentally smearing your blood on his pale, flushed face, but neither of you cared. You mumbled out a returning ‘I love you’ as you body went limp and Childe screamed.

Kamisato Ayaka

You didn’t know the woman in front of you, but she obviously knew you with the way she flittered about your room. Was it your room? You couldn’t recall. The memories were hazy, and your limbs were heavy.

Ayaka had never been more scared out of her mind when Thoma had dragged you home one day saying you had gotten in an altercation with the Tenryou Commision protecting an immigrant merchant and had lost your vision. You had been beaten, that was obvious enough, but what she was really worried about was the lack of vision, with only bad things to say about the condition of those who had lost theirs.

Ayaka was right in her worry as you began to deteriorate before her eyes. You stopped knowing how to get around the house, you lost recognition of some of the house’s staff members, you would wander around, eyes glazed and thoughts foggy. It was only about time when the memories of Thoma, and Ayato, and her started to fade.

You would lean away from her kisses, struggling to remember her name, and stayed in your room when moving became too difficult. Your body was going along with your mind, becoming a corpse right in front of your forgotten lover’s eyes.

When you took your last breath, you were too weak to lean away from Ayaka’s hands. They cupped your face gently, her delicate finger wiping away tears you didn’t know the origin of. The last thing you remember was the sound of her crying, her tears dripping on your face as she hovered over you, desperate to see some last spark in your eyes before they finally went out.

She whispered to your still body. Pleas of adoration for you to come back, to open your eyes and look at her with recognition and love once more, but you couldn’t, and she knew that, and it only made her cry harder.

Venti

Your head was in his lap, hair spread across his thighs haphazardly as he caressed your face with such gentleness it felt like a morning breeze. You could feel the pain anymore, the one that had traveled through your abdomen to your heart. It had been stabbing in tune with the beat of your heart, but now, laying here, it didn’t hurt so bad.

The feeling was leaving from your feet, limbs becoming numb. You tried to twitch your fingers to reach up to your beloved’s face. Tears had begun to slide down his cheeks, but a stoic, empty smile was on his face. Why was he crying?

“Are you alright, love?” You had no idea why it took so much effort simply to speak. Your mind had begun to fog, eyes, unknowing to you, had glazed over slightly, making you look like a doll.

“Yeah.” Venti murmured, trying to make his smile more joyful, but you could hear the lingering brokenness in his voice. “Everything’s alright darling.”

“Why’re you cryin’ then?” Venti heard the slurring of your voice and had to bite down a new wave of tears. He thumbed the skin under your eye, rubbing away any lasting tears of pain.

“I’m just so happy to see you again. You’ve been off on your adventures. It’s nice to see you back home ya know?”

Venti leaned down and kissed your forehead. “Why don’t you go to sleep darling? We can do something fun in the morning.”

“Okay.” You felt exhaustion settling in your bones, going limp entirely now. Black spots entered your vision as you felt your consciousness fade. “I love you.”

Venti let out a wet laugh. “I love you too.” And with one final kiss on the cheek, you were gone.

Scaramouche/Wanderer

“You can’t do this to me!” His grip was tight, almost too tight, but you had lost feeling in a lot of your body a long time ago and now a previously bruising grip became a comforting pressure. “You can’t fucking do this to me! Are you going to betray me too? HUH?!”

He couldn’t control himself as you simply sat there, wrapped in your blankets with a content smile on your face. You were leaving him. Didn’t you understand how much it would hurt, living everyday for the rest of eternity wishing you were there?

You had been sick your whole life. No doctor had ever lied to give you hope that you would live past twenty five and so you made the most of your time before you had to move on. Content with death since the moment of your birth, you strayed away from many relationships as they would benefit nobody but misery in the long run.

But something about Scaramouche just pulled you in.

You gravitated towards him, and he to you. Caught in each other’s orbit you danced for however long you had left. Unfortunately, it just wasn’t enough time. Cradling Scaramouche’s cheeks with your weak hands, you swiped away the ugly tears that marred his beautiful face. Pulling him to your chest, you immediately felt his arms circle your waist.

He tucked his face to the crook of your neck as he cried, pleaded. “Please don’t leave me too. Please, please, please. I love you. I love you so fucking much.”

Scaramouche heard as your heart stopped beating, your chest staying still. Your arms fell limp from where they had wrapped around his shoulders in a loose hug.

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farfromstrange · 1 year

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Daddy Issues | Matt Murdock x Reader

Masterlist

Inspired by this song.

Pairing: Matt Murdock x Reader

Summary: There are some scars from our childhoods that just won't heal, like daddy issues will somehow always affect our relationships, especially with men. It's the trauma that makes us afraid. Matt Murdock is a considerate boyfriend and he hardly ever raises his voice, so when he lets his anger out on you, he triggers something in you that you have never told him about.

Warnings: Angst, mentions of child abuse, daddy issues (not the sexy kind), childhood trauma, yelling, crying, small injury (reader cuts her finger), not proofread

A/n: This is entirely self-indulgent. I won't tell you why exactly, but let's just say today was not a good day and I needed to write this to feel better. It helped, for the most part. If you have/had a father who yells a lot and likes to blame you for everything, this is for you. But also basically everyone who's afraid of men yelling at you because you've been traumatized before. This has not been proofread or beta-d. It’s just a silly little comfort fic.

Tags: (people who answered the original idea and I think would enjoy this or asked to be tagged)

@igotanidea @lina-mar @redzie02 @hellskitchens-whore

[not my gif, credits to the owner mentioned under the gif]

In the heat of the moment, some people raise their voices. May it be a fight or a moment of excitement. When we get angry, we often resort to a louder volume and sometimes even verbal abuse. We say things we don’t mean. We wouldn’t be human if that didn’t happen sometimes, although most fights can be resolved by talking civilly. There is no point in screaming when talking like adults is a viable option that won’t hurt anyone. But it hardly ever happens, not when both parties are already worked up to the point of no return.

For you, there has not been a fight or discussion in your life that hasn’t resulted in a screaming match. Your parents often yelled at each other. You grew up like this, the voices of your fighting parents constantly in the back of your head until the day they divorced. And even after that, you figure you started hallucinating their fights whenever the world went quiet around you so you would have some noise in the back of your head.

Your father was the one who screamed the most. He yelled and scolded you whenever you didn’t act according to his standards or made even the smallest of mistakes, didn’t do something or just used the wrong tone with him, something that often didn’t sit right with him.

He always resorted to screaming. The context never really mattered, he just got louder, harsher and he used words that would confuse every kid and make their tiny brains overflow with the guilt they caused. And when you cried, he only waved it off because “there is no reason to cry, I’m just stating the facts”.

It traumatized you in a way many children who grew up in such families understand, and he made you believe that every man in your life has a reason to yell at you, to use you, to abuse you and constantly ask you for things even though you can’t possibly match up to all of their expectations.

You always expect to be yelled at by the men in your life. Even the smallest hint of the disappointment in someone’s voice makes you anxious and more often than not, you start to cry. It’s your defense mechanism. You’re fragile and you get scared easily. A switch gets flicked and you’re suddenly standing in the same house you grew up in, letting your father rain hell down on you because you were too scared to fight back.

The constant screaming made you scared of men, and it made you more careful with what you say or do around others. You tread carefully. You try to please and not to screw up too much, too scared of the consequences and possible negative reactions. In school, you used to do the same, always wanting to please the teachers and when they raised their voices, you often excused yourself and were left shaking and crying in the bathroom.

Matt Murdock has always been a man with a heavy internal conflict, and that conflict resulted in anger issues and his ever-present catholic guilt. When you met him, he came across as attractive yet dominant, and that scared you a little until you talked for the first time in the middle of a cozy coffee shop and he showed how soft of a man he actually is. He keeps himself locked away and that might make him seem unapproachable, but he isn’t. He’s the kindest man you have ever met, and his heart is set right. Out of all the lovers you’ve had, he is truly the best and most considerate when it comes to your relationship.

He treats you like you’re the universe to him and when you fight, it’s more often bickering than it is an exchange of vulgarities and screams. He takes his anger out on punching bags, not you, and when he hurts someone, it’s often criminals who deserve his wrath. His life is complicated, but it’s easier with you in it. He feels alive, he’s told you, and he wouldn’t trade that for the world, so he always makes sure you’re taken care of and happy before he looks after himself.

There is, of course, the issue with his enhanced senses. He’s blind but his senses are enhanced to an extent that most blind people don’t have. You found out about that early on in your relationship, but there’s never been a doubt in your mind about the love you feel for him, so it was no hard choice to stay.

Though dating the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen comes with its collection of issues. More often than not you have to stitch him up or search him in dark alleys and trash cans because he keeps getting in trouble, and the worry often eats you alive. Still, you comfort him when he’s had a bad day, always, and you make him the spotlight of your life every time. In your mind, taking care of him comes first.

But Matt always gives back. It’s his Catholicism, you’re sure of that. He can’t take help. He has to be the one doing the work and moving mountains. He is God’s disciple and he feels responsible for his city and the people living in it. His blindness feels like a gift given to him by God to conquer all possible battles, and while you don’t really believe in God, you have accepted that part of him with open arms and more often than not join him in his faith because life with him is surely not the easiest.

When Matt Murdock feels overwhelmed, he tries not to show it. He’d rather lock himself away than burden you. He’d rather struggle on his own than put the people he loves in danger or hurt them with his personal struggles and the pain that consumes him.

Matt is patient and he doesn’t care if you screw up, even though you apologize profusely most of the time. He’s patient because we’re all human. We all screw up. That is the principle that he lives by and he makes you feel like you can be more of yourself around him. So after a year, there are no more reservations and you feel a lot more comfortable in your skin.

Until this day, he had never let his anger out on you, and he had never opened his mouth to yell at you in any way. Until that day.

He’s different when he comes home. He finds himself at his wit's end, and he has been ever since that godforsaken murder trial started. When he comes home, you don’t think much of his distance toward you, the denial of a proper kiss, and his grunts as he lowers himself on the couch instead of asking you about your day. You don’t think much until it all goes wrong, and you’re not even sure at what point it does or what you did to deserve this, but there has to be a reason because the man you’re seeing right now is not the Matt you usually get to see.

We all have bad days sometimes, others more often, but this seems deeper than just a bad day at the courthouse. This is not the face of an exhausted man after a long work day that just needs some kisses and maybe a blowjob, or to have sex with his girlfriend in all his dominant glory with aftercare to put the cherry on top. This is not Matt Murdock, this is the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen that comes through the front door, tosses his cane into a corner, and then just falls on the couch like a wet sack of potatoes, his fists clenched as if he is ready to explode any second.

You’ve been taught to tread carefully, so you do. You approach him only slowly because you are worried, you always are. Perhaps it’s the line of questioning that has him exploding in no time.

“You okay?” you ask.

He props his feet up on the living room table and huffs. “Fine,” he says.

“You don’t look fine. Did something happen?”

You’ve brought him a glass of water, which he takes with a curt nod. Something is bothering him, but he won’t talk to you.

“Bad day at work?”

“It doesn’t matter now. I’m fine. I just want to forget that today ever happened.”

“You want some coffee?” you decide to ask instead.

“No,” he says.

His leg starts to bounce. It only does when he is agitated or overstimulated and is trying to deal with the world around him.

“Do you want me to run you a bath?”

He sighs. “No.”

“We still have leftovers, maybe I could warm them up.”

His tone is harsher this time, “No!”

You blink, a little taken aback by the force in his voice and involuntarily, you start to shake.

“I just want to be alone,” he adds, softer this time. “Can you… you know what, I’m just gonna get changed.”

And like that, he is gone. He disappears into the bedroom and you’re left flabbergasted. You want to ask what’s wrong, but you’re scared. You’ve never been scared of him before. It’s not him, it’s his reaction, and so you retreat into the kitchen.

Eventually, he comes out again, though he is still missing a shirt. “Have you seen my Columbia sweater?” he asks, the lights of the billboard reflecting off his marble skin.

“It’s in the washer,” you tell him.

“Why?”

“Because it’s dirty. Matt, what is going on?” You place your mug down and look at him, eyes soft and full of concern.

He only rolls his. “I just want my sweater.” Grabbing the used shirt from the chair at the dinner table, he slips it on. It’s not the fabric he wanted and he tenses up, hating the new sensation already.

“Are you sure this is about your sweater? You’ve been on me ever since you got in.”

“Yes, because you keep asking useless questions.”

“Useless?” You scoff. “So my interest and worry for you are useless?”

If there is one thing you have gotten good at it has to be defending yourself.

He brushes past you to get a beer from the fridge. “I told you, I’m fine.” He is good at brushing you off because he doesn’t like to admit when he feels weaker than usual.

“You don’t look fine.”

“Oh, my God, then stop fucking looking!”

“Okay, what the hell is your problem?”

He scoffs. “You don’t get it.”

“What don’t I get?”

“Everything.”

“Enlighten me then.”

“It’s not…” his chuckle is bitter. “Well, I guess it doesn’t matter. You’re gonna keep seeing problems where there are none, so talking to you makes no sense anyway.”

What did he just say? You are so confused and suddenly very angry that you forget you are holding a glass. You smash it down on the counter, and, as expected, it shatters into a million pieces. Most of them fall to the floor and right at his bare feet. His eyes darken.

Oh.

Now you are scared, and not in a way that resembles sexy foreplay. You are scared because he is turning into a stranger right before your eyes. Suddenly, all you can see is not your loving boyfriend Matt Murdock, you see the anger of both your father and your stepfather in his eyes and hear it in his voice and it instantly tells you, 'this is all your fault'.

“I’m sorry,” you mumble. “I didn’t see…”

“One night,” he says. He moves out of the kitchen, trying not to step into the glass.

You follow him with wide eyes. “What’s that?”

“One night,” he repeats his earlier statement. “That’s all I wanted. One fucking night where people don’t prod or- or want things from me. And what do you do? You keep talking and talking, and you don’t even care that I simply don’t want to talk.”

“Matt, that is not fair. I just wanted to-“ the tears start to prick in your eyes. “I’m sorry.”

“Jesus Christ.” And that’s where your strength stops and you retreat into your shell – the next words out of his mouth come so loud, you could have sworn they echoed off the brick walls and shot straight into your eardrums. “For once in your life, stop fucking apologizing!”

His hand lifts, mostly to underline his words, and with the bottle in his hand he is suddenly so close, your eyes squeeze shut at the gush of wind. You flinch, your entire body caving in on itself. It’s not even intentional, you can’t help it. You’ve been conditioned to expect the worst when someone raises their hand, and Matt has never done it before.

He realizes what it looks like the second your heart jumps and your blood rushes loudly in his ear. He can smell your sweat, the tears, and the fear that surrounds you. It’s your pheromones that change and something lingers in the air that makes him stop and think, what did I just do?

He has been so in his head and the city has been loud for hours, he lost most of his patience at the courthouse, and then you’re there all caring and lovely and he can’t help but tell himself he doesn’t deserve it. He doesn’t deserve you. He just wants quiet and to be alone while at the same time, all he wants is you, but it’s too much. It’s all too much.

And now, as you flinch away from him and his booming voice, he snaps back to reality and realizes he made a mistake. He’s never experienced you like this before, and it scares him.

“Did you just…” he begins, his voice soft and barely above a whisper.

He hears you fall to your knees, the taste of salt thick in the air and your breath shakes with every intake. You bite your lip and you collect the shards, trying to clean up your mess as if he would hate you if you didn’t. You whisper a silent, “Sorry.” And then he hears it. You’re sobbing, you try not to but you are, and it is his fault.

“Did you think I was gonna hit you?” he asks, dreading the answer.

You sniffle, not answering.

You flinched, he heard it, and not because you were surprised. You are scared, he knows.

He slowly approaches the kitchen. “Sweetheart, talk to me.”

“I just gotta clean this up,” you whimper and you brush the glass together with shaky hands. The tears are running down your cheeks in thick streams and your teeth have gnawed your bottom lip bloody, your throat dry with the denied sobs.

“I just gotta clean this up and then I can make you dinner or something. I don’t… I can fix this. I’ll fix this. I’m sorry.”

It’s your fault, you tell yourself. You pushed him. You deserve this. He worked hard the entire day and you annoyed him. He has every right to do this. In your head, at least. It makes all sense in your head while in reality, Matt has never been more shocked to read your body language than he is now.

He slowly kneels in front of you. “Answer me this,” he says, “did you flinch because you thought I was gonna hit you or because I yelled?”

You shrug, unable to look at him. One of the shards slides across your finger and you hiss, the smallest cut forming and causing blood to pool out of your skin. Still, you don’t stop. You need to clean this up before he gets even angrier at you. In your state, you don’t realize his voice has softened and he no longer stares at you with those blacked-out eyes. He looks sympathetic, almost, but most of all the guilt has spread throughout his features and his heart. He is aching to touch you, but you are scared and shaking and he doesn’t want to hurt you any further than he already has.

He had been so ignorant that he didn’t see the signs before.

“Why are you crying?” he asks again.

You wipe your cheeks. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to push you. It’s my fault,” you say. “I’ll clean this up, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have…”

“Hey.”

“No, I gotta-”

“Stop.” His hand is on your arm then. “You cut yourself.”

“I’m sorry,” it’s a mantra you’ve taught yourself to say in the hopes you could somehow fix this before it’s too late.

But it’s not too late. When you finally look up, he’s smiling softly, and his thumb is stroking over your skin in circles.

“I’m sorry,” it’s his turn to say it. “I didn’t mean to yell at you. None of this is your fault. I was so caught up in my own shit, I… God, I would never hit you. I just- I didn’t think when I raised my hand. I didn’t think what it might look like to you. And I didn’t think when I yelled because I… in my head, I wasn’t thinking.”

Your facade cracks even more to the point you are seethrough and your defenses have fallen completely. You’re a snotty mess, shaking violently in his grasp.

“I’m trying, I swear I’m trying to be better. Just don’t be angry with me,” your voice is bordering on helpless little sobs, your lips turned downward and God, you are shaking so badly, you haven’t done so since the last fight with your father when you were a teenager.

Matt’s face softens even more, but there is a pain in there too. He takes a paper towel to wrap around your injured finger and he holds your hand, not sure if he is allowed to touch anywhere else, but he wants you to know he is here and he is going nowhere. He is neither mad nor is he going to break up with you. You try to tell yourself that, but it’s hard with the demon in your head whispering all those awful things into your ear, reminding you that everything bad that happens can only be your fault and that there is no use for you but to destroy and disappoint. But you don’t want to disappoint, you want him to be proud of you. You want him to hold you and tell you everything is alright. But you’re scared and you feel so stupidly guilty for something you can’t even put a finger on. Your bleeding finger.

“Angry with you?” he says. “No.” Matt chuckles, but it’s broken and almost whiny as he does so. “I’m not angry at you, bug. Of course not. I was just angry with the world. I was angry at everything else, but not you. I’m not angry at you. I couldn’t possibly be. I’m sorry, it wasn’t fair of me to take it out on you. I realize that now. And the glass…” he forces you away from the chaos gently, helping you stand up without hurting yourself further. “It’s just glass,” he tells you. “I’ll clean it up. There’s nothing bad about breaking something.”

“But the mess,” you say.

“Fuck the mess. The whole apartment’s a mess.”

“I’m so sorry! I can clean it. I can clean up, I promise. I just… I’m so sorry, Matt.”

“Stop apologizing, baby, please. The mess doesn’t matter. The apartment doesn’t matter, and the glass does not fucking matter. None of this is your fault. You didn’t do anything but try to help. I had no right to yell at you. And my hand… I would never hit you. Never.” He squeezes your hand. “I love you.”

You hiccup, whimpering when he pulls you away from the glass on the floor and pulls you into his arms. His chin rests on the crown of your head and you mold into him, the tears taking on new speed and wetting through his shirt. He strokes your back, not sure what else to do, and his lips find your temple. “God, I’m so sorry,” he whispers. “I didn’t mean to scare you. I’m sorry. You didn’t deserve that, none of that.”

You cling tighter to him.

He keeps asking himself the same question over and over again. “Who hurt you?” he asks. It’s a valid question. A fear like that doesn’t just stem from nothing. Something happened in the past to have traumatized you this badly.

Your breathing eventually slows down, as do your tears, and you look up at him through swollen eyes. His white shirt is wet now, but he doesn’t care, he only hugs you back to his chest. “My father used to yell at me whenever I did something wrong,” you tell him, your voice muffled through his chest, but he understands every word.

His grip tightens. “Did he hit you?”

“Sometimes, but… I remember that one time I forgot to clean up after myself and he just… he…” The lack of oxygen makes you shudder and you hiccup again, nails digging into his back. “I’m sorry, he just… yelled at me. Sometimes, he’d slap me, but only sometimes. He’d threaten most of the time, but he didn’t do it often. And I mean, I was a hard kid to raise, I-“

“No, don’t blame yourself,” he is quick to cut you off. “You were a kid.”

You shudder again. “Well, I… you know, he blamed me for the smallest of things, so I got used to apologizing and trying to please everyone, but I can’t always do that. I try to fix things, but it doesn’t always work. He used to yell at me every damn time and I just… I get scared. I don’t like it when people raise their voices. It makes me feel so guilty and now I even broke a glass. That’s my fault. I shouldn’t have… you had a bad day, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to cry like this. I swear I’m not a baby.”

You move away to rub your eyes. He grabs your face, smoothing the pads of his thumbs over your wet cheeks. The heat has pooled under the skin in an upset blush.

“Don’t apologize,” he says. “It’s okay to cry. If I’d known, baby, I…” Matt can only shake his head in disbelief.

He loves you more than anything and to see you hurting because of something another man did to you, a man who is supposed to protect you, makes him feel all kinds of things, but none of them positive.

But his anger doesn’t matter. This is about you. He has to take care of you now, not himself, and definitely not your father. It’s just you on his mind.

You choke on nothing. “He told me I have no reason to cry because he’s just stating facts.”

Matt clicks his tongue. “No, don’t ever think that again. You have every right to cry when you feel the need to.”

“It makes me weak,” you say.

“Your father’s wrong. You’re the strongest person I know,” he says. “And the fact that he yelled at you and blamed you for things that were out of your control… no one has the right to treat you like that, not even your parents, and he should have never even thought about raising his hand against you. That’s abuse. I can’t believe- fuck! Do you understand that it wasn’t your fault? That he had no right to do that?”

“Yes, but… it happened. Maybe I deserved some of those slaps. I mean you… I- I don’t know. It happened, we can’t change it. And who knows, maybe he was right.”

“Stop it! That’s not true and you know it.”

“I know, but-“

“No buts, sweetheart. I would never raise my hand against you, I promise. I’m not like your father. No one should be like him. You deserve so much better.”

“I know you wouldn’t,” you sniffle, “it was just instinct.”

“Shh,” Matt kisses you gently, “I know. It’s like me dodging punches in a fight. It’s a defense mechanism. Your father, I… you’ve never said anything. I would’ve never suspected this.”

“‘Cause I didn’t think it was important. This never happened before. You never yelled before.”

“Oh, sweetie, I’m sorry. You should have told me,” he says. “It’s important to me. The last thing I wanted was to hurt you. I want you to feel comfortable around me, not scared.”

You nod. “And I am, really, it’s just… I thought I did something wrong.”

His smile is soft when he leans in to kiss you again, tasting the tears on your lips. “You didn’t. I let my anger out on you for no reason. You didn’t deserve that. It won’t happen again, I promise,” and he dives right back in.

You wrap your arms around his neck, relaxing in his arms as his lips move against yours with sweet precision, making you feel lightheaded. He scared you, that much is true, but it was neither you nor his fault and you realize that now, safe in his arms as he proves his devotion to you with a single breath into your mouth. With his gentle touch around your waist he promises never to hurt you, never to let his anger out on you again, and he promises that he will drive himself to hell personally if he ever scares you like that again because he couldn’t forgive himself if anything happened to you because of him. He couldn’t live with himself if he broke your heart or triggered the trauma you brought into the relationship from your broken childhood, and he promises that he will never leave you, never put you second and always hold you when times get hard because people screw up, bad things happen, and you might be at fault sometimes, but so is he and there is no reason to be put down for being human. He wants to teach you that, he wants to help you heal yourself, and you have never felt more in love than at that moment, losing yourself in his lips, eyes and arms.

He breaks the kiss, moving on to your forehead. “If there is anything else I need to know,” he breathes hotly against your already heated skin, and the exhaustion slowly starts to seep into your bones as the shakes and tension subside from your bones, “please tell me before I make another mistake that might trigger you.”

You take in a deep breath, shaking your head. “There is not much else. My childhood wasn’t the best, but that’s okay,” you say.

He brushes his knuckles over your cheekbone. “Bad enough. Promise you’ll tell me if something else might come up?” He resembles a puppy as he tries to meet your eyes, but he fails miserably.

So you promise him, “Okay.”

“Can you forgive me for yelling?”

Your tears have finally come to a halt. “Yes,” you say.

“Thank you.”

Your eyes fall on the mess on the kitchen floor again and you go to grab the broom. Matt’s arm around your frame stop you and he gently pushes you out of the kitchen. “Let me clean it up,” he says. “Put a bandaid on your finger and then go lie down. I’ll deal with it.”

“No, I broke it. Please, Matt, let me do this.”

“Not everything is your fault, sweetheart. Besides, you already cut yourself once and with how you’re shaking, the next time you accidentally cut yourself I’m sure you’re gonna cause more damage.”

“But I-”

“Go to bed,” he insists, “I’ll be there in a second and then we’ll cuddle so you know I’m serious when I say that I love you more than life itself.”

The weight and guilt fall off your heart. “I love you,” you tell him. “More than life itself, too.”

It’s not a lie. If there is anything or anyone you love, it’s him, and you’ve never been this in love with anyone before. It’s sickening to the point it hurts, but the pain is sweet and it’s all worth it because with Matt, you can be yourself.

The past matters just a little less with someone who loves you right by your side, and he would never give up on you like everyone else did before him.

#matt murdock x reader #matt murdock #daredevil #daredevil x reader #gender neutral reader #matt murdock imagines #marvel #matt murdock fluff #matt murdock angst #mentions of child abuse #hurt/comfort #matt murdock fic #daredevil fic #daddy issues (but not the sexy kind)

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loveisanimaginarydagger3000 · 8 months

Text

Daddy Issues

Natasha X Reader

Inspired by the song Daddy Issues by the Neighbourhood.

Warnings: Physical Abuse, Trauma, Difficult Childhood, Hurt/comfort, Domestic Violence, Child Abuse, Panic Attacks.

Please consider these Warnings before reading. This is a Mature Rated Fic.

Y/n was the newest member of the avengers team and Natasha was very intrigued by the young woman. She was always on guard and had a mask similar to the spy to not let their true emotions show. Curious as to why, Natasha watched the woman with caution, her instinct to not trust and find out the truth had gotten the better of her. But the truth would affect her more then she realised.

Daddy stuck around but he wasn't present Cheated on your mom but she never left him

The Avengers were sat around the kitchen ready for breakfast when Clint said, “God this tastes exactly what my old man used to make,” his tone nostalgic as he remembered his father making him breakfast. The team laughed and started to talk about their own childhoods due to prompt from the archer. You tensed slightly at the topic but made sure your walls stayed high as you didn’t need anyone knowing. However you failed to notice a certain redhead saw how you started to just push your food around on your plate and remained quiet. Not wanting to be there anymore, you made a reasonable excuse to leave and smiled at everyone before leaving raising no suspicions from anyone else.

First I didn't get it, now I understand

“What’s that now? Like 10-0?” the spy teased as she had once again pinned you to the training mats. You huffed out in annoyance as you hated training with Natasha as it always ended in teasing and you on the floor is positions way too familiar, except you knew she would never purposely hurt you. Not like he did.

“What’s that from?” She questioned while seeing the large scar on your stomach as your loose t-shirt had ridden up while being thrown on the floor.

“Just a silly accident as a child.” You quickly brushed the subject aside while pulling the ends of the black fabric down to cover it. Natasha saw the ways your eyes flickered with fear and conflict before your mask once again came back up.

“Oh ok,” she said, acting convinced for you to believe her, “Want to go again? Maybe you’ll land a hit this time.” Her tone mocking in a playful way but it only brought you another painful memory.

You heard shouting coming from downstairs before a little knock at your door. Your younger brother peaked his head around the door, his eyes full of fear.

“Y/n?” his voice barely above a whisper as he came into the room searching for his older sister.

“Hey I’m right here,” you softly spoke to him, attempting to calm him down as you could see how scared he was. “Why don’t you spend the night in my room?” you asked while pulling him in for a gentle embrace. You felt a little nod against your chest and pulled him into your bed. “You stay right there for me ok? You’re safe in here, he won’t get you. I won’t let him.” You pulled back to see tears threatening to fall but he nodded once again before you went to leave the room.

“Y/n please don’t go. He’ll hurt you again,” he pleaded as you reached for the door handle.

“It’s ok Y/b/n. I need to help mommy,” you turned to look at him curled in your duvet, “I’ll be fine.”

When you reached downstairs all you could smell was alcohol as you saw him. Your father was screaming at your mother as her hand rubbed over the red handprint across her face.

“Get the fuck away from her,” you spat as you ran over to your mother and pushed the man out of your way.

“You want to say that again you little bitch,” he growled as he shoved you away from your mother.

“I said get the fuck away from her!” you shouted, the rage that was bottled up inside you was now spilling out.

“I’d like to see you try and land a hit on me you pathetic little bitch,” he snarled while taking a swig of the bottle of alcohol in his hand before advancing towards your sobbing mother again. With all your strength you pushed him over before he could swing the bottle at your mother. You didn’t register anything till you saw the panic in your mothers eyes and the sinister look on his face before feeling a sudden pain along your stomach and your shirt becoming wet and sticky.

“Y/n?” questioned the spy as you had zoned out after her question.

“Huh,” you looked at her before replying, “Oh. Uh no thanks, I’ve had enough for today.” You smiled at her while rubbing the back of your neck, your nails digging into the skin there to punish yourself you being so vulnerable. “I’m going to go now Nat. Thanks for training,” you smiled at her before leaving her alone in the gym.

He broke her heart, left money in her hand So everything got paid for

“So Y/n, what’s your favourite childhood memory?” asked Tony as the whole team were enjoying a nice night in, sharing stories to provide entertainment.

“There’s so many how could I choose?” you lied while laughing with the others, trying your best to avoid the subject.

“Come on,” Tony said with a hint of stubbornness in his tone, “There’s got to be one that’s your favourite?”

“Yeah come on Y/n,” spoke a few other Avengers

“Ok, ok,” you raised your hands in defeat as you thought carefully, trying to find a happy memory. “It was my little brothers birthday and my mother and father gave us money to go to the local fair with,” you started trying to talk about your father in a way that didn’t seem like he ruined your life when that’s all he did, “He wanted to go on every single ride with me and practically dragged me around the place,” you laughed at the memory of seeing his face, his smile bright enough to light up a room. “But we went on this one ride that was too much for him and he swore to me he would never go on a ride ever again,” you chuckled at remembering his pale face as if he had just done the scariest thing in the world.

“Hey you ok?” you asked as he stumbled off the ride, a little smile on his face.

“Yeah I’m fine,” he gasped out while walking with you to exit the ride, “ I am never going on another ride ever again,” he exclaimed while looking at you. You raised your eyebrow at his suggestion before he quickly said, “Hey I’m being serious! That was terrifying!” you laughed at his seriousness before giving him a side hug and looking for your parents. After scanning the crowd you saw your father talking to another woman, his hands on her waist and a flirtatious look in his eyes. You looked past him to see your mother stood alone smoking, looking as if she was about to cry on the spot. You suggested to your brother that you could go find a game to play to avoid him seeing your parents.

A hand on your leg snapped you back to your thoughts. Natasha saw how after a moment or two of remembering the event your smile seemed to falter so she tried to bring you back to reality.

“Seems like someone was enjoying the memory too much,” she joked before changing the subject to spare you. After a while you slipped out of the room and no one seemed to notice. Well except for a certain redhead.

A few weeks later you found yourself at one of Starks after parties along with your team mates who had all seemed to had a bit to drink from the earlier main party. You were the only one there who hadn’t drunk anything alcoholic as you refused to drink anything like that. You zoned out while everyone started to talk as this wasn’t one of the things you liked to do. You started to pay attention to what was happening when you heard two male voices starting to get louder. You gripped the arm of the sofa you were sat in while your leg started to bounce slightly in anxiety. When Tony and Steve had started to properly argue and shout at each other you felt your thoughts spiralling out of control. Flashes how he would shout at you mother filled your brain, how he would beat her for wanting the best for their children, no her children, he had lost the title of being your father the first time he hit your mother. Other painful memories invaded your brain such as how he would hit you, pin you to the ground and do unimaginable things to a child and laugh as he saw your brother and mother shy away in fear. Your breath started to quicken and your hands started to tremble so you decided you needed to leave the room as quick as possible.

Suddenly you stood up and left the room as everyone was preoccupied with stopping the super soldier and billionaire from fighting. You managed to get to the roof of the compound, the place where you would go if anything became too much such as now, before your legs gave way and you collapsed against the wall. You let your body take control as you couldn’t keep the emotions in anymore. Your whole body violently shook as you sobbed into your hands.

All you could see was him. His face. His hands as he held you down. The screams of your mother. Your screams. The silhouette of your younger brother watching. The smell of alcohol. The feeling of pain. The feeling of when he would-

“Y/n…” Natasha’s tone was laced with fear as she saw you against the wall. After seeing you leave when the boys had started to fight she seemed to piece together an idea of what had happened to you and went to check on you. You didn’t look up when you heard her you couldn’t bring yourself to do it. What would she think of you now? A weak girl troubled by her past? A pathetic excuse of a person? A waste of space? She stepped towards you to try and comfort you but you flinched away at the sound of her footsteps.

“Please,” you sobbed out, ”Please leave me alone,” you begged, “Please don’t hurt me,” you croaked out before glancing at her feet to see where she was.

And when you told me the whole story I felt like throwing up

“Y/n,” she softly whispered, “Its me Nat. I’m not going to hurt you I promise.” You looked up slowly to see the spy through your tear filled eyes.

“Nat?” your voice shakily asked.

“Yeah it’s me. Can I come closer to your?” She watched as you tensed up before nodding at her request, your eyes meeting hers.

I can see it on your face it was rough Left a bad taste on your tongue

She slowly walked towards you and crouched next to you so you could see where she was without raising your head too much. “Hey its ok Y/n,” she cooed causing you to relax, “I’ve got you now. Your safe.” She repeated the phrase again and again till your sobs turned to whimpers and your body wasn’t shaking as much. “Can I touch you?” she whispered scared if she spoke too loud you would feel scared again. You weakly nodded and she gently cupped your face with her hands and wiped away the tears on your face.

And she didn't even take any drugs She would rain all day Couldn't wait for her sun to shine

You looked into her green eyes expecting to see disappointment or even disgust but all you saw was love and care. You hesitantly reached forward with your hands, wanting to hold her close and find comfort in someone but you stopped. You didn’t want to cross any boundaries with her as you thought it was bad enough that she was seeing you like this. Picking up on what you wanted, she carefully moved her hands around your shoulders and pulled you into her lap. She held you close and tightly as you started to cry into her neck. You murmured apologies against her skin until she told you it wasn’t your fault. You stayed quiet after that and just held onto her. She didn’t realise how much you needed her but she was happy to stay with you through it all.

And you made it shine There when she cried, you saved her life

#natasha #marvel fanfiction #natasha romanoff #natasha romanov #natasha x reader #natasha x y/n #comfort #hurt/comfort #tw abuse #child abuse #marvel cinematic universe #marvel fanfic writer #marvel fic #marvel fandom #natasha x you #panic attack

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steddieas-shegoes · 1 year

Note

Requests: Steve adopting an abandoned child post earthquake in Hawkins after the spring break from hell. And him realizing all the ways he was hurt as a child due to his parents neglect. And how he overcomes it and raises his baby-child with gentleness, warmth, patience and love

OKAY GENUINELY I GOT SO CARRIED AWAY WITH THIS PROMPT AND IT STILL WASN'T AS MUCH AS I WANTED TO DO. FAIR WARNING: this is an emotional roller coaster. It ends HAPPY. But there are a lot of sad and bittersweet moments and feelings leading up to that moment. There is the mention of child neglect, and that can be difficult for some people to read, even with a happy ending, so please keep that in mind before starting this. Also, this is not how the law or CPS works at all, and it wasn't in the 80s either, but this is fiction and I do what I want. I hope someone can continue this idea somewhere because it is so special to me now. This is 6200 words of me not knowing how to wrap it up with a bow. I hope you love this my darling, thank you for this one. - Mickala ❤️

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Steve spent the last 12 hours pacing the waiting room floor at the hospital. He’d promised the kids he would stay until there was an update on Eddie and Max, and their parents had insisted they go home after they’d been quickly attended to for their minor injuries.

Max was stable, but not awake. They weren’t sure if she ever would be again. Steve passed that on to Nancy so she could call everyone.

Eddie finally made it out of surgery, alive, but barely.

He’d lost a lot of blood and they weren’t able to give him a transfusion until Wayne got there to donate.

It was touch and go for another few hours in recovery.

But things calmed down a bit, his heart rate settling at a normal rate, his oxygen maintaining where it should be with the mask on, the bleeding stopped and his blood regenerating on its own.

He wasn’t awake, but he was alive.

That was enough for Wayne and Hopper to kick him out of the hospital and make him go home.

“Shower. Eat. Sleep. In that order, Harrington,” Hopper said, the gruffness in his voice overruled by the concern.

He was up to speed on everything he missed, and he wasn’t thrilled about how much Steve had put on the line for everyone.

So Steve left, even though he wanted to stay, needed to have eyes on Eddie, on Max.

He had to trust that they were being taken care of.

He made it home, did two of the three things Hopper told him to. His shower was long and hot, finally able to wash away the blood and dirt and Upside Down particles that clung to his skin for the last couple of days. His dinner was quick and unfulfilling, but frozen meals usually are.

And then he did try to sleep. He tried on the couch first, his usual go-to spot after crises. Then he tried to go to his bed, hoping the weight of his comforter would help lull him to sleep.

But two hours later, he was still wide awake.

So he got up, put on jeans and a sweater, and made his way to the school, where emergency services had been set up.

It was chaotic, still very little organization amongst groups. The firefighters had been dispatched all over town, and most medical professionals had been called into the hospital or to help EMTs on calls. A handful of teachers had been put in charge of the check-in process here, making sure anyone who came through was on a list of survivors first, then sent to help where they were needed if they were able.

Steve was able, so he put his name on the list and was told to stand with a group at the far corner of the gym. Everyone in this group was waiting for a dispatch crew of firefighters to come get them to help locate survivors.

They were given vests, gloves, and helmets to wear, and given quick safety briefings. They were told not to move any rubble, that if they suspected someone was under some, to call for the professionals. They were just extra eyes and ears because everyone was stretched too thin for a disaster of this magnitude and help from local towns was slow to arrive.

Steve figured this would help him, if he stayed busy and managed to help people, he wouldn’t think about how helpless he was when it came to Max and Eddie.

The first location they were dropped at was a small neighborhood on the outskirts of town. Most of the homes had been completely demolished, cracks in the ground swallowing pieces of them. If there were any survivors here, they would be in desperate need of medical attention.

But after nearly four hours of searching, only one person was found, their leg trapped under a large wooden beam. The leg was broken, but they were fine other than that.

Steve felt relief that nothing more serious had happened there.

But the second area was worse.

It wasn’t a neighborhood, just a small wooded area surrounding two homes a good distance apart. Surprisingly, the homes were still standing, but everything around them was destroyed. Fires had been only recently extinguished, downed trees and power lines blocking most of the driveway and road in front of them.

“This should be relatively quick, both homes are empty and cars are gone, so we think everyone managed to get out safely, but we do need to be sure,” the firefighter in charge of this group said before leading them forward.

The smaller of the two houses was empty, though a mess, like the occupants had rushed to pack necessities and threw anything else on the ground as they rushed to get out.

The other home, though, was surprisingly clean. Kept up in a way Steve wouldn’t have expected for the panic most people showed while escaping town.

Everyone assumed maybe the occupants hadn’t even been home when the quake hit.

But Steve decided to go upstairs anyway.

Something was telling him this wasn’t normal.

It felt familiar in a way he didn’t want to acknowledge yet.

No one else followed him, all of the volunteers congregating in the living room area to discuss their next location before heading back to the school for a break.

Steve followed his gut, and his gut told him to check the bedroom at the end of the hall.

He opened the door, not surprised to see that nothing seemed strange at first glance.

Then he saw movement out of the corner of his eye, under the bed.

He would’ve checked there anyway, that’s where he would have hidden in this kind of situation, too.

“I guess this place is all clear,” Steve said, quiet enough not to be heard by anyone downstairs yet, but loud enough to be heard by the person under the bed.

“Wait!”

It was a kid, Steve figured as much based on the items on the desk in the corner and the poster on the wall.

The small boy crawled out from under the bed, panic on his face.

“Are you gonna take me to my parents?” The boy asked, lips wobbling.

“I’m gonna try. I’m Steve, what’s your name?”

“Elliott.”

“Nice to meet you, Elliott. How old are you?”

“Nine.”

Jesus Christ. Where had his parents even been? Why weren’t they looking for him?

He hoped they were on their way back and just stuck trying to get into town.

But a part of him had already known that wasn’t true. A part of him knew the moment they pulled into the area that he’d find someone left here, someone who shouldn’t have ever been alone.

“Alright, Elliott, let’s get you back to the school. We can put your name on the list so your parents can find you easier, okay? I can stay with you until they get here.”

“I don’t know if they will.”

Steve’s heart stopped for a moment.

Sure, his parents never came back after the Upside Down bullshit, but he’d been a teenager and adult. They probably assumed he wasn’t involved in any of it and was fine.

But Elliott was nine. Even his parents would have come back for him at that age.

They never should have left him alone to begin with, but even they knew the trouble they’d be in for leaving him at that age after a fucking earthquake.

“Of course they will, buddy. It’s just hard getting into Hawkins right now, you’ll see on our way back.”

He placed his hand on Elliott’s shoulder, not surprised when he tensed up under him for a moment before he relaxed.

Steve hadn’t been used to casual touch until he met Nancy.

But Elliott deserved to feel cared for right now, so he kept his hand there, let him get used to it for a moment, and then guided him out the door and down the stairs.

Most of the group had moved back outside, but a few people remained.

One of the few women in the group looked over at his entrance, her jaw dropping when she saw he had a child with him.

“Oh my God!”

Steve held his hand up, knowing Elliott probably didn’t want to draw a lot of attention to himself.

“He’s okay. He managed to find a safe place to hide. His parents might be looking for him though so we should get him back,” Steve said calmly.

No one crowded him, but the firefighter waiting by the van that was transporting everyone checked his heart and lungs, made sure he didn’t have any visible wounds or injuries.

Elliott didn’t let go of Steve the entire time, his hand gripping his forearm like he was terrified to lose him among the group.

Steve didn’t try to pull away, not once.

He knew Elliott needed someone. He could be that someone for him.

—-------------

When they arrived back at the school, they put his name on the list, and since he was a minor, they had him go to one of the classrooms that was being watched over by security while they tried to contact his parents.

He told them they left for a business trip over a week ago, he didn’t know when they would be back, and his aunt checked on him every morning, but he hadn’t seen her since the quake.

Steve stood by as he spoke to the responsible adults, not letting Elliott out of his sight.

Elliott begged for Steve to come with him to wait while they tried to locate his parents, so he did.

He realized pretty quickly that Elliott must not have slept last night; He curled against Steve’s side on the floor almost immediately and fell asleep, light snores making Steve smile to himself.

The floor was hard, the wall behind him was somehow harder, but he wouldn’t move short of another emergency.

They stayed like that for hours, kids coming and going as more were found and reunited with their families.

Elliott was the youngest one left in the room, all the other kids high school age.

When one of the men from the group he was in earlier came in the room to get another kid, he asked if there was any update on Elliott.

“Nah, they’re still trying to find them. The aunt um…” The guy looked nervously down at the sleeping Elliott. “She didn’t make it. Was on her way to try to get him when another crack hit the road she was driving on, car crashed. They contacted the dad’s business and were told he’s out of the country and won’t be returning calls until next week.”

“How long are they gonna make him stay here while they figure it out?”

“No clue, man. I’ll ask someone.”

But he didn’t come back and Elliott deserved something better than the floor to sleep on.

“Hey, buddy,” Steve said, gently nudging his shoulder to wake him up. “Sorry, just gotta run and ask someone something real quick.”

Elliott grabbed his shirt, holding it in his fist tightly.

“Don’t go! Please,” he begged, tears welling in his eyes.

Steve’s heart broke.

He’d been this kid for so much of his childhood, practically begging people to stick around so he didn’t have to be drenched in loneliness again.

He knew he would be right back, but to Elliott, especially after the quake, he probably felt like anyone who left would be gone forever.

“Come with me. We’ll find you some dinner while I find out how things are going.”

He stood up, his legs numb from sitting on the floor so long, and helped Elliott find his balance after waking up so abruptly.

They left the room, the security nodding them on when he saw Steve was with him, and walked down the hall to the cafeteria area.

They were serving ham and cheese sandwiches, bags of chips, and water for everyone. It wasn’t much, but it was enough for now.

If he could find a phone, maybe he could get Robin to bring him and Elliott more food.

Elliott shyly thanked the person handing out the meals, and Steve slowly guided him to an empty table while his eyes searched for anyone he recognized.

He almost did a happy dance when he saw Dustin and Claudia across the room.

“Hey, that’s actually my friend and his mom. Can you wait here while I grab them?”

Elliott nodded nervously, clearly only letting him walk away because he would be within his sight the entire time.

Steve ran over to them, wincing slightly when the bite on his stomach started pulsing. Probably should take it easier while that healed.

“Dustin!” Steve exclaimed as he got closer.

Dustin’s head shot around, smile lighting up his face as he realized it was Steve.

“Dude! Everyone’s been trying to find you for hours. Have you been here all day?”

“Kinda. I came to help with searching and I found a kid earlier. They’re trying to find his parents, but he’s been kind of attached to me.”

“Damn, I hope they find them soon. Phone lines keep going down. You seen Hopper come by yet?”

“No, has he gotten any sleep yet?”

“Doubt it. Ma, do you have any cookies left for Steve?”

Claudia came bustling over, digging through her purse as she walked.

“Oh, I’m sure I do! Hi, Steve, dear. Hope you’re doing okay in all this madness.”

“I’m doing alright,” Steve gave her a small smile as she managed to find the cookies and hand them over. “Hey, do you know the parents of Elliott Devers?”

“Oh, I know of them, sure. Only met them once, they never seem to be in town. He’s a sweet boy, his aunt seems to take care of him most of the time.”

Steve filled her in on what he knew so far, that Elliott’s aunt had died, that no one could reach his parents, that he’d been alone in the house for at least a full day before Steve found him.

That Elliott didn’t seem to want to be separated from Steve.

Dustin was watching him talk, eyebrows furrowing like he was trying to think of something.

“Wait, his dad’s the guy who was under investigation for tax evasion, fraud, and identity theft, isn’t he?”

Steve’s stomach dropped.

His brain made connections that only children of rich parents can in a matter of seconds.

His parents ran to another country on “business” because that was the only way they were allowed to leave while he was under investigation. No one could reach them because they gave fake information so they could go into hiding. Because he was guilty of all of the things he was under investigation for and didn’t want to lose everything and end up in prison.

Fuck.

Claudia must have realized the same thing, a deep frown settling on her face.

“Elliott is the boy sitting at that table?” She asked as she pointed towards him.

He was watching them as he ate, eyes wide as he kept glancing around the room.

Steve nodded.

“If they ran, and they aren’t coming back, where will he go?” Steve asked.

“I’m sure he’ll be placed with a family who can take him until they can figure out a more permanent place, but that may be hard right now with so many people leaving Hawkins. He may have to leave town,” Claudia said, though Steve could tell she was trying to figure out how to take him in, even if only for a few days.

“What would I have to do to keep him while they keep looking?”

“Oh, that’s a question for Hopper, sweetie. I’m not sure you’d fit the requirements, even though I think he’d be very lucky to get to stay with you,” Claudia touched his arm, giving it a gentle squeeze in comfort.

“Is he coming by?”

“Hopper? Yes, he just got done at the hospital handling some things for Edward,” Claudia said.

“Eddie, Ma, how many times do I have to tell you?”

“The tone! Watch it!” Steve said before Claudia could respond.

She smirked at Steve, then gave Dustin a look that said she wasn’t going to listen to him and walked away.

“I gotta go with her, she’s bringing dinner to Wayne at the hospital.”

“Is Eddie awake?”

“Not yet, but they think it could be anytime. They said the drugs in his system are heavy enough to keep him out for a while.”

“But he seems okay?”

“Yeah.”

“Max?”

He almost didn’t want to ask, but he had to.

“No news.”

Steve nodded once, acknowledging that Dustin didn’t want to talk about it right now, that it was tough to even think about how she was probably not gonna wake up anytime soon if ever.

“Hey, come by my house tomorrow, okay? We can watch a movie or somethin’.”

“Sure.”

Steve gave Dustin a quick hug before making his way back to Elliott, who looked like he might start crying any moment.

“Hey, buddy. Sorry that took longer than I thought, but…” Steve pulled the bag of cookies from behind his back with a smile. “I got cookies! Claudia makes the best chocolate chip oatmeal cookies. You’ll love them.”

Elliott relaxed a little, smiling up at Steve as he reached for the bag of cookies.

“Is she nice? She looks nice.”

“She’s awesome. She always brings me soup if I’m sick.”

“Is that what moms do? My aunt sometimes does, but she doesn’t know how to make the kind I like.”

Steve bit his lip.

“What kind do you like?”

“My favorite is tomato and noodles. She can only make chicken noodle. It’s okay, but sometimes it has a funny taste.”

Steve smiled at him, glad he was at least talking, even if what he was saying was heartbreaking.

“I’m sure Claudia can make you some tomato and noodles. I’ll call and ask.”

“But not now, right?”

Elliott’s voice filled with panic, his eyes widening.

“No, I’m staying with you right now. The chief should be here soon and we can figure out what’s going on, okay?”

“Like, the chief of police? You know him?”

“Yeah, Hopper’s nice. Don’t let his mean face scare you. He’s kind of a teddy bear.”

“Excuse you, I’m not a teddy bear. I’m a grizzly bear,” Hopper said behind Steve.

Elliott laughed, and Hopper tried to hide a small smile. Teddy bear.

“Are you Elliott?” Elliott nodded. “Can we go talk for a few minutes just us? I promise Steve can wait right outside the door.”

Hopper gave Steve a look that said he was about to ruin this kid’s day as if it didn’t already suck enough.

“Um, can Steve come in the room too?”

“If you want him to, sure.”

“I want him to.”

“Okay then, let’s go.”

Steve grabbed everything off the tables, throwing the trash away on the walk towards the teacher’s lounge area that had been set up for the cops to conduct phone calls and interviews as needed.

It was empty now, probably thanks to Hopper taking control quickly.

They sat down around a table, Elliott’s hand finding Steve’s quickly.

“Alright, Elliott, so I have a few questions and then I have some news,” Hopper started, his voice maintaining no emotion the way he’d been taught.

“Okay.”

“How long have your parents been gone this time?”

“I dunno. A week, maybe a little longer.”

“And you were alone that whole time?”

Elliott looked to Steve, like he needed help to answer, but Steve just smiled at him and mouthed ‘just be honest, you’re not in trouble.’

“Most of the time. My aunt came to check on me in the mornings and bring me food for the day.”

“Aunt Janice?”

“Yeah.”

“Bud, I’m sorry to tell ya this, but your Aunt Janice was in a really bad accident and didn’t make it,” Hopper’s voice started to show some emotion, but Steve squeezed Elliott’s hand so he wouldn’t focus on that.

“She died?”

“Yeah, bud. I’m sorry.”

“But who will bring me food in the morning?”

Steve couldn’t do this. Holy shit, he could not do this. How was Hopper able to do this?

“Well, we still haven’t been able to call your parents. Do you know exactly where they might be?”

“I don’t know. They don’t tell me where they go.”

Steve and Hopper looked at each other.

Hopper knew Steve had been in a similar position when he was younger, but no one checked on him. Hopper had often been the one to show up at his door during his early teens to make sure he had food and wasn’t hurt.

“What if he stayed with me until you find them?” Steve asked Hopper.

Elliott turned to him.

“I can stay with you?” He asked excitedly.

“Oh, I’m not sure about that. There’s a process for this kinda thing,” Hopper began.

“Then start the process. He’s staying with me,” Steve said firmly, not caring if he sounded rude, not caring if Hopper hated him for it, just wanting Elliott safe and in a house instead of a school converted to a disaster relief zone.

Hopper eyed him up and down, and the way Elliott was holding his hand and bouncing excitedly in his chair.

“Alright, fine. But it’s a week by week basis until we can get ahold of his parents,” Hopper said directly to Steve.

“Steve, do you have a microwave? I make popcorn so good, like so good. I can make it tonight even!”

Steve smiled at him, and then at Hopper, who was watching with a fond smile.

“I’m sure I have what you need to make some popcorn, buddy.”

“You wait here, I have to get the release from CPS. They’re in the front office.”

Elliott went on and on about all the things they could do while he stayed with him, and when he found out Steve had a pool, he didn’t even stop for breath as he explained that he was the best swimmer when they took a field trip last year to the pool and that he could probably even beat Steve in a race.

Steve just smiled and agreed.

—-----------------------

A week with Elliott went by, and it was easy.

Steve was terrified how quickly he just fit in.

He fit in at his house, making it feel like a home, with his rambunctious energy and nightly popcorn making.

He fit in with the kids, showing interest in D&D even though he’d never heard of it before.

He even fit with Robin, who kind of hated kids, but thought Elliott was probably the cutest kid she’d ever met.

One night, while Dustin and Mike were showing Elliott how to build a character, Robin asked him the question he’d been dreading.

“What happens if he can’t stay?”

“What do you mean?”

“I’m assuming they’ll find his parents soon, and when they do, he’ll have to go live with them again. Or at least his mom since his dad will be in prison for life at this rate. How are you gonna handle that?”

He had no clue. He wanted Elliott to have parents who stuck around, and who loved him, and let him pop popcorn every night.

But realistically, even if they did come back, that wasn’t what his life would look like.

His life would be a lot like Steve’s was, sad and lonely, and he didn’t deserve that.

“I’m gonna fight for him. I don’t know what that means yet, but I know that whatever is best for him is what I’m gonna make sure happens.”

Robin wrapped him up in a hug, her arms squeezing him to her.

“You’re gonna be a great dad someday.”

No one had ever said that to him before.

But maybe he could believe it.

—-------------------------------------

Steve was the first person to come to the hospital when Eddie woke up, Elliott excitedly chattering from the backseat of his car the whole way.

It was helping Steve’s nerves, but he knew he wasn’t giving Elliott the attention he needed.

“Sorry, buddy. What was that?”

Elliott was quiet for a moment.

“Are you worried?”

Steve smiled at him in the rearview mirror, his hands gripping the wheel tight.

“A little. You remember how everyone told you about Eddie? How he saved us all and almost died?”

“Yeah, he’s a hero!”

“He is. But he’s still healing and I’m just worried about how hurt he is.”

“Oh. So we can’t hug him or hold his hand to help him feel better?” Elliott groaned. “Oh man, I was gonna bring him popcorn!”

Steve laughed quietly to himself.

“I think he’s on a pretty strict diet right now, buddy. Maybe when he’s out of the hospital we can have him over for a movie and you can make him some.”

“When will he be out?”

“I dunno yet. I think it might still be a little while.”

“Will I still live with you then?”

Steve gulped.

“I hope so.”

“Me too,” Elliott said quietly, staring out the window as they pulled into the hospital parking lot.

His mood was a bit somber as they walked through the halls of the bustling hospital, going to the fifth floor in the elevator where Eddie’s room was.

When he got to the right room, he knocked on the door even though it was open, smiling in at Wayne.

“Hey, come in, Steve. Eddie, Steve’s here,” Wayne said as he turned to Eddie, who was awake, but mostly horizontal still in bed.

“Steve?” Eddie’s rough voice asked.

“Hey, Eds. Hope it’s okay I brought my buddy, Elliott, to say hi. He’s heard a lot about you and Dustin and Mike and Will have been teaching him D&D for when you get out of here.”

Steve walked close to the bed, holding Elliott’s hand. He seemed shy suddenly, which wasn’t like him, not since he was living with Steve.

“Hey, Elliott. You keepin’ Steve company?”

“Yes, sir.”

Wayne snorted.

“Oh, son, you don’t have to be formal with Eddie. He’s barely older than you in his head.”

Eddie glared at Wayne, but smiled at Elliott.

“Seriously, bud, just Eddie is fine. So you ready for a campaign?”

“I dunno. Dustin said maybe I can play with you guys?”

“‘Course you can. I have so many ideas when I get outta here.”

Eddie turned to Steve and gave him a smirk.

“As long as we can host at your place?”

Steve blushed, remembering the last time he had Eddie’s full attention on him, back when his words “make him pay” sounded a lot like “I love you.”

“Yeah. Yeah, we can do that. When do you get out of here?”

Elliott was loosening his anxious grip on Steve’s hand as the nerves wore off.

“They said not for a couple weeks, but I’m gonna walk right out of here the moment I can feel my legs again.”

Elliott let out a giggle and Eddie smiled.

“You can help me, right? I may need some support to run for it.”

“No! You have to stay until you’re all better, goofball.”

“That’s exactly what I told him, Elliott. You’re much wiser than he is,” Wayne said with a roll of his eyes.

Elliott moved closer to the side of the bed, his hands folded in front of him.

“Um. Could I hold your hand? So you feel better?”

Steve was going to cry.

Eddie kind of looked like he might, too.

“Yeah, I could use a hand to hold, bud. Thanks for offering. Wayne’s hand gets sweaty, but don’t tell him I said that,” he whispered the last part to Elliott, but loud enough so everyone could still hear.

Elliott held his hand, sitting carefully on the edge of the bed.

He told Eddie all about the character Dustin and Mike helped him build, about how they might run a practice campaign with him soon. He told him about the popcorn he would make for the first time he came over.

Steve watched fondly, realizing quickly that this wasn’t something he could lose.

Not Elliott, and not Eddie either.

—-----------------------------

Elliott’s parents were still missing.

It’s been almost a month, Eddie was released from the hospital a day ago, and Elliott was still living with Steve.

The longer he stayed, the more it would hurt if he left.

They got into a routine.

School had been canceled for the rest of the year, so they mostly just made breakfast together, went in the pool, hung out with the kids, visited Eddie, played basketball, and had popcorn every night.

Steve knew Elliott was happy, he knew he was happy.

He was terrified it would end.

They were hosting Eddie for a movie night, and Elliott was more excited than ever.

Steve was a nervous wreck.

He was in charge of making sure Eddie didn’t overdo it, making sure he took his nighttime medications, and getting him to bed at a reasonable hour. According to Wayne, his pills made him tired and he would fight sleep if you didn’t force him into a bed.

Steve spent the day cleaning, baking, and preparing.

By dinner time, when Eddie would be arriving, Elliott was starting to question it.

“What’s wrong? Do you not want Eddie to come over?”

“No! Of course I want him to come over.”

“So…why are you being like this?”

“I’m…”

“Is it because you love Eddie?”

Steve choked on air.

“What?”

“Or do you think Eddie doesn’t love you?”

“Elliott, gonna say a big kid word right now. What the hell do you mean?”

Elliott rolled his eyes.

“You want to make Eddie feel happy and safe here, and you always get this stupid look on your face when we visit him, and then when I asked Wayne if you two were boyfriends he laughed and said ‘probably soon.’ So you love him, right?”

Steve’s mouth was working open and shut, open and shut, no noise coming out.

“Two boys can be together, you know. Robin told me.”

“She what? When?”

“When she told me two girls can be together.”

Steve put his face in his hands and couldn’t help the laugh of disbelief he let out as Elliott touched his back to comfort him.

“Did you not know you loved Eddie?”

“Uh. I guess I didn’t know that other people thought I loved Eddie.”

“Oh. So are you gonna be boyfriends?”

“I…I don’t know, buddy. Maybe.”

“I think you should be. Then it might be like I have two dads.”

What?

What.

“What?”

Elliott pulled his hand away and suddenly seemed nervous.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to say that.”

Steve couldn’t handle the look on Elliott’s face.

“Elliott, look at me, buddy.” He waited for Elliott to look at him. “Is that what you think of me as? Like your dad?”

Elliott nodded.

“Come here,” Steve said, pulling Elliott into a hug. “You’re the best kid, you know that?”

Elliott nodded, and Steve let out a wet laugh.

“Uh, everything okay in here?” Eddie said from the doorway.

“Eddie!” Elliott let out, and despite the mood of the previous conversation, he was smiling from ear to ear.

Eddie smiled at him and pulled him into the least hurt side of him for a hug.

He looked at Steve with a questioning look. Steve just shook his head quickly, wiping the tears from his eyes quickly.

“Can I make popcorn now, pleeeeease?” Elliott asked, bouncing on his heels.

“Yes, fine. But only one bowl right now. You can make more after dinner.”

“Okay, dad!” he yelled as he ran to the popcorn maker.

Eddie’s brows raised to his forehead as he looked at Steve, who was crying buckets at this point.

“What’s that about, Stevie?” Eddie whispered as he came up to him.

“I um, I guess he just feels like I’m his dad,” Steve shrugged.

“Are you okay with that?”

“I just don’t want him to go.”

“Oh, sweetheart,” Eddie said, pulling Steve into a crushing hug that had to hurt him. Steve sniffled against his shoulder, letting himself cry for a minute. “Did Hopper say he may have to go soon?”

“No, but I mean, if they find his parents or if CPS decides he has to go to a real family, then he’ll have to.”

“Stevie, they wouldn’t just take him. Not when he’s safe here and wants to be here. I promise.”

“But what if he goes somewhere far away or to people who won’t let me see him?”

Eddie held the back of his head against his shoulder, placing a kiss to the top of his head.

“He won’t. We’ll fight for him to stay here, okay? He’s got a family here, with us. Right?”

“Us?” Steve asked as he pulled away.

“Yeah. Us. Sound okay to you?”

Steve could only nod as he wiped his running nose.

How attractive.

“Hopper still doesn’t have any idea where they are, right?”

“Nope.”

“They’ll give up eventually. I hate to say it, but they won’t put more effort into a kid who has a safe place to go when they have bigger problems. Like how half the town is still homeless because of a fucking earthquake.”

“That’s a big kid word!” Elliott yelled from his spot at the counter.

“I’m a big kid!” Eddie yelled back, smirking at Steve.

“But I’m not!” Elliott yelled as they heard the popcorn machine starting up.

“Fine!”

Eddie placed a kiss on Steve’s forehead, then one against his lips.

It was soft, chaste, barely a kiss at all.

But it was a perfect first kiss for them.

—----------------------------

Another month passed with no news.

Eddie was at Steve’s house almost every day, spending time with Elliott, spending time with the party, with Steve.

Steve had converted the main guest room into Elliott’s permanent bedroom, but was scared to think of it that way still.

Eddie tried to reassure him, but even he was nervous that no final decisions had been made and the case remained open.

Until Hopper came by one night, well after Elliott went to bed. Eddie was doing the dishes while Steve was prepping some fruit for Elliott’s breakfast before his first day of summer camp the next day.

“Hop.”

Steve felt his stomach sink.

They were going to take Elliott.

“Steve. Can I come in?”

“Yeah.”

Steve let him in, his face forced into casual calm, but on the inside he was already screaming and crying about what was about to happen.

Hopper sat down on the chair, gesturing for Steve and Eddie to sit on the couch.

“So.”

“You’re taking him aren’t you? He can’t stay.”

“What? No.” Hopper frowned. “No, Steve. The opposite actually. We’re closing the case. CPS said after interviews with him, even if his parents did get found or come back on their own, he wouldn’t be put back in their care.”

“But what about putting him with another family?”

Hopper sighed. He watched Eddie place a hand on Steve’s knee to calm him down.

“They’ve spoken in detail with him about his current situation. They believe that you’re the person he wants to live with and they aren’t going to disrupt his life any more than it already has been. If that’s alright with you, of course.”

Steve felt like he could breathe for the first time in his life.

“He can stay? With me?”

“He can stay with you.”

Steve let out a sob and fell against Eddie’s side. Eddie was crying too, but trying to keep more control so he could comfort Steve.

“CPS has to do a home visit to finalize everything, but if you’re good with it, you can officially adopt him. He’s been considered abandoned by his parents, and since it’s been 60 days, they relinquish all rights automatically.”

“How quickly can we do that?”

“We? Both of you?”

“I mean, can we both even do that?”

Hopper shrugged.

“Don’t know. But they’re probably expecting just Steve for now. They’ll call tomorrow to schedule everything and give you a chance to talk to Elliott.”

Steve and Eddie both nodded.

“I’m gonna leave you two to it, but call me if you need me. Congrats, Steve. I know you wanted this. I know he wanted this.”

“Thanks.”

Hopper saw himself out, closing the door quietly so it wouldn’t wake Elliott up.

“Eddie, did that really happen? Am I dreaming?”

“No, sweetheart, you aren’t dreaming.”

“I get to be his dad.”

“Yeah, you do.”

“And you?”

“What about me?”

“Do you want to be his other dad?”

“I would love to, baby. Let’s ask him tomorrow, though. It’s up to him.”

Steve nodded.

It was up to Elliott, but he knew what Elliott wanted.

He knew what he wanted.

They were gonna be a family. A real family. No more worrying about someone deciding to take Elliott away from him.

He could finally use this house that had been left to him by his parents for something other than being miserable. He could keep it filled with love and laughter and happiness and maybe the occasional stupid argument.

Maybe Elliott would make friends at school in the fall and want to have hangouts here. Maybe they could both save up some money and take him on a vacation somewhere. Maybe someday they could get married and Elliott could be the best man.

Anything could happen.

Steve couldn’t wait.

#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #requests #ficlet #wayne munson #jim hopper #the party #steve finds and bonds and adopts a whole child #and eddie comes in like hello im dad number 2 #it's giving so many emotions #good luck #hurt/comfort

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witch-hazels-musings · 1 year

Text

so long, loneliness

warning: hurt/comfort - (reader is ignored, talked over, feeling alienated by friends)

includes: Childe, Diluc, Thoma

character x gn reader | anthology

Childe

he notices ...

the energetic way you were talking has fizzled to nothing, like a sparkler whose flame was doused in a puddle

the power of your laugh has faded, been replaced the the obnoxious cadence of those around you

the way you try to interject, only for the opportunity to be stolen by another

he notices ... and he won’t stand for it

Group outings were not your jam. You knew this, and yet you convinced yourself to go out with your friends, and their friends, because, well, it had been a while and it was good for you to get out of your house sometimes. Still, you wished it wasn’t such an exposed place, and that you’d chosen a spot more in the middle so it wasn’t easier for you to be left out of the conversation.

The group had been talking about their jobs for some time now and though you worked in a similar field, it was hard to interject with so much going on. Not to mention you kept feeling like someone was trying to get your attention, but maybe that was your imagination.

“Oh yeah- I’ve had customers like th-” you started, only to get nowhere.

“Ugh, one time this lady came in a few minutes before we closed and wanted to order like seven things off the menu!” One of the others in the party interjected, pulling the attention away from you and back toward them. At this point, you felt like it was on purpose, but you had to remind yourself they’d done that to everyone, you were the only one that stopped trying.

The edge started to feel lonelier and lonelier. The bustling harbor drew your attention since the conversation wasn’t worth your time anymore. You watched citizens pass underneath on the main strip. They seemed to be enjoying themselves as they stopped by the vendors to peruse their wares, or follow the tantalizing scent of freshly cooked food. If you could have it your way, that’s what you’d be doing - at least then you could more easily slip away.

There was a crash behind you, another table knocked a cup onto the ground but when you looked past them you saw a familiar face leaning against one of the decorated railings. Shooting a quick look at your table you realized you were the only person who noticed him but when you waved he didn’t respond. Instead, he looked upset, though you couldn’t figure out why.

“Um, I’ll be back,” you said to the person sitting next to you. You didn’t really know them, but at least they nodded to show they heard you before returning loudly to the conversation at the table.

You grabbed your stuff and carefully made your way toward the brooding man standing in the darkness. “This is why people don’t like you,” you teased once you got near enough. The tall ginger took a moment to react to you being there, but when he did his eyes seemed to finally find color.

“What?” he looked confused, but unlike what you’d experienced all night, at least he looked at you.

“You’re standing in the shadows with a murderous look on your face; it’s why people find it hard to approach you.”

“Now hold on, I have plenty of friends,” he shot back as he pushed himself away from the beam and placed his hands on his hips.

“Sure,” you rolled your eyes but laughed at the shift in his behavior. You weren’t sure how Childe came into your life - it was like one moment he just ‘poof’d’ into existence and never left. The amount of times you stumbled across him was strange, considering how mysterious he made his life out to be. “Anyway, is there something bothering you? You’re face looks --” you asked, mimicking the expression you saw on him before taking a look across the scene as if seeing it from his perspective would give you insight into what made him scowl like that. From what you could tell, the only things visible were patrons of the restaurant, and the tops of buildings.

“Not anymore,” he responded and took a step between you and what you were looking at, “Come hang out with me.”

“W-What? Right now?”

“What better time than right now?”

“Childe, I’m with people. I can’t just go.”

“Yes you can. This place is dead. Besides, I’m way more fun,” he winked and took a step closer to you. It made your stomach flip, especially because he seemed to be boxing you in with little room to escape. This was another reason he had so many few friends - the intensity.

“Maybe -- but --” looking back to the group, you thought about what they’d say if you just left. It didn’t seem right to just dip out ... but ... you did consider doing just that a few minutes ago so ...

“Mmm, okay, I see where I stand. I get it, leave me here all by my lonesome ...” Childe bent toward the railing, his body crumbling as if the thought of your rejection physically hurt him.

“Ah! Hold on a second -” you pushed his chest to try and keep him from falling over and making an even bigger scene than his ‘despair’ was already causing, “archons, you know I like you! Now stand up, we’re in public,” you couldn’t help but laugh at the puppy-dog like expression he had, but as soon as he shifted back to the intense Childe, it was your turn to avoid crumbling to the floor.

“Hah,” he moved so fast. In an instant he pinned you in the corner, his hands gripping the railing to keep you in place while he closed the distance between the two of you, “so you do like me.”

Blinking, taken-aback, you stammered, unable to form a sentence. The sharp grin creeping across his lips made your skin burn; why was it so hard to breathe?

“And you said no one liked me.”

“I - wha-?”

Childe continued to look at you until his face became unreadable. He was looking at you, but it was ... more than that. It was like whiplash, and you weren’t sure how to survive it. Luckily, the group you came with erupted in noise and, in an instant, Childe moved giving you much needed space to breathe.

“Hey, come on! Don’t keep me waiting!” he shouted, already half-way down the stairs, hand extended, beckoning you to take it. Biting your lip, you contemplated where you wanted to be. Option one would lead you back to the edge of the table where you had to scramble to be heard, while option two ensured you’d be at the top right next to someone who actually wanted you there.

Rocking your head back and forth you gave it some more thought until your uncertainties turned into a nod. With a giddy smile on your face, you dashed toward him and grabbed his hand.

You couldn’t feel it, it was hard to tell, but when you smiled at him he felt a wave of relief because this time it was real, this time, you gave it to no one but him.

“Try and keep up!” he exclaimed but never ran faster than you could manage.

Diluc

he notices ...

the smile you had when you first arrived is hidden, is fake and doesn’t look like you

the way you fidget, leg bouncing, head down, nails pushing back the cuticles that have seen many stressors

the glances to the tavern entrance, your mind plotting the path to your escape

he notices ... and he won’t stand for it

The tavern was always loud but for some reason it seemed louder today. Perhaps that’s why they couldn’t hear you when you spoke up, that makes sense? Right?

Your friends burst into laughter and you appeased them by participating even though you missed what was so funny.

“How can someone be so hot and so stupid at the same time” you heard as you took a sip of the drink you didn’t want in the first place. It tasted bitter, leaving an unpleasant tang in your mouth.

“This is why getting to know someone first is important. Ugh, and he thinks he’s all that. You should just break up with him.”

“Yeah -- but I like him,” the boy lamented across from you, his head dipping toward the wooden table in despair. In the back of your mind you knew this conversation wouldn’t go anywhere. How many times had you tried to convince him to break it off, and how many times did your suggestions go unheard?

Still, there was a lull, perhaps you could interject, “I know you like him, but maybe this is your sig-”

“Friend, he literally can’t find his way around Mond,” your other friend interjected, cutting you off. If anyone were looking, they would have seen how much you deflated when the two of them kept talking, unaware you were there at all.

“It’s a hard to remember!”

“He’s lived here all his life!”

“So?”

“AND ITS A CIRCLE!” they shouted as they threw their arms in the air. The sudden loud outburst drew the attention of by-standards and you felt an uncomfortable amount of eyes on you.

“See, that’s hard to remember.”

“Honey, no,” they laughed and brought out a laugh from your friend sitting across from them before dropping their head in disbelief. “I can’t with you, hah.”

“I’m - um - going to go get more drinks --” you said but were cut off, ignored, again. Normally you didn’t mind. The three of you had been friends for so long and they were both a lot more energetic than you so even though it looked like they were alienating you, they really weren’t. It’s just how they were -- there were plenty of times you got the chance to talk -- at least for a bit -- sometimes. With a sigh, you turned toward the bar, their conversation fading the further away you got.

Most of the tables were filled so only a few spots were left open at the bar-top. A couple here, several loners there, and then you, sliding in between knowing you wouldn’t be here long enough to take one.

“I’ll be right with you,” the bartender said while you pulled out your money to settle the bill. This was your chance to leave - it was getting late, you had things to do tomorrow - your friends wouldn’t notice if you left anyway. Glancing back at them you saw they were in a heated conversation, unaware you weren’t still with them. Yup, they wouldn’t even notice. “What can I get for you?”

“Oh, nothing I just-” you looked up and saw Diluc Ragnvindr standing on the other side of the bar. He tugged at his glove before resting it on the counter and you lost your train of thought. If anyone thought Diluc was unattractive, they’d be lying. “Sorry I -” Fumbling with your money, you took longer than you wanted in opening the small bag, “I just want to pay my tab.”

“Alright,” he left for a moment before returning with a small slip of paper. “That’ll be 400 mora.”

“Wh-Wait? Really?” You counted the drinks in your head and, based on what you could calculate, that didn’t add up.

“The last drink you had you didn’t like it, so I excluded it from your bill.”

How did he know you didn’t like it? Was he ...? “Oh no, you don’t have to do that, Diluc. I don’t mind,” you fingered through the change in your pouch fully intending to pay more than he requested. It would be wasteful otherwise.

“It’s no problem,” he reiterated and glanced at the table you came from, “Headed out for the night?”

“Yeah -- I um -- I have to get up early,” you lied.

“It’s late. Are your friends not going with you?” Diluc placed his hand back on the bar top. If you were looking at him, you might of noticed the way he stared down the loners within earshot of your conversation.

“No,” you answered with a sad smile, “they’re distracted, and I don’t want to shorten their fun so -- anyway, besides, I’m used to walking by myself,” you added and placed your mora on the counter, putting a few extra coins down as a ‘tip’. Diluc groaned, but didn’t say much else.

“Charles,” Diluc called out while you put your bag away and turned toward the door. There were a few people standing behind you, waiting to get close enough to order a drink; so you apologized as you pushed through them. When you reached the front entrance, you looked back to your friends to wave goodbye but they didn’t look up.

Suddenly, a hand appeared on the doorknob. You stepped back to move out of their way but were shocked to see it was Diluc. The look on your face was enough for him to answer the question floating in your head.

“I’ll walk you home,” he explained so matter-of-factly like it was expected of him to do so.

Throwing up your hands, you shook your head, “That’s really not necessary. Besides it’s so busy right now ...”

He opened the door and a wave of fresh nighttime washed over you. It mixed with the smell of cedar and wine, a somehow comforting scent. When he called your name you listened, “It’s late and would be unsafe for you to walk by yourself. I’ll ensure you get home safely.”

The noise from the tavern seemed so distant now that the outside world was welcoming you. It was like everything paused. Normally you had to jump at the change to interject, but Diluc wasn’t like that. He waited; with his hand on the door and the other extended toward your back but never touching. He waited.

“If you’re sure,” you hummed, a little overwhelmed from the intensity of him.

“I am,” he replied and though you couldn’t feel it, though it was hard to tell, when you smiled at him he felt a wave of relief because this time it was real, this time, you gave it to no one but him. “Shall we?” he asked and willed his heart to slow at the sound of your gentle laugh and a soft, ‘okay.’

Thoma

he notices ...

the way you stand to the side as those around you block you out; you’re kind, and they’ve taken advantage

the way you shake your head, say ‘go ahead,’ when you clearly wished they would have let you have it - at least once

the smile you hold when you speak up and the frown it turns into when you’re left with no reaction

he notices ... and he won’t stand for it

The shops always had the best things. Lately they’d gotten even better; mostly likely due to the lifting of the vision hunt decree that kept the islands isolated from the rest of the world. With less restrictions, the vendors and merchants were finally able to bring in new wares which made the shopping districts boom with business.

You were excited to go with your friends, especially since you’d had to pick up extra shifts lately. It felt like eons since you last did something fun, something for you, so you made sure to take your time getting ready.

At first, things were normal, lively, inclusive, but as the evening went on you started to feel left out of the group. While you were still looking at a shop, everyone else was rushing down the packed street to see the next thing. The amount of times you turned to share what you found with a complete stranger, or find yourself scanning the crowd for your group would have been enough to pay for all the items you found.

Considering it had been a while for everyone to get together you tried your best to satiate the turmoil rising in your chest. It hurt to be left out, but would it hurt more to go home knowing you’d be left alone anyway? At least out here it seemed like you were a part of something.

“Oh! Look at how pretty! Let’s check it out!” Your friend shouted, her hands wrapped around two other friends as she pulled them after her. You all had agreed to hold onto each other so you wouldn’t get lost in the crowd but as several people separated you from the rest of your group, you realized they had forgotten about it.

You didn’t recall eating anything, so why did your stomach hurt and your throat feel clogged? Frustrated, you pinched the bridge of your nose only to be knocked to the side by some kids rushing through the bustle. You stumbled into a group of older gentlemen who asked if you were okay. Embarrassed, you bowed in apologies only to bump into some woman who was less accepting of your ‘I’m so sorry.’ All you wanted was to have a good time and, right now, you were doing everything you could not crumble.

“Padron us,” someone interrupted your swirling thoughts as they grabbed your wrist and began to pull you through the crowd. You looked to see who it was but could only make out their bright red jacket and blonde, bouncing ponytail. “Oops - sorry about that,” he chuckled as he knocked into a group not paying attention to their surroundings, “almost through,” he said, seemingly, to you.

When the two of you were finally free, Thoma made sure you were safely out of the way before letting you go.

“Woah, that was wild wasn’t it?!” he chuckled and dusted himself off. He took note of his surroundings and you noted how he stood in front as if to shield you from the crowd.

It was hard to catch you breath, but you did what you could in the safety of the space Thoma created. “Thank you, Thoma.”

“No problem! It’s dangerous to be in a crowd like that alone.”

“Yeah, well I was-- yeah, super dangerous,” you said, biting back the comment you wanted to say, i wasn’t alone, or at least, wasn’t supposed to be. “What brings you here on such a busy day?”

Thoma ran his hands over his hair, the action pulled on the short red jacket he always wore, “Running some errands. I just needed to grab a few things, that’s all.”

“You always work so hard. You need a day off,” you commented while your eyes scanned the crowd for your friends. It was a small hope that you’d find them, but it was worth a shot.

“Haha, I don’t mind. Plus, if I hadn’t been out here I wouldn’t have stumbled across you. So, I’d call this a good day.”

You turned your attention back to Thoma who was rubbing the back of his neck and sending you a kind smile. You liked Thoma, of course you did. He was always so warm, thoughtful, and capable, it was impossible not to like him. And here he went out of his way to save you from the crowd. Add this to the reasons why you had such strong feelings for him.

“I guess I do owe you one for saving me.”

He threw up his hands, “Its no trouble-”

“Nope. It is. You’re super busy and I took some of your time. So, how can I help?” He seemed a bit shocked by your comment but after a moment he relaxed into soft laughter and resigned himself to accept he couldn’t wiggle his way out of it.

“If you want to come help me run some errands ... maybe?”

He looked so cute asking and you could already see his brain working on a way to convince you it was really alright. In the end, there was only one answer you could give him.

“Absolutely. I’m ready to work!” You rolled up your sleeves and moved next to him, ready to dive back into the crowd for Thoma.

He chuckled again as he turned about-face toward the slew of people. “Alright then. With two of us we’ll get it done in no time.”

You beamed, excited and ready to go. “Mmhm!”

With confidence, you took a step forward only to be stopped by Thoma’s hand around your wrist, “ah, maybe it’s better if I go first and you -- ahem -- hold onto me so we don’t get separated.” His cheeks looked a little red, and he could only manage to glance at you. Considering he was asking someone who wasn’t his partner to have prolonged physical contact with him, you understood how embarrassing the situation was (and hoped he couldn’t tell you thought the same).

“A-alright,” you agreed and watched as he guided your hand to red fabric that stuck out above his belt.

“Here we go, ready?” You nodded and took a step closer to him. The two of you shared flickering glances before he steadied himself and pushed forward, “P-Pardon us!”

You couldn’t feel it, it was hard to tell, but when you smiled at him he felt a wave of relief because this time it was real, this time, you gave it to no one but him.

Tomorrow, you’d tell your friends something came up and to not feel bad about being separated because, even if you weren’t with them, you didn’t end your night feeling lonely.

#hazels works #genshin #genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #childe x reader #childe x gn reader #diluc x reader #diluc x gn reader #thoma x gn reader #thoma x reader #genshin hurt/comfort

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sweet-honey-fruit · 2 years

Note

I saw you were asking for a request so I thought of something. What would the harbingers (Dottore, Pantalone, Tartaglia, Capitano, Arlecchino) do if someone hurt they're s/o to get information about them? Have a nice day btw :D

This this THIS! I’m a sucker for these kinds of things. It’s definitely a guilty pleasure of mine with these scenarios. Thank you for this, I had a lot of fun writing it!

Harbingers With Hurt S/O

Warnings: Violence, mentions/descriptions of torture and death, use of pet names, possibly OOC Capitano cause there’s literally little to no information about him, spoilers for Fatui Harbingers lore

Arlecchino

She doesn’t want to admit how badly her heart ached when she saw you walk in battered in wounds and bruises. Yet you still greeted her with a bright smile.

All she did was stare at you with a blank look on her face, wrapping her arms around you and giving you a kiss on the top of your head

You held a special place in her heart, so seeing you like this raised an unbelievable amount of worry and anger, but she wouldn’t let you see that

Her voice came out in a hushed whisper, swaying you back and forth slightly, “Tell me my beloved, what has happened to you?”

You’re hesitant, of course. You know how she can get, especially when it comes to you

But you especially know how she gets when you’re not upfront and honest with her

“Treasure Hoarders wanted information about the whereabouts of the delusion factory,” The moment the words leave your mouth, she brought you closer to her before letting go

Her face is stone cold, but you can practically feel the infuriation radiating off of her like a waterfall

It leaves you shaking a little bit, and you’re not even the one she’s livid at

She sends you to Dottore to get patched up, making sure to not-so-subtly threaten him to keep you safe and to not turn you into one of his experiments

She’s using these circumstances as a training exercise for some of her children in the House of the Hearth to gather information

Once she has the information she needs, you better believe she’s going absolutely batshit crazy

And I’m talking about leaving the Treasure Hoarders mangled bodies at other Treasure Hoarder camps to send a message

That message being that if they touch you again, she’ll make sure every single one of them will perish by her hands personally

Capitano

He’s not the type of man that pays attention to those that he deems weaker than him

He doesn’t find them worthy enough for his time

Yet when one of his Fatui subordinates delivered him the news that you’ve been captured and tortured by a group of Nabushi in Inazuma-

Well, he could make this one exception, couldn’t he?

He’ll seek to hunt them down himself

He wants them to understand the mistake they did for touching the only person he has deemed worthy for his endless time and attention

For every mark that was bestowed upon you, he will make sure he doubles it both in numbers and in pain

He won’t outright kill them, he wants to get back home to you as soon as possible

But we will leave them barely conscious

Surely the Rifthounds can take care of them. They gotta eat too after all.

He’s grinning the whole time he walks away

Hearing them scream for him to save them as the Rifthounds bite away at their flesh

For anyone else the sickening sounds of tearing flesh and blood curdling screams would be enough to show mercy

But to him it’s music to his ears

Maybe next time they would think twice before using you to get information

Dottore

He’s cackling to himself when he found out

The poor subordinates that informed him are quivering and praying to The Tsaritsa that they won’t feel his wrath

Cause this man is insane, but in that moment, that is the most insane he has ever been

Thankfully The Tsaritsa seemed to answer their prayers cause he dismisses them to bring you to him

Although one managed to climb up the list to be his next test subject when they declare that you’re being seen by a Sneznayan doctor so it “might not be a good time”

He snaps out a “I’ll treat them myself, your lucky my priority lies with them right now, otherwise I’d already have your flesh ripped away and replaced with metal”

He makes a mental note to do it later, for when you’re escorted in, he’s furtively seething

Littered in cuts and bruises, a deep cut slashed along your side, and lightning shaped scars surrounding it

He has a good idea who did it already, and why it was done

As he’s treating you, he’s tracing along the lightning scars, letting out a small hum

“My dear, tell me, what exactly happened.”

This man intimidates you from his voice alone, and you can’t even form the words to speak

Even though he knows, he wants to hear you say it, to just confirm that his anger is justified

Not that he cares on rather it is or isn’t, but his superiors certainly do

He can sense your timidness which makes him grin. He finds it so cute, but now is hardly the time to be having those thoughts

He reassures you that it’s okay, you can tell him. He’ll make it all go away. He’ll make them go away. Just tell him, he’s there for you.

And you do tell him in a hoarse voice, and he finds it pitiful.

Some Dancing Thunder Kairagi thinking that they’re entitled enough to put a hand on you, just because they believed you would tell them the Fatui’s plans

He doesn’t say anything after that, staying uncharacteristically quiet. Which is more daunting to you than if he were to spill out threats

He continues to treat you in silence. And once he’s done he’s escorting you back to your shared bedroom within the palace.

After, he’s having some of his subordinates fetch the ones that hurt you. When they are brought in, well, let the experiments commence

He’s certainly enjoying hearing them scream in agony as he tests out the effects of having multiple delusions. Hearing them beg, and plead for him to stop. But he doesn’t. He’s sure you did the same thing. Pleading them to just let you go. They didn’t stop till some Fatui Skirmisher’s stepped in, so why should he? But there wont be any Skirmisher’s saving them.

He’s making sure they suffer for a long, long time

Pantalone

“Oh, how pitiful” he states as he walks into Dottore’s lab

He’s been told that you’ve been sent there after having a— rough encounter, to put it lightly— with a few Shogunate soldiers

He saw the pure exhaustion on your face, and yet he still maintained a smile

“I can see you were determined to give it your all. But do not worry sweetheart, for I will fill in and give it my all for you.”

He won’t only hurt the Shogunate soldiers indirectly, oh no. He’ll hurt the whole Shogunate army.

Slowly, he would cut off their money supply through the Northland Bank (don’t ask how that works, I don’t know myself but for the sake of this, it works). I mean, you can’t do anything without the very thing that gives you the pathway to do anything in the first place, right?

He’ll watch from the shadows as the Shogunate army is scrambling for funds, and ultimately scrambling to regain power

It would take a meeting with Kujou Sara in order to settle things. His only request was that the Shogunate stays out of the Fatui’s business, and most importantly, stay away from you.

You know how I said he would hurt them indirectly? That’s because he’ll have others do it for him.

He’ll give some to Dottore as test subjects, and some to Arlecchino for target practice for the kids. He’s just as much of a supplier as he is a taker.

While everything is going on outside of your knowledge, he’s keeping you close to him. Holding you, walking you to and from work, and even allowing you to tag along with him on more PG related missions for lack of a better term

He’s a man of endless influence throughout Teyvat, and he will not hesitate to use it to rip apart the nations for you. Especially if they dared to touch you like they did.

Tartaglia

Definitely the most sane one when it comes to it, and that’s saying something

Especially since he’s the one that witnessed it first hand

As stated previously in another post, he’s already paranoid anytime you’re not around him since the Fatui have a lot of enemies

So when he went out looking for you since you took a tad bit longer to get groceries than it normally would, he found out that his paranoia was justified

Imagine his surprise when he found out that it’s not Treasure Hoarders or Hilichurls, no, it’s the Millelith of all people hurting you

“Well well, what did I just walk in on? Am I interrupting something?” He has a smile on his face but it doesn’t seem very happy

Perhaps that’s because his eyes are showing nothing but unadulterated hatred towards the group of men that think it was a good idea to beat you around for information on him and the Fatui

“If you wanted information you could have just came and ask me yourself, but instead you had to go out and dig yourselves your own grave. What a shame.”

He’ll instruct you to turn away, cause he’s pretty sure that what he’s about to do to them would traumatize you for life. He doesn’t want that for you.

When you do, this man is pulling out all the stops

Slicing and dicing, aiming and shooting, hydro and electro

He wants to watch them suffer, and he’s grinning like a mad man when he watches the life drain from their eyes

As much as he wanted to make them suffer more, he had to cut it short since he still had to prioritize you

He’s going to pick you up and carry you back home no matter how much you want to protest and insist that you’re okay

But this man is stubborn and he’s not having any of it.

He’s taking you home and cuddling you close, not letting you go even after you’re all cleaned up

His laid-back persona is broken as he apologizes to you, that he’s sorry that he put you in danger

Please reassure him that it’s not his fault and give him plenty of kisses

He’s not leaving your side for a LONG TIME

#genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #genshin men #genshin men x reader #childe x reader #pantalone x reader #capitano x reader #arlecchino x reader #dottore x reader #fatui harbingers x reader #fatui harbingers #genshin hurt/comfort #childe #pantalone #arlecchino #capitano #dottore

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suntoru · 10 months

Text

LET ME HEAL YOUR HEART.

summary: they broke your heart three years ago. you thought he moved on, but you find him on your porch at two am.

a/n: AHAHAHAHAH I KNOW THAT SUMMARY SUCKED BOOTYCHEEKS BUT I DIDNT WANT TO GIVE TOO MUCH AWAY

wc: 1.3k words

warnings: angst to fluff, hurt comfort, violence, physical restraint?

a knock at the door. ‘…it’s two am on a tuesday, who could it be?’ you think to yourself. confusedly, you walk to the front hallway, unlatching the lock. swinging the door open, you don’t know what you expected to see, but it certainly wasn’t this. confusion morphs into pure shock the second you see who the mysterious visitor is.

it’s… him. your ex. the man who was once your world, and the same reason it came tumbling down oh so many years ago. god, he’s so breathtaking, it almost makes you fall for him all over again. but this time you’ve learned your lesson, you won’t, you can’t let him break your heart again. with a lump in your throat, you immediately attempt to slam the door shut. and you’re almost successful, if it weren’t for his hand that reaches out to stop it at the last second.

“…can we talk? …please?” the same words you sobbed as you begged him to stay. you stay silent, giving him hope that there was actually a chance to fix what he broke. “no.” this time, you manage to close the door. “y/n…” he sighs, but you’re too lost in your own thoughts to even pay attention to what he’s saying. after all this time… why now? a tear runs down your face, a barely audible sniffle following suit.

then, another knock. in a gentle voice, he asks, “are you alright?” “i’m fine.” you attempt to say in the harshest voice possible. he sighs. you were always bad at hiding your emotions, and he knew just by hearing your voice crack at the end. “…please… let me in.” “…” “open the door.” he knocks slightly louder. much to his surprise, the door swings open.

“honestly, what more do you want from me?” you glare. “can we talk?” he repeats himself, crossing his arms. “and i already told you, no.” you scowl. he stays silent, feeling a stab of self-hatred towards himself for hurting you so much that all you want to do is forget his entire existence. he sees you attempt to shut the door again, but he sticks out his leg to stop you.

“please… can i at least say something?” he begs. you scoff in annoyance. “fine. then leave and never come back.” he takes in a deep breath. “i regret what i did. three years ago.” “…what?” it comes out softly, breaking through your cold facade. but just as quickly as that surprise appeared, it fades. “i-i don’t care.” he nods slightly, a slightly hurt expression on his face, but it’s not like he didn’t expect that response.

“i made the wrong choice. i should have fought for us, i should’ve…” his voice breaks for a spilt second. “i should’ve never let go.” he gives you a bittersweet smile. you look away, trying to feign annoyance. “i… never stopped loving you.” he stares at you, even as you refuse eye contact. “i still love you.” “well… i don’t.” you choke out.

it’s an obvious lie, one even a child could tell was false. “you’re lying.” he simply states. “i don’t… i don’t want you in my life anymore!! so just …leave!!” you attempt to snap at him, blinking back the tears that were building up. he felt a stab in his chest, the same one as four years ago when you pleaded him to stay. “yeah… you’re lying.” he looks at you softly, as if begging you to break the walls you set up and admit how you truly felt.

“i-i’m not, so go!! get out!” your voice rises with emotion. he sighs, but doesn’t move an inch. “…did i hurt you that badly for you to completely shut me out?” he mumbles as he feels another pang in his heart.

“shut up.” you spit out. he goes silent. you looked so… broken, but you just won’t admit you’re hurting. your words sting, but he understands why you want to lash out at him. “you’re still hurt.” he murmurs. “i know you don’t hate me.” he looks at you intently. “i-i do.” you lie. “i hate you a lot. i hate you more than anything else.” “you don’t mean that.” he says calmly. you scowl at him.

“you don’t know what i feel.” “no, i don’t. but i know you loved me four years ago.” he smiles sadly. “i can see in your eyes that it still hurts.” “shut up.” you try again. “just leave. you didn’t have a problem doing it three years ago, what’s different?” he winces. he knows you’re just hurt, but it still hurts to face the truth.

“i don’t want to.” he says softly. slowly, he takes a step in your house, careful not to make any sudden movements. his eyes pierce through yours. “look at me. let me in.”

“j-just go!!” you scream, the tears you fought so hard to keep in spilling free. “i hate you! just leave! i don’t need you in my life!” your voice breaks as tears roll down your face, he can’t help but take another step towards you. he’s so close he can hear your breathing. “no.” you can feel his arms wrap around you as he pulls you close. you’re pressed against his chest, feeling the warmth of his body. “you loved me then, and you still love me now, so why won’t you just admit it?”

“l-let me go!” you sob, trying everything to break free. thrashing against his hold, hitting him, kicking him away… “i’m not letting go. not now, not ever again.” he says simply. he holds you tighter, keeping your face pressed against him. “i hate you, go away, get out of my life!!” you scream. “you don’t mean that.” he says firmly. “stop saying those words and look me in the eyes.”

“y-yes i do! i hate you, i hope you die, go away!!” completely ignoring your threats, he wipes away your tears. “y/n. you’re hurting yourself; stop.” “leave me alone, let go!” as you continue to scream, he just stares. “you never stopped loving me. that’s why it still hurts.” “i don’t need you in my life!” trying to pull away, you attempt everything to get away.

“you wanted me to come back.” his voice is calm, he watches your movements, knowing you were trying everything to break free. “i regret leaving. i should have fought for us, but i gave up…”

“stop, stop, stop…” you sob, voice pained and broken. “…please… let me go…” your pleas break his heart, as his expression softens. “i’m sorry. i won’t let you suffer anymore.” he holds you gently, and you can see the tears roll down his face. “i’m sorry that i left you with no answers or reasoning. i’m sorry that i left you alone.” “go away…” you sniffle, still resisting against him.

“i’m not leaving. i should have fought for you, i should’ve never stopped loving you.” you still thrash and scream against his hold. “listen to me. i love you. so much.” his voice is soft and desperate, as if pleading you to listen. “i know you thought i moved on, but you were always in my thoughts. every day for three years.”

“j-just please, stop, i don’t want to remember…” you beg. “i know it hurts… i know your heart is broken. so is mine. but it doesn’t have to stay like this.” “i hate you, i hate your face, i hate you for leaving!!” you scream, throat hoarse from all the yelling. “i know.” he smiles sadly. “but i’m not giving up this time.”

“i hate you for caring, i hate you for coming back, and i hate that i still love you!! stupid, stupid, stupid…” you collapse in his embrace, no longer having the energy to fight back. “i know.” he whispers. “i’m stupid for leaving, so stupid for hurting you… but i promise, promise, i won’t ever make the same mistake twice.”

“so let me heal your heart.”

─ ✰ AYATO, CHILDE, KAVEH, XIAO, KAEYA, VENTI, KAZUHA, WANDERER?, HEIZOU + ANY OF YOUR FAVS.

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hyperfixat · 4 months

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hbd to me!!!!!!! here’s a vent fic i wrote a few months ago so proceed with caution; reader attempted suicide, reader continues to have suicidal thoughts/attempts, reader seeks harm onto themself (both from external sources and self inflicted), reader is depressed!!! be sure to evaluate your mental state before reading this fic :3. this also contains a scene that i felt compelled to write for some reason involving assisted hygiene: idk i felt that needed a little acknowledgment..

ik its my birthday fic and it proably should be happy, but theres a bit of hurt comfort to this that i love and i polished it up to share so that hopefully u like it too.. again heed my warnings^

also final note; formatted on my pc, sprry if its funky

The first thing you feel upon waking up is disappointment. This… you rub your face with your hands. You can’t do anything right, you sigh. Waking up is a clear sign of a failure as to your plans.

Although you frown as you observe your surroundings, this isn’t where you would be if someone had caught you attempting to take your life. You wouldn’t be dumped in the middle of a sunny field. This isn’t a hospital or ward, in fact there’s no sign of any modern buildings from where you sit.

Just where are you…?

You use shaky arms to lift yourself up, and begin to attempt to find a way home. Or for something to just kill you.

What luck, you realize morbidly, you spawned on a plateau, and that’s all you allow yourself to think before breaking into a sprint and running both to and over the edge.

You hit the plains with a crack and you wheeze out a pained groan. Before you can lift yourself up to try again or seek help or check for any witnesses, you feel your body fade away. It’s a weightless feeling as you sink into the earth of Teyvat.

There is not much pain, not as much as you had hoped or expected. In ways this is a pro, for you are a coward in the face of pain no matter deserved or otherwise.

You fade, but not into the hold of death, at least you don’t think this is death, rather you fade from your spot crumpled on the ground into a sitting position firmly in the arms of an Anemo Statue of Seven. The marble orb of Barbatos’ lookalike stops you from falling out of the statue’s arms and you heave a sigh.

How unfortunate. It seems you cannot permanently die here. Though… what if it was a fluke…? With another bone deep sigh you fall to the ground and walk back to the ledge and stare down at the fifty foot drop.

Before you work up the courage to take the plunge a high, excited voice calls out for you. You flinch, opening your eyes to see a youthful bard dressed in Mondstatian green, holding his hands out for you. Venti is sprinting towards you and you take a step back nervously. He seems to recognize you… but how could that be?

His face falls as you back away and his sprint slows when he’s a few yards away from being able to reach out to you. Venti calls your name again. He falters, the smile adorning his face slips.

“Wait…” his voice wavers. “What are you doing, Divine One?”

Why did he call you that…? Is it some Mondstat greeting of sorts? You can’t kill yourself in front of him and retraumatize the poor guy, so you allow him to get closer to you, and you don’t stop him when he sweeps his lythe form down into a kneeling bow.

“Hello.” You greet, unsure of how one is supposed to act when approached by a fictional character.

Venti lifts his gaze from the ground up to your face, looking downright awestruck.

“I, we, have long awaited your descent, Divine One, it is an honor to have you grace the lands of Freedom with your presence first.”

Uh-oh. He seems to have confused you with someone else, because you are certainly no one special and definitely not any sort of divine. How are you gonna break that to him without too much embarrassment on either of your parts?

“Please, come with me to the city, I’m certain the people will be delighted to host the one who shaped the world.” His voice is high with a musical lilt, and it’s hard to decline him.

“I’m sorry,” your voice comes out dry, and you realize you’re terribly dehydrated. “I think there’s been a mistake. I’m not whoever you think I am.”

You take a step back, backing yourself up the hill onto higher ground.

“Whatever do you mean, Divine One? Your presence is unmistakable.”

You shake your head, stepping further away from the Archon. Venti reaches his hand out to grasp at the bottom hem of your pajama pants. “Please! I’ve waited so long for you.” He falls onto his knees to beg.

Fuck, his eyes are so pretty when he pleads. You don’t want to risk angering whatever God he’s mistaking you with, though, “Venti….”

The blue-green sky of his eyes turns to the color of the ocean as tears well up in his waterline. His whole body shivers when you utter his chosen name. “I can keep it a secret from the public. Surely only Archons and those blessed with a Vision will be able to sense you. We can keep it quiet, please, Divine One, I beg of you.”

“I’m not this Divine One you speak of,” you kneel and place a hand on his hat. Venti’s eyes search yours with confusion. As he lifts his head, your hand presses into the curve of his skull, making him lean harder into your touch.

“Th-That’s okay, please just stay in Mondstadt for a night, that’s all I wish.” He doesn’t believe you, that’s clear, but he seems so eager to appease you.

You pause, looking away from the pathetically begging archon. His hands clench on your pant fabric.

“Okay. Just for the night.” You hope no one else from Mondsat is as strange as Venti is…

“I don’t have any way to pay for this,” you smile at Diluc, placing a hand on the side of the glass to push it back across the counter.

“I wouldn’t dream of making you pay, please drink all you wish. Let me know if it isn’t to your taste.”

“Does that apply to their guide as well, Master Diluc?”

“No.”

“A shame,” Venti sighs, taking a deep drink from his glass.

You have to hand it to Venti, he is a good guide. He’s quick to shut down any vision holder you come across with a quick whisper in their ear, and he truly knows Mondstadt in and out.

The bell above the door jingles as it swings open, and you glance behind you in time to see Rosaria come strolling in with a timid Barbara clutching the back of her cathedral robes. She must not visit the Angel’s Share much, seeing as the hydro-user looks around with quick, nervous eyes. When her eyes land on you they widen comically, her small hand darting out to steady herself on Rosaria’s forearm.

—

“Farewell, my Divinity,” “Safe travels, Divine One,” and “May the wind bless your travels, Your Grace,” follow your retreating form as you make the hike to Dragonspine.

Honestly you aren’t certain where you’re heading. If the other nations treat you the same as Mondstadt, that's a no-go. You won’t know unless you go, though. Maybe you should head the same route the Traveler would. That would mean Dragonspine is your next destination.

Who will you meet there? Albedo…? He’s the only one you can think of that stays there.

As you begin the trek you realize; he’s a research-type dude, you hesitate to say scientist, but he does experiments and such. Perhaps, you can make use of yourself by giving your body up to him to work on. Surely an undying body would greatly interest the research of life?

After a surprisingly simple search you find him and present your proposition.

“Absolutely not,” Albedo dismisses you without thought. He doesn’t even bother to spare you a look. “That is blasphemy of the highest order, I’d suggest giving that attitude up sooner rather than later.”

You flinch back at the words, taking a step back into the chill of Dragonspine.

“I can offer you sanctuary here if you seek it, but I will not harm you.”

“That’s…” not at all what you want. “That’s very kind of you to offer, but I must decline.”

His haunting blue eyes follow you down the snowy path to Liyue. Once you are far too away to hear, he states calmly, “safe travels.”

As you walk down the icy paths lining the gravel streets you think… Albedo had rejected you just like that. What’s the next step?

You might as well stop by Liyue Harbor, maybe meet some characters before… before maybe heading to Sumeru?

Ahhah! It hits you then, the harbinger introduced in Sumeru: Il Dottore. If Albedo had reservations, then Dottore would have none.

Even still, Liyue is a harbor. You’re sure to find a way to Snezhnaya from there.

You almost get to the docks without drawing any attention to yourself. Almost.

Your mistake laid in the fact that you passed the Golden House, the weekly Childe Boss fight. In your defense you didn’t actually think he’d be in there. And it’s not like you even went in, only going up the steps and around for a detour.

And it was a quick route until a strangled gasp came from behind you, making you spin around in alarm. There, Tartaglia stood, with pupils nearly the size of his gray-blue eyes, staring, completely enraptured by your visage. Your knees buckle and you make to sprint, but your body is no match for a Fatui Harbinger.

In retrospect you’re not entirely sure what drove you to run, perhaps some fight or flight instinct buried inside of you.

His long hand wraps around your forearm, tugging you to a stop, you face him, and your face must portray your panic clearly because Tartaglia’s twists into sorrowful sympathy.

“My Divinity… it is an honor to meet you in the flesh.”

“Let go.” He does, promptly so.

“I’m sorry, I got ahead of myself. May I ask where you are headed, and if you are in need of company?”

“No. Thank you, Childe.”

His face shifts into a serious look, nodding. “Do you need an escort to Liyue then? Is that where you’re heading?”

“No. I know where I’m going, and I much prefer to go alone.” It’s not entirely false, you know where you’re headed, just not how.

“Well… be safe, okay? I hope to see you again.”

“I will.” The lie comes out and you cringe, because its delivery falls flat and its so obviously untrue.

“Does Mr Zhongli know you’re here? Surely you’re here to see Morax?” He strolls to your other side, offering a hand to lead you to the city. You ignore the hand.

“Goodbye, Tartaglia.”

“I can’t let you leave alone in good conscience…. You don’t seem well. Let me lead you to the harbor at least.”

Since he is as unmoving as stone, you let him take you to the main city, managing to ditch him before more people can know about your presence.

The boats docked at Liyue Harbor are hopeful. “Where is this ship headed?” you ask one of the dock workers. They look up at your voice before glancing at the ship they’re loading up with lumber.

“Snezhnaya.” They say glancing up at the grand vessel. “Why? Where’re you tryna go, friend?”

“Snezhnaya. How much does the fare cost, one way?”

—

“News of your travels have reached Snezhnaya, Divine One.” Dottore starts, fixing his posture from a lean on a surgical table to something more proper. You shake your head, the weariness you’ve accumulated on your journey weighing down on you. You’re finally where you deserve to be.

“I’m not the Divine One you speak of, Dottore.”

“Hm? Do you think so little of my intelligence? Your presence is unmistakable.”

“No, it’s not that. But I’m not. I’m just a regular person. And I came to you for a reason.”

“Oh? The Creator themself, seeking me out? It’s an honor,” the doctor bows to you, smirking at you from beneath his beaklike mask.

“I need you to hurt me.”

“What?” He pulls himself up with a startled question. “I’m afraid I misheard you, Divine One.”

“I can’t die, Dottore. I’m giving myself to you, you…” you heave a sigh as you explain your reasoning. “You could make use of me. I’m not whoever you think I am, please just take me. I don’t care what you do to me.”

“You’re… giving yourself to me?”

“Yes.”

“Do you know what happens to my… patients?”

“Yes, that's why I’m here. I can’t die, I imagine I would make a good test subject.”

“Is this a test?” Dottore seems to be speaking to himself more than anything. He pushes away from the table and paces to the back room of the lab, muttering madly to himself as he does so. The door swings open with a loud screeching and you catch sight of multiple mops of blue hair and masks.

His Segments.

You can hear a conversation ongoing between all of the parts of Zandik, it seems he doesn’t want to be rash and take you in too hastily. You can understand his (their?) hesitancy; if a god offered themselves up to you, you would surely think it was a trap. But you aren’t a god, so it should be a no brainer for him. How often does he get consenting test subjects?

It seems this absurd idea of you being a higher power has infiltrated Snezhnaya as well, which is… not good. Everyone is saying you’re more than what you are, you can’t be a god, you barely consider yourself a human.

An older, completely unmasked Segment sticks his head out of the door, frowning once he makes eye contact with you. There’s gray leaking from his roots into the teal of Dottore’s hair, and visible aging lines on his face; crows feet and tension on his cheekbones. Glowing red eyes narrow upon meeting your own, mouth pulling into a tight line.

A younger segment, smaller in size and stature, with a nearly full face mask, only showing part of his mouth. You think that is the one that the Fandom surrounding him dubbed Webttore. You usually see pictures of him with a wide, jagged-tooth smile, but, like his older part, he looks solemn.

You wonder just how many Segments Il Dottore has, because you can still hear an entire conversation going on without the two.

The conversation seems to be dying down, not ending without a few red eyes peeking out from behind the door at you. It’s surreal seeing so many versions of the same person at once; the youthful ones, eyes wide, and the older ones with wrinkles built with time and age, all at the same moment in time.

Eventually though, they do seem to come to a verdict: the Omega segment, the one you met upon walking into his lab, exits, closing the door behind him with a click that resonates through the room.

His answer is a simple word. “No.”

Your heart drops and stomach sinks at the rejection, and based on il Dottore’s reaction it must show. “Why?” your voice is small and sounds foreign to your own ears.

“I cannot forsake the true god in such a way, whether you acknowledge it or not, you have that power.”

All the turmoil and hardships it took to get here come crashing down, the light at the end of the tunnel is rejecting you. You hadn’t known this was something that could happen, your… your savior, the one you were looking for is telling you no. He won’t lay a finger on you, and it’s tearing you apart. This was the only thing that kept you from burying yourself in the deep forest of Sumeru and letting yourself rot.

“Oh.” It’s shaky and you nod, trying to take it maturely. “I see.” Your voice is warbling like you're on the verge of tears. Blinking rapidly to dispel the water from your eyes, you lower your head and make to scamper out of the lab.

Dottore lets out a heavy sigh, and his leather gloves wrap around your wrist.

“Wait.” You nervously glance up at his mask.

“You said you would ‘give yourself to me,’ no?”

Your heart pounds heavily in your chest, “yes.” Has he suddenly changed his mind? You shouldn't get your hopes up.

“I will take you. I doubt you will appreciate my intentions, but if I were to own you, you wouldn’t be able to complain. After all, you will have done it to yourself.”

You don’t know what those words mean, but the stinging rejection welling up in your eyes turns to relief. “Thank you,” he doesn’t stop you from dashing to his side and wrapping your arms around his waist. You press your face into his abdomen, letting his clothes soak up your tears. A hesitant hand rubs over your spine, an effort to soothe you.

You pull yourself together, sucking in a deep breath of the sterile lab air.

“Alright,” Dottore says after he deems you put together enough. “Come.” His hand covers your wrist, gently tugging you behind him. You aren’t sure where he is leading you, as he takes you out of the lab. The halls are tall and gorgeously crafted, intermittent with intricate moldings on the wall.

It’s a small room you find yourself in, but it is infinitely better than the wilderness. The size is comparable to an average hotel room. Dottore instructs you to sit and stay on the bed, which you do obediently. Nerves swirl inside of you, as to where he has gone and what he will bring back with - when he will return, if at all.

Il Dottore knows. While he is not well versed on human, much less godly, psychology, he can tell you’re depressed when you first stumbled your way into his workstation. Besides, he’d be hard pressed to deny the rumors from various agents that had been located in places you’d traveled through.

With a small caddy in his hands Dottore kneels next to the nightstand and places a hand on your shoulder to force you to lay down. “Arm.” Is what he prompts for you to let him maneuver your arm to lay open and flat over the edge of the bed.

The scent of alcohol alerts you to the sanitary wipe before you feel the chill of it. You keep your eyes trained on the ceiling as you feel the slight pinch of a needle and a clicking as an IV is deposited into your arm. Out of the corner of your eye you see Dottore set up a drip, but you don’t bother to ask what it is, the excitement of the day catching up with you.

Il Dottore eventually leaves the room in silence after pushing an odd vial of liquid into the drip, not bothering to look behind him as he closes the door and leaves with confident strides.

Although it’s entirely possible it’s simply the Placebo Effect, as the drip spreads throughout your veins you can feel your eyes getting heavier and heavier. Before long you can no longer keep them open and slip into a dreamless sleep.

You wake up to a Mirror Maiden tidying up the nightstand next to you. You observe her work, wondering how she can manage to navigate with the blind pulled over her eyes. She startles when she catches your eyes on her, though returns back to work, quietly disposing of the used needles from earlier. You wonder what The Doctor has injected you with; wonder if he added more of whatever it is while you were unconscious.

There’s a brisk, impatient knock on the door and the Maiden straightens up, taking hold of everything to discard and striding over to change positions with Tartaglia behind the door.

You stay flat on your back, looking at the ginger in mild surprise. Last you saw him he was in Liyue and set to stay for quite a while. Had he heard you gave yourself away to Il Dottore? Is he here to plead for you to change your mind?

But to your bemusement he stays quiet, walking over to and kneeling next to your bed. Instead of speaking he merely rests his head on the nightstand, dull blue eyes gazing at you sadly, yet reverently.

You’re unsure of how long you look up at the ceiling, doing your best to ignore Tartaglia’s eyes on you. His gaze is unwavering, and eventually, you turn your head to the side, meeting his eyes.

“I’m sorry for my behavior in Liyue. I was too excited to see you, and my manners deserted me.”

“It’s okay.” You croak, throat dry from sleep. “I was dismissive as well.”

Dottore doesn’t bother to knock when he comes in.

“I see you’re awake and seem to have found a stray harbinger.”

Tartaglia doesn’t react to his entrance, merely moving to the far end of the bed, laying his head on the covers near your feet. You realize someone has drapped a plain, solid color duvet over your body when you slept.

“Are you feeling anything out of the ordinary?” Dottore asks, checking the emptied IV bag. He unclips it and pulls a fresh one from his lab coat pocket.

You take the moment to assess (how do you spell it) your body. In all honesty you’re feeling much better, the hydration from the drip really made a difference.

“I feel hydrated.”

Dottore hums, he sounds disinterested. “How’s your appetite? Can you stomach anything for me?” He clips a new bag onto the pole, screwing it into your IV’s tube. “Stand if you can.”

Dottore’s eyes watch you intensely behind his mask, observing how you tremble when you put a leg onto the floor. “Childe, help them and follow me.”

Tartaglia scrambles to steady your arm as you fully get out of the bed, wrapping the one without the needle in it around his shoulder to support you. You stiffen, but aren’t in any position to be able to get around without him, not with the emptiness of your stomach and the way black fades into your vision when you stand. “Get them to the restroom, take care of their needs. I will return with what they will eat.”

“Come on, I got you,” Tartaglia assures as he leads you to the ensuite restroom. It’s nothing too fancy; simply a sink, shower, and toilet.

You eye the toilet, realizing how long it’s been since you’ve relieved yourself. A shower would also be nice…

“Allow me to assist you, Divine One,” Tartaglia remains stoic and respectful as he shimmies your pants and underwear down your legs, letting you support yourself on his broad shoulders as you step out of the pant holes. After making sure you get to the toilet safely he turns around and starts the shower faucet.

The sound of the water helps you get over your pee shyness and by the time Tartaglia finishes soaking and preparing a cloth for you, you’ve finished and are ready to bathe.

With weak arms you gather the hem of your shirt in your hands and remove the remainder of your clothes.

Tartaglia helps you get clean with warm, respectful touches, passing you the cloth for you to clean more intimate areas, before helping you out of the shower and wrapping a large, soft towel around your body. It’s huge, covering the top of your bust to well past mid-calf, looping around your body almost twice. He tucks the towel tightly with practiced precision.

“Il Dottore will be back soon, I’ll help you get dressed before he returns. Do you have any material preferences?”

—

You sit up in bed, feeling marginally better than the day before. The day after that, and the day after that all proceed in a similar fashion; each time you feel just a little bit better. More clear headed, a better appetite, less like a corpse walking.

Only after Dottore deems you well enough to remove the IV do you get your suspicions that it was more than just the proper nutrition making you feel better. He still stops by your room twice a day for some shots; he encouraged you to choose where he would deposit them (when you said into your brain or through your chest, it did not amuse him). It feels suspiciously like the antidepressants you’ve been on before.

It only further confuses you, though. Does he want you in a proper state of mind for something? He has no reason other than unfounded faith to help you, you don’t like it. It’s … uncomfortable receiving this type of care, knowing it’s only because they think you're better than who you really are.

The food they feed you, the clothes they dress you in, it's all much more than you deserve.

“What are you doing to me?”

“Pardon?” Dottore sets the syringe down with a metallic click. Through his mask you can feel his gaze on you.

“You’re… you’re trying to— to…” the words fail you.

“Mitigate your depressive symptoms? Yes, I am. What of it?” Il Dottore picks the syringe back up, pushing the knob back before stabbing it into the vial in his hand. He pulls the liquid up with ease before removing the needle and pushing to remove the excess air in the syringe.

“Why?”

“Hm? Why would I not?” He flicks the syringe and some liquid flies from the point of the needle.

“If I were anyone else you wouldn’t be doing this.”

“Indeed.”

“Haven’t you realized by now that I’m not who you think I am? That I’m just a normal human in a horrible situation of being unable to die?”

“That is not so. Your skin cultures and biopsy results do not share that conclusion. Even if you continue to deny your god-hood, it changes nothing. I know for certain who you are, and you will remain in my care until you utilize your divine right to revoke such.”

Biopsy? When on Earth — Teyvat? — did that happen? But there’s more important things to discuss with him for now, not that you care how or when it happened. You’re more surprised you never noticed, that’s all.

“You’re wrong!” You wail, tears finally coming for the first time in a while. You had thrown your head back to speak, but now you collapse in on yourself with your head between your arms and legs. It’s humid, but saves you from having to look at the doctor and his unreadable bird mask.

“Oh my,” you hear Dottore murmur, then he sets his medical supplies to the side and places a hand on your shoulder. He remains there while you sob, when finally the lack of speech seems to reach the boiling point, he heaves a sigh. “If it is of any consolation, if it were to come to my attention that you are not in any way godly or divine, I would treat you the same. I’ve put far too much care into you to just toss you aside..”

That consoles you, if only a little, damn the drugs making you want to continue life to see the future. But you broke the dam of tears, and it’ll take a while for them to stop; you need to cry out everything that led you here….

Your… attempt that put you in Teyvat, the one you tried right after arrival, the false death, all the eyes and praise that aren’t meant for you. It’s dysphoric.

The lurches of your body with your cries, stitches your sides and you sniffle harder into the crevice your body makes, the moisture of the confined body space blending in with your tears.

“There now,” Dottore says, quieter as you get so as well. “Perhaps some more rest will do you good. I’ll be at the ready whenever you wake.”

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