Aen

Your local hoe for 2D boys. | 20

[cherrieshalo]

Hii... scray but ur text fics are so silly and awesome, could I get a newbie and energetic fem pro hero reader x aizawa pre-relationship ans during relationship?

I love him sm hes so The Guy

HE'S SOOO VERY THE GUY YES YES YES

erase me ⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚

s.aizawa x fem!proheroreader | lowkey jealous eraserhead... | pathetic flirting attempts! from both sides :3 | like one suggestive joke | progression is kind of strange but you can def notice it lol!

[dollylolwow]

Drunk Aizawa

𓇬⋆ ﾟ꩜‧˚𑁍ܓ⋆·˚ ༘ *

Shota Aizawa and you had been living together for a year.

Despite sharing the same roof, the two of you barely spoke. You had developed feelings for him somewhere along the way, but you never allowed yourself to hope. Aizawa was distant, unreadable, and always focused on work. There was no reason to believe he felt the same.

So you tried to move on.

Every night, he returned home late from U.A. High. No matter what, you always made enough food for him. Sometimes you stayed awake waiting for him. Sometimes you didn't.

Whenever he caught you waiting, he'd simply say, "Don't stay up for me."

The words always came out coldly, paired with the same tired expression.

Still, he always ate the food you prepared.

That was it.

No smiles. No gratitude. No signs of affection.

Eventually, you convinced yourself to stop hoping into it.

Tonight, however, was different.

The clock on the wall read 11:00 PM.

No text.

No call.

No sign of him.

A knot of worry tightened in your chest.

You sighed and pushed yourself off the couch.

Why were you even concerned?

It's not like the two of you were together.

It's not like he'd care.

You turned toward your bedroom just as the front door creaked open.

"Aizawa?"

You looked over.

There he was.

Standing in the doorway.

Drunk.

Your eyes widened.

"Get inside. It's dangerous to just stand there."

You quickly walked toward him.

Before you could reach him, the door slammed shut behind him.

The sharp sound made you jump.

Aizawa started walking forward.

Slowly.

The sound of his footsteps echo through the living room.

Your heartbeat stumbled.

"A-Aizawa...?"

Your voice came out quieter than intended.

He didn't answer.

Didn't even look at you.

Then suddenly, he was standing right in front of you.

You froze.

His hands reaching onto your waist, pulling you closer.

"W-What are you doing?! Let go!"

Heat rushed to your face as you tried to push him away, but he didn't move an inch.

Instead, he lowered his head onto your shoulder.

For a moment, neither of you spoke.

You heard him mutter something under his breath.

"What?"

You frowned.

"What did you say?"

His grip tightened slightly.

"[Name]..."

His voice was rough and unusually quiet.

"You're everything I could ever ask for."

Your entire body went rigid.

"You're talking nonsense."

You swallowed hard and tried pushing him away again.

"You're drunk. You need to go to bed."

He didn't budge.

For the first time that night, he finally lifted his head and looked at you.

Really looked at you.

"Can I kiss you?... "

࿔‧ ֶָ֢˚˖𐦍˖˚ֶָ֢ ‧࿔𓍯𓂃𓏧♡˚｡⋆୨୧˚ʚଓ•*¨*•.¸¸☆*ᨶ႒ᩚ

@dollylolwow : Leaving you guy with a bit of unsolved story🫣🤫

[vxnillabxn]

Hy! Congrats on your followers! 🥳 🥳 🥳

Very deserved 🫶🏻

May I request for Sylus with a gn!reader (mc or not) who's very clingy and cuddly, very physically affectionate? I always read about how he would only like a partner who is super independent, but I feel like with how much he wants to take care of Mc he wouldn't mind?

Thank you for sharing with us 🖤 🖤 🖤

𐙚˙⋆.˚ sylus x cuddly gn!reader ꒰੭

𐙚˙⋆.˚ so much fluff! ꒰੭

𐙚˙⋆.˚ sfw! ꒰੭

𐙚˙⋆.˚ do not translate/copy/repost! ꒰੭

﹙♡﹚awww, thank you so, so much! and also, to all my fellow cuddly and affectionate babies, you are seen! i mean, sylus would love a badass partner, BUT you can't tell me he wouldn't love someone who'll kiss him, hug him, nuzzle him and stay by his side all day ꒰˵ˊᯅˋ˵꒱ he would def adore his needy kitten ♡

he can't wait to come home.

not only because he gets to relax, but because he is waiting for your voice to call out for him as you smile, ready to hug him and stay by his side.

when he parks his bike and gets ready to take off his shoes, you are already by the door, unable to contain your excitement as he gets closer.

of course, he's smirking.

and you're almost vibrating, so happy to see him, and so eager to hug and kiss him, too.

he doesn't tease you nor make you wait.

never.

why would he, when he's just as impatient to hold you and have your comforting scent close once again?

as soon as he outstretches his arms, you run to him and hug him, smiling with so much love and excitement that he can't help but smile and pepper your face with soft kisses.

“missed me, kitten?”

“lots!”

the fact that you're always so honest with what you want, and so eager to fulfill your needs without doubt, is what makes him even more attracted to you.

you feel safe enough around him to always run to his arms, never once doubting that he'll hold you.

never once doubting that he'll love you just as much.

that is priceless.

and he also respects it.

when you're particularly needy, and can't help but just… kiss him, over and over, saying how handsome he is, how strong and smart, how pretty his eyes are, his nose, his lips, all between kisses…

he melts.

yes, he blushes a bit.

and his eyes turn hazy, both with so much love and a bit of neediness on his end, too.

will he admit it out loud?

no.

does he need to?

not really.

it is obvious by the way his eyes soften and the way he looks at you, as if silently begging for you to continue.

those days when you two decide to stay in, and he has you clinging to him like a cute leech, he feels the calmest.

you're there, close to him, right where he can protect you and ensure you're safe and happy.

and when you beg him to spoon you, to cuddle, to hold you close, he'll always drop everything for you.

what could be more crucial than spoiling his affectionate kitten?

absolutely nothing.

another gesture of yours that he loves, though, is when he asks if you need anything.

he obviously means something material, like a new shirt, maybe shoes, or even a snack if you're feeling like it.

“do you need anything, my darling?”

and almost always, your answer is sweet and simple.

“you!”

his heart combusts.

and he pulls you to his lap every single time, making sure to kiss every inch of skin he can reach, until you're more than just satisfied.

the only con, though, is that sometimes… it can get overly sweet for those around you, especially in public.

seeing such a feared man absolutely melting when his partner kisses him non-stop, hugs him and squishes their cheek against his strong chest?

yeah, uh, get a room.

but in the privacy of your shared bedroom?

there's more than enough space to be filled with the echoes of your loving kisses, the endless praises on your end to him, the sweet words and caresses you give him, all while he looks at you with the eyes of a man madly in love, ready to protect this honest and precious love with all of his heart.

the whispered “i love you's,” the shared secrets between soft giggles, all of those small yet meaningful things that you do, make him fall deeper, and deeper.

and he'll return every single kiss, praise and caress all night if he has to.

until you are as much of a mess as he is, if not more.

because your love and affection never felt like too much; he always craves more.

and you seemingly have an unlimited amount of love just for him…

it is simply meant to be, isn't it?~

[vxnillabxn]

AGH IVE BEEN WAITING TO SUBMIT THIS REQUEST FOR AGESSS >o<

ok so I wanted to see what the li reactions would be to non!mc being all loud and giggly over chat, always texting first and sending voice messages and all but when they meet for the first time irl, she’s the shyest person ever? Like a complete 180 😭 it’s literally me irl and I feel like such a catfisher but personality wise smhhhh but I feel like they’d find it cute or smth 🥹🤞🏾

𐙚˙⋆.˚ mainfive! x gn!reader ꒰੭

𐙚˙⋆.˚ fluffy fluff! ꒰੭

𐙚˙⋆.˚ sfw! ꒰੭

𐙚˙⋆.˚ do not translate/copy/repost! ꒰੭

﹙♡﹚i can't blame reader, i would probably faint if i had any of them in front of me. and also, i find it so cute when people are like this, as an extrovert, i wanna adopt all the shy babies out there ♡ ꒰ˆ◞⸝⸝◟ˆ ꒱੭ﾞ

𐙚˙⋆.˚ caleb! ꒰੭

“omg yes, i can't wait to kiss u all over~”

“i'm home alone, wish u were here :(”

“the day we finally get to see each other irl, i swear i'll be locking u up forever, leb ♡♡♡”

those were the kind of texts caleb would wake up to, and he loved them.

he loved when you spammed emojis, when you sent little hearts, or when you took pictures while doing the most random things.

he had been patiently waiting for the day you two could finally meet, so that he could get those kisses and messy make-outs you've been promising through texts.

after some months, he bought a ticket to come see you, since you told him you were ready.

before he boarded the plane, you were on a call with him, laughing, giggling, saying just how excited you were and how you couldn't wait to see him.

however, when he arrived at the airport and looked for you, he didn't find you anywhere.

he thought maybe you hadn't arrived yet, because he knew you wouldn't just… ditch him or something.

plus, he was sure you weren't a catfish, given you'd facetimed before.

when he started looking around, he received a text.

“i can see you...”

naturally, his eyes travelled everywhere, and just when he thought you were far away, he found someone hidden behind a wall.

your eyes, your body, your hair…

it was you.

he grinned brighter than the sun itself, dragging his suitcase all the way to you, his eyes warm.

you couldn't do this.

you were shaking like a leaf, hands clutching the wall, eyes looking everywhere but at him.

he stopped in front of you, leaning in just enough to look at your face.

“woah… you're even more gorgeous in person, baby,” he whispered, his hand going up to cup your cheek.

you swallowed loudly, fighting to look up and meet his gaze.

when you did, though, the entire world seemed to stop.

caleb stood there, grinning like an excited puppy, with shiny eyes and a huge smile only a man crazy in love could have.

he waited patiently for your reaction; perhaps you were still in shock and would kiss him in a minute!

…but then two minutes went by, and you were just there, staring at him, your body hot, your hands trembling.

he tilted his head.

“baby?”

you opened your mouth, closed it, then opened it again.

“…hi.”

it was barely a whisper.

his brows furrowed, confused.

“…you okay?” he asked softly.

you nodded quickly, eyes darting away.

he was… confused.

oh no, was he not what you expected?

did he smell?

he checked his breath and his armpits discreetly before focusing on you again.

you looked at him with those pretty eyes he had as his lockscreen, and his heart melted all over again.

you weren't really saying much, so it took him some seconds to realize you were actually just nervous.

his smile softened, and he gently crouched down, opening his suitcase right there in the middle of the airport to ease the tension.

“i, uh, i brought you some gifts… i remember you told me you wanted to try these,” he gently said, taking out some snacks you'd seen him eating before yet didn't have in your town.

you also spotted plushies, jewelry, and other things he saw you liking on social media, all of which he bought for this special occasion.

“...and i also brought some of my hoodies. you once said you wanted to wear th—”

a soft, painfully shy smooch echoed, and his ears turned red.

you had kissed his cheek, arms wrapped around his neck.

“angel…” he whispered, to which you quickly turned around, your face burning.

“we… will miss the train back home. let's go,” you urged awkwardly, and he obeyed without question, quickly putting everything back in place.

home.

he'd finally see your home.

you took his hand without meeting his gaze, internally screaming, kicking, doing laps and cartwheels, making out with him with messy tongue kisses, and getting the duct tape and ropes ready.

externally, though?

you were being adorably shy, tugging at his hand and facing away.

luckily for you, caleb was head over heels.

that little cheek kiss sent his heart wild, and he couldn't stop staring at you with lovesick eyes.

maybe you'd get crazy once you were back in the comfort of your house, without all the people watching.

but even if you didn't and remained just as painfully shy, he would still be the happiest man ever, all because he could finally hold you and keep all the promises he made in return.

because, in his case, he wasn't shy at all, and he wouldn't go easy on you now that he had you right in front of him.~

𐙚˙⋆.˚ rafayel! ꒰੭

late-night calls that lasted more than seven hours, lots of pictures and silly selfies between you two, voice notes instead of texts…

you were the loudest couple ever, and you guys weren't even together in the same room.

he counted the days until he could see you, because he knew it would be a movie-worthy encounter, with loud smooches, tears, long hugs, and sweet nothings delivered in whispers.

he thought you'd cling to him like a monkey, given how much energy you had and how you'd facetime him while literally jumping or running around, unable to stay still.

he wanted to meet his little sunshine in person and get a taste of that frenetic love.~

you, on the other hand, couldn't stop texting him on the day he was supposed to come over by train.

you called, you sent voice messages, you sent lots of pictures of different places you wanted to take him to, you even sent the outfit you were wearing just to hear his praise and sweet words.

he arrived early, with two suitcases and an aura that had people wondering whether he was a celebrity or a model.

rafayel sat down on a small bench, texting you and patiently waiting while looking at his surroundings.

meanwhile, you were hidden behind a large column, stalking him like a creep, trying to calm down your racing heart and trembling legs.

he looked amazing in real life.

since you weren't answering, he decided to call you, and your ringtone happened to be so, so loud that your hiding place wasn't a secret anymore.

“cutie?” he called out, making you freeze in place.

he stood up, his large suitcases rolling behind him as he stepped closer and closer, until his frame cast a shadow over your hidden figure.

he immediately recognized you and the outfit you were wearing, his smile widening.

“look at you…” he mumbled, his hands reaching out to gently touch your hair, his fresh scent filling your senses.

you were trembling like a chihuahua, looking down at your feet with wide eyes.

what were you supposed to do?

suddenly, his arms were around you in a tight hug, his nose nuzzling your head, his lips finding your forehead.

“my pretty pearl, you're finally in my arms,” he whispered, expecting you to hug him back and make a fuss, because… hello? he was literally there.

but you didn't move, your body rooted to the floor.

“don't tell me i'm dreaming,” he smiled, pulling back.

but just then, he noticed your still frame, your unmoving face… and his expression dropped. he frowned gently, hands on your shoulders.

“cutie…? i'm sorry, aren't you… aren't you happy to see me?”

how could you tell him you wanted to suck the soul out of his body through a long kiss, but your dumb brain wouldn't allow you to?

“sorry, perhaps i… perhaps i was too forward,” he stepped back, awkwardly fixing his coat.

his brows were slightly furrowed; this wasn't the reaction he'd been hoping for.

your silence was making him nervous.

“should we… go to your place? or…” his voice was small, unsure, and he didn't sound like the confident man you'd spent hours on calls with.

but you couldn't take it anymore, so with all the strength you had inside you, you pulled him back towards you, crushing him in your arms.

your entire form was trembling; your lips never once parted to speak, yet there you were, hugging your boyfriend with all the strength you had.

his breath hitched.

“oh… oh, my dear,” his arms wrapped around you, his nose buried in your hair. “there you are, you were scaring me.”

you met his gaze, and when he touched your cheek, he felt the burning skin against his fingertips.

so you were just… shy.

“aren't you just precious, hm?” he kissed the tip of your nose, staring into your eyes lovingly. it was the face he had been dreaming of for months; the very same face he vowed to paint once he saw it in real life.

“raffy, i'm sorry,” you whispered, your voice low and muffled.

he smiled and pressed his forehead against yours.

“no biggie, cutie. as long as you didn't want to ditch me or something as soon as you saw me…”

you shook your head profusely, furrowing your brows.

“good, good,” he grabbed his suitcases again, cocking his head to the side. “you know, i was planning on kissing you, but i guess i'll have to do that when you're ready.”

your eyes went wide, darting elsewhere.

“rafayel…”

“you better be prepared, my dear. i don't think i'll be able to control myself while i'm this close to you. now, shall we go home, cutie?”

and that look in his gorgeous pink-cerulean eyes showed that his warning was very, very serious.~

𐙚˙⋆.˚ sylus! ꒰੭

you told sylus to meet you at a cafe when he arrived in your town.

he said he would gladly pick you up, but you didn't want him to; you wanted the first encounter to be special and memorable.

so, he, being the good, obedient giant he was, waited patiently, already thinking of all the things he would order for you.

he could almost hear your bubbly voice and see your kissy face getting closer to his; the thought alone made him smile faintly.

after twenty minutes, you arrived.

his crimson eyes shot up the moment the little bell chimed, and you stayed there, looking at him like a deer caught in headlights.

he was…

oh god, he was huge, handsome, and even better than in the thousands of pictures you'd seen of him.

sylus' eyes softened almost immediately. he stood up and approached with slow steps, his gaze traveling up and down your figure with barely concealed amazement.

“hello there, sweetheart,” he quietly said, leaning down slightly to look into your eyes.

you were gorgeous, just as he knew you'd be.

however, you were being… way too quiet.

he expected a squeal, a scream, or for you to run into his arms.

but you were just there, staring at him like a little hamster looking at a lion.

although it was unexpected, he understood this could be very overwhelming, so he stood back, letting you explore at your own pace and react whenever you wanted to.

…which you didn't.

you were quiet as a mouse.

one would think you owed him money and he was intimidating you into complying.

now, while sylus was a very chill man, he was starting to feel worried.

what if you were genuinely scared of him, and he wasn't what you had expected?

because, from what he knew, you weren't one to get so nervous. in fact, you were the one carrying the conversations and spamming him day and night with videos and funny stuff.

he retreated quietly, though he remained patient, calm, observant.

you shifted your weight before studying him up and down.

god, you wanted him so badly.

“take your time, darling,” he said, his low voice making your heart thump.

inevitably, as another customer walked in, you were forced to move away from the door and step towards sylus, your breath hitching.

he smelled amazing; so mature, so… good.

you wanted to bury your face in his strong chest and inhale until your lungs gave out.

sylus noticed your quickened breathing and slightly widened eyes, and he chuckled softly.

“i'm not going to bite,” he assured you before holding a hand out, palm up.

would it be too weird to think he was able to smell your nerves?

because you were sure he could.

despite your hesitation, you took his hand after some seconds, his touch immediately warm. he gently pulled you closer, his lips meeting your knuckles tenderly.

“you have no idea how delightful it is to finally be in front of you, sweetie.”

your knees buckled right there, and you just couldn't help yourself anymore.

you shakily leaned in and hugged him, hiding your face against his chest.

his arms immediately surrounded you, the tension in his shoulders disappearing.

you unconsciously sniffed his tight turtleneck sweater, sighing softly at the scent.

“not so shy now, are we?” he mumbled, lifting your chin so that you would look into his eyes.

your cheeks burned up, even more so when he gently caressed the apple of your cheek.

you were so different from how you were over text, and you were aware of it.

you thought he would judge you, or even worse, think you were lying or putting on a personality that didn't belong to you.

after all, you did say through voice messages that you'd devour his handsome face day and night.

and your demeanor right now did not match those desires at all.

however, his eyes showed nothing but understanding and a hint of amusement.

cocky.

"shall we sit down?” he asked, already pulling the chair for you. naturally, you sat down, albeit still nervous.

while he reviewed the menu all over again, you called him out.

“sylus?”

his name on your lips made his heart flutter.

“yes, sweetheart?”

“i'm sorry if… this wasn't the reunion you had in mind,” you whispered, looking down at the table and then back at him.

he reached for your hand, his warm fingers caressing your palm.

“don't be. you're everything i imagined, and more. you're absolutely charming, darling,” he assured you, his tone genuine. “and i know you'll warm up to me soon.”

the way he looked at you, like a man determined to make you fulfill all of those promises you made via text…

it sent a shiver down your spine.

you'd made a lot of them, so you had to prepare yourself to give this man what was rightfully his, at your own pace, of course.~

𐙚˙⋆.˚ xavier! ꒰੭

xavier knew everything about you, since you overshared eeeeeverything.

you would facetime him while being in the bathroom, or even describe how your tummy rumbled after a heavy meal.

you had no shame, and somehow, xavi was charmed by that.

he wasn't a good texter, because he was far too lazy to reply sometimes, but during calls, he'd listen to you and enjoy how interesting your days were.

you were the bright, shining sun to his serene moon.

after some months of talking, once you felt comfortable enough for him to come see you, he bought his plane ticket and went after you.

the flight was long, and he was a bit tired, even after napping for hours straight. he also came out of the plane with messy hair, a long sweater, hazy eyes, and a baby blue bag over his shoulder.

as he looked for you, though, his demeanor changed.

his heart beat faster, his eyes glimmered with excitement, his fingers faintly clutching the bag straps.

after ten minutes or so, he took his phone out and called you, trying to see if you were perhaps at a different entrance.

however, he soon turned around when a finger touched his shoulder, and there it was.

your pretty face.

he looked at you for a few seconds, taking in every feature. without a second thought, he hugged you tight, as if wanting to become one with you right there.

you could only hug him back, hiding against his chest, inhaling the soft scent of his detergent.

when he pulled back, his hands gently took yours, azure eyes studying you further.

you were truly breathtaking.

perhaps he was too tired or too excited to notice, but you weren't as… explosive as he expected.

you were silently studying him too, your own heart rate becoming faster than ever before.

it felt as if both of you were inside a tiny, intimate bubble, neither of you wanting to speak so as not to pop it.

but eventually, someone had to address the situation, and xavier was the first one to talk.

“i'm here,” he stated, his voice softer and clearer now that he was in front of you.

you shyly smiled, nodding quietly.

he was.

“you're beautiful,” he whispered, his fingers finding yours.

your cheeks burned up, and you looked down at your feet, shifting nervously.

he leaned even closer, looking for your face with curiosity, blinking softly.

“you're shy,” he noted simply, although there was a hint of confusion in his voice. “is it because of me?”

oh god, he was as blunt as he was on the phone.

you shook your head lightly; it wasn't because of him. it was always like this with anyone, but you weren't sure how to express that, so you stayed silent.

xavier noticed your nervousness and smiled faintly, squeezing your hand.

“okay,” he whispered, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “that's fine by me.”

you looked up at him, blinking in surprise at the gesture.

it had only been a couple of minutes, yet he was already accepting it.

he stepped back and adjusted his bag, looking around with curiosity.

you took your chance to really take him in; his height, his face, his perfect side profile, his light eyelashes, the delicate curves of his cheeks, his hands, his shoulders…

you were so immersed that you didn't notice his bright eyes back on you, staring with the same quiet intensity.

you jumped slightly, gasping.

he only tilted his head, almost too innocently, before smiling.

“do you like what you see?” his tone was still gentle and easy on the ears, but you could sense something; something wolfish behind that gentle bunny façade.

he was enjoying your attention.

“...yes,” you finally managed, averting your gaze.

he patted your head with his cold palm.

“that's good,” he nodded once. “i like what i'm seeing as well.”

you looked back up, blinking.

…his cheeks were faintly pink; he was embarrassed too.

the realization made your heart flutter, and you smiled faintly, suddenly feeling less exposed.

you were awfully sweet; nothing like the little menace who promised to kiss him breathless and handcuff themselves to him, something he still had in mind as a very interesting idea.

the bubble burst when more people came out of the gate, also arriving from their flights.

right; you two had to go to your house.

he offered his hand, which you gently took after a few seconds.

he didn't seem to mind your demeanor. in fact, he almost mirrored it.

however, that wolfish look returned to his face as he contemplated something.

he could help you go through every one of the bold claims you had made… after all, who better than him, your lovely and understanding boyfriend, to help you go as wild as you were in messages once you were behind closed doors?~

𐙚˙⋆.˚ zayne! ꒰੭

how did he even get himself involved in a long-distance relationship?

he didn't know.

but he was so happy to receive silly little morning texts, to relax after a long day by listening to your rambling, and to always have cute stickers cheering him up before going to work.

although he couldn't always keep up with your bubbly, cheerful energy, he always tried to make some time to reply and let you know he loved you dearly.

after months and months of hard work, he finally asked for some weeks off, carefully organizing everything so that the hospital wouldn't miss him too much.

of course, he would spend those weeks next to you, so he informed you he was going to see you for the first time ever, giving you time to prepare or decline if you weren't ready.

but, as expected, you were thrilled, screaming over facetime, jumping, bouncing, and giggling out of sheer happiness.

the journey was a little bit long, but after hours on a plane, and then some more inside a train, he arrived.

naturally, zayne braced himself for impact. he was certain you would jump all over him, and maybe even sneakily attack him from behind, so his senses were sharper than ever.

the minutes went by slowly, and slowly…

he checked his wristwatch, then looked around with that unbreakable posture.

but he was growing restless.

after fifteen minutes, he started to worry.

he knew deep down you wouldn't be late and that you wouldn't ghost him, so he walked around, searching for you.

eventually, he found you, clutching your phone to your chest, sitting behind some benches.

your body language made it clear you were awfully nervous, nothing like the bundle of joy he thought would greet him.

but that didn't matter; he didn't care about expectations. he only came to see you, to hold you, and to finally be able to kiss you like he had wished to for months.

he put his bag down, kneeling next to you.

“my flower,” he gently called out, making you jump and look up almost immediately.

you gasped, eyes wide.

he was right in front of you, so handsome, so real, so… so yours.

and your stubborn body refused to move, to react, or to even mutter a simple “hi” at the very least.

he was smart, obviously. he knew right away you were nervous and anxious about this meeting, and while his heart hammered against his chest, he needed to comfort you.

“may… may i hug you?” he whispered, his slender fingers hovering over your waist.

you managed a soft nod, not expecting him to be so forward, nor so accepting of this behavior of yours.

he immediately pulled you into his arms, pressing you so tightly against him that you could feel his heartbeat.

he kissed your temple, inhaling your scent, trembling ever so slightly.

you melted against his embrace, shaking just as much as he was. your arms flew to his neck, all while he pulled you closer.

impossibly closer.

you both spent minutes like that, simply enjoying each other's warmth, not having to utter a word to show how special this moment was.

he was the first to pull back, and his palms, surprisingly warm, brushed some strands of hair away from your face.

he took his glasses off, looking as if he was about to cry. his hazel eyes were clouded with adoration, and his jaw was slightly clenched.

he needed this; to be so close to you.

you, on the other hand, felt both mortified and worried.

he told you multiple times he couldn't wait to witness your energy bursts in person, and that he would wear more layers to shield himself in case you tackled him to the ground.

instead, he would now find out how different you were in person; how you weren't as lively, as expressive, as loud, as… as outgoing.

would he be disappointed? would he feel scammed, somehow?

however, those nasty little questions in your head died down the moment he pulled your hand to his cheek, nuzzling against your palm.

he didn't seem to care, and that's because he didn't.

“i am happy,” he nodded quietly, his voice deep and soft. “truly happy.”

your face softened.

he truly was, it was written all over his face, even when you thought it wouldn't be.

unable to help yourself anymore, you leaned in to hug him again, which he immediately allowed.

his hands rubbed circles against your back, and when you finally spoke, his breath hitched.

“i'm happy too, zayne.”

he faintly smiled, nuzzling the top of your head.

this was okay; you being you was okay. no matter how stark the contrast was between your online persona and how you acted over text, you were still you.

and he was in love with you, and everything that came with it.~

[cabriolett]

the first time aizawa ever smiled in class [aizawa x nurse!reader]

the training ground was wrecked. you could see it, dust swirling up in great puffs as class 1a huffed and panted on the ground. you'd just been passing by, on your way to help recovery girl in the infirmary, when you noticed aizawa standing with a bunch of spent kids. naturally, you wanted to witness for yourself the horrors of having the legendary eraser head as a homeroom teacher.

"so," you drawled out, "what did the evil teacher do now?"

you walked over to aizawa's side, ignoring the stiffening of his frame as the students whined about their gruelling mid-semester fitness test. you chuckled, glancing over to see if anyone was injured or needed your help.

you immediately noticed bakugo on the side, bickering with kaminari.

"bakugo," came aizawa's low, earthy voice. "you wasted time trying to prove your strength. you could have won faster."

the blonde haired boy scoffed. "dealing with idiots is my weakness."

"actually," you chimed in, "i think emotions are your weakness."

you'd meant it completely observationally, just a little critique from a passerby. but the whole class went rigid, and even aizawa's face had an imperceptible grimace to it.

bakugo's crimson eyes narrowed, and he let out a bellow.

"WHAT DID YOU JUST SAY?"

your hands flew up in surrender. shit. apparently, not the right thing to say to a kid whose ego was so high it could be a pillar.

"sorry," you muttered, physically moving away from the boy who represented a living firecracker. "i just think you're a little sensitive, that's-"

"HOW DARE YOU CALL ME SENSITIVE, YOU OLD HAG-"

"that's enough."

you sighed a breath of relief. god forbid the day you became so scared of a literal teenager. but you were kind of impressed at how it only took two words from his teacher for the entire class to go silent.

dominating. hot.

you turned around and waved a hand at the class, signalling your farewell. but just before you could leave, you saw something that made your heart skip a beat.

at the corner of shota aizawa's mouth, was a tiny, almost invisible but definitely present, smirk. and he was looking right at you.

[wild-imagines-and-stories]

Romantic Gestures That Shouta Aizawa Would Do

Pairing: Shouta Aizawa x reader

Fanfiction Masterlist

My Hero Academia Characters & The Romantic Gestures That They Do

Multi Fandom: Romantic Gestures That They Do

Shouta Aizawa's romantic gestures are defined by his logic, protective nature, and a surprising private soft spot. As a man who often finds social interaction and "showy" displays irrational, his affection is expressed through quiet, high-utility acts and a deep physical presence when behind closed doors.

Safety Checks: Aizawa shows love by being hyper-vigilant about your safety. This includes checking in on you multiple times a day when you're apart and ensuring you have everything you need to stay out of harm's way.

Practical Morning Routine: While Aizawa is not one for grand breakfasts, he would never leave without brewing a fresh pot of coffee for you or giving you a silent goodbye kiss before heading to U.A.

Silent Problem Solving: If Aizawa notices you are stressed about anything, he won't ask dozens of questions; instead, he'll wordlessly take on a chore for you or bring you your favorite "comfort items" like your favorite snacks or favorite drink from your favorite cafe.

"Logical" Stay-in Dates: Aizawa prefers low-maintenance dates that double as rest. This often involves "blanket burrito" sessions on the couch, watching documentaries, or simply existing in the same space while working on individual tasks.

The Shared Nap: Since sleep is Aizawa's most precious resource, inviting you to nap with him is the ultimate sign of trust and affection. He finds your presence efficient for his own mental and emotional health.

Cat Advocacy: Dates with Aizawa might include low-key nightly strolls to feed neighborhood stray cats, a shared hobby that aligns with his well-known love for cats.

Clingy Home Persona: While Aizawa is stoic in public to protect your privacy and safety, he is surprisingly affectionate at home. He enjoys wrapping his arms around your waist from behind or burying his face in your hair to shut out the world's stresses.

Subtle Public Contact: In public, Aizawa avoids overt PDA to maintain a low profile. Instead, he'll reach for your hand under a table or rub small circles in your palm—a secret signal known only to the two of you.

Using His Capture Scarf: On rare, playful occasions, Aizawa might use his capture scarf to gently snag your waist and pull you closer for a demanded kiss or cuddle.

Dropping the Mask: Aizawa's greatest romantic gesture is allowing you to see the vulnerable side he hides from everyone else, including his students and colleagues. This includes venting about his day or sharing his deep-seated insecurities.

Direct Honesty: Aizawa doesn't play games. If he chooses to be with you, it's a deliberate, rational decision based on absolute trust. He'll be brutally honest with you because he respects your ability to handle the truth.

[zweetpea]

You: Pantalone? Can you please help me with the zipper?

Pantalone: Of course, Darling. *zips*

You: Up, Pantalone.

Pantalone: I don’t think so, Darling… *kisses you neck.*

[strwbiesskiss]

ִֶָ. ..𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ🪽་༘࿐ Miscellaneous Pantalone head cannons

— ᨳଓ Pantalone who buys you both the most beautiful, crystalline rings to adorn your delicate fingers and buys himself a matching ring to wear.

— ᨳଓ Pantalone who has many elegant jewelry pieces that rotate depending on his whim but the pieces that match your own rings never leave the rotation.

— ᨳଓ Pantalone who always settles into a lush, steamy bath in your shared tub at the end of the day. He only insists on the best for his dearest and he’ll never let you bathe without the essentials. The essentials being candles, petals, bath salts, etc.

— ᨳଓ Pantalone who’s stupidly good at negotiating and every time you chide or plea with him to cut down on his rather unsavory habit of smoking he placates you with nothing but reassuring apologies and a gentle, velvet clad hand on the small of your back guiding you away.

— ᨳଓ Pantalone who’s work keeps his schedule very busy but to Pantalone his time is currency. His attention is a sacred, intense thing and it’s only delt out in increments but for you he gives unabashedly. There’s always ways to make time for what you love and Pantalone is quite deft in making sure you’re never neglected.

— ᨳଓ Pantalone who drags a rather reluctant you to balls or “diplomatic” events. His presence is usually required at such things and while he himself loathes the false pleasantries and pious creatures glancing to him with favor it’s so much tolerable with you at his side. Although Pantalone would much prefer you to stay in the comfort of your home. The people at these events are such ..troublesome creatures. He’d hate for you to feel uncomfortable or worse to be looked upon with contempt. Yet you always look so breath taking when you’re adorned in the dresses he gifts you.

— ᨳଓ Pantalone who lavishes you with as many gifts and everything your heart could desire but his heart truly lies in words. Pantalone is a smart man, he knows that words are as powerful extension as the user chooses. They can be soothing and saccharine or venomous and rallying depending on a well placed compliment, passive aggressive criticism, or biting inflection. Therefore Pantalone is always one to vocalize just how loved you are. He’ll shower you in the sweetest nicknames, compliments, etc.

— ᨳଓ Pantalone who adores seeing your face light up when you shop. When you’d first dated the renowned harbinger you politely, almost bordering meekly, declined his invitations to send you on a little shopping spree but Pantalone if anything is very persistent and convincing, he knows when to be a subtle force puppeteering from behind the scenes or when to take the reigns rather quickly. Now you’re a very pampered thing and you hardly have a protest about “wasting his mora” as you put it.

— ᨳଓ Pantalone who will wake you with breakfast in bed. The warm sun will stream through your velvet curtains and onto your sleep addled face in warm rays. You’re always pleasantly surprised when he graces you with a kiss to the forehead and gently places the tray into your hands. He’s surprisingly a good cook. As you rest beneath your fluffy duvets and silken sheets and happily nip at your meal you can’t help but feel so blessed to have him.

— ᨳଓ Pantalone who will wrap you up in his heavy, thick fur coat as you stand with him beneath the dotted starry sky on your grand balcony. The Snezhnayan air is biting and stark compared to the warm air of your home. In times such as these Pantalone may be entirely quiet or regal you with tales, complaints, or commentary on his coworkers, work, etc. You don’t exactly always follow but you’re always willing to listen and it’s something that he adores. Pantalone will wrap you up close to keep you warm. You’ll chide him as he pulls a cigarette out to have a quick smoke and he’ll just smile swiftly changing the topic to how beautiful you are or something else.

— ᨳଓ Pantalone who will guide you round and round the smooth, polished floors of your rosewood floor as the low, soothing notes of music fill the air. You’re not the best dancer but it’s always sweet to unwind via waltz. You like the silken feeling of his glove clad hands on your skin as he leads in step.

— ᨳଓ Pantalone who will trail warm, plush kisses down you back as you try on one of the many dresses he’s bought you. He’s quite distracting and it’ll lead to flushed cheeks and huffs about him stoping. He’ll gently hold your waist and coo about how utterly perfect you look and you’ll lightly hit his shoulder telling him to go work or something else but bother you. He’ll give a stupid charming chuckle of his and see himself out but not without a kiss.

— ᨳଓ Pantalone who will rest his head against your chest when he’s had a particularly stressful day. Too many talks, request, paperwork, meetings. You’ll guide him to your chest and card your fingers through his thick, soft locks. Simply providing your attention is so wonderful to him. He’ll huff and complain about his stress but your kisses always placate.

— ᨳଓ Pantalone who insist you take your rightful seat in his lap as he works. Paperwork upon paperwork is tiring after a while but having your weight and warmth nearby is perfect. He can scribble away with one hand while the other reverently trails up your side. He’ll rest his chin on your head and breathe in the smell of your sweet shampoo. The air is still and silent besides your shared breaths and the flicker of your fireplace.

[mwphisto]

Imagine Sylus realizing you haven’t called out of work in over 4 months so he gives you a proper reason to call out the following day by fucking you to the point you genuinely can’t walk without a limp...

“I can’t… I can’t feel… Sylus…!” You didn’t even know it was possible for your legs to bend this far, nevermind that you were this flexible in the first place. His grip on the back of your thighs only grows tighter, squeezing your flesh a little harder as he applies more pressure down.

“Yes you can… you can take it… you’re going to keep taking it like the good girl you are… like the good girl you’ve been…” You can’t control the whimper that leaves you, head tossing back as he presses more of his weight down on you… into you.

The mating press is brutal, your thighs are nearly crushing your breasts at this point. Your spine curves awkwardly, your hands are digging into your calves, you’ve lost all feeling below your waist.

Except for where his cock bullies your swollen, overstimulated cunt.

Throbbing with need each time he pounds down into you, swallowing him greedily despite your babbled pleas for him to maybe ease up or slow down. You have work tomorrow, after all.

“You’re not going, clearly I’m not… fucking you hard enough… if you’re still thinking about that …” Even with his stamina, he’s panting from the exertion. Face flushed and aether-core practically blinding. The sight alone is enough to have you crying out, cumming around his cock for the fifth or maybe sixth time since he’s entered you.

[gojos-version]

Satoru and forced breeding

MDNI.

He's pounding into you with harsh precision, each hard swip! Of his balls slapping against your ass filled the room accompanied with your shared gasping and moaning.

Satoru's been insisting on pulling out lately and you hate it. You want him to fill you up and make your insides white not pull out and cum on your stomach.

It made you sad because why wouldn't he want to fill you up? He always came inside of you till... Recently.

Based on how his body was trembling and twitching above you, you knew he was close. You knew his high was creeping up and you had the perfect idea.

You force his eyes to make eye contact with yours as your hands cup his face, cunt fluttering around him at how red his cheeks got. "Y-you close, baby?", he huffs out a "Y-yeah!" and brings his head down to snuggle in your neck. Satorus pace quickens making the bed squeak out with the rhythm; the sheer force of his pace has your body moving up with each plunge his cock slams into you.

Any second now. Your legs wrap around his hips and lock together giving him no room to pull out and cum on your tummy. Perfect.

"'M gonna cum! Lemme pulll ouuuut-!" Satoru whimpers and his body shockwaves against yours as he's trying oh so hard to hold himself back but your legs tighten your hold around his waist, it makes a pool of arousal wave through him. The feeling of you taking some sort of control makes something in him snap as his hips speed up in a messy, sloppy rhythm.

"B-baby-!" Satorus eyes roll back and his muscles tense before letting out a loud wail as his body convulses. His cock fills you riiight up with his thick seed and it wasn't a little amount, no. It was such a big amount that you could feel warmth spurting into your abdomen and leaking out on the sheets bellow.

"Made me cum inside.... Hah....." His Cerulean eyes flicker down to you with a slight smirk, "You fuckin wanted this huh?" Your half lidded eyes meet his and you smile; giving him his answer.

"Fuckin' slut." He grits out before snapping his hips against you in unforgiving speed. You scream out with how sensitive you were still and your hands clench at his shoulders each time his mushroomed tip kissed your womb. It wasn't even funny at how your tummy bulged each time he thrusted himself deeper.

Your legs were jumping and twitching around him, "S-sllooowww-! Angh-! D-doowhn-! O-oh-!" You're cut off with a specific thrust that echoes in the room as he stops and grinds against you.

"What huh? Now its too much?" He coos and you dumbly nodd your head making a wicked smile tug his lips. "Too bad, We'll be here for a while."

"Wha-" You can't even get a word out before you're flipped over and he's resumed his rhythm, fucking into you like its the last time he'll ever be inside of you.

Yeah. It was going to be a very long night.

A/n- hey guys I'm still alive I promise!! I'm trying to post as much as I can 😔 im still finishing up my Toji fic so take this drabble I can offer.... I hope it's okay and you have a lovely day lovelies <33

Masterlist<3 Au masterlist<3

Taglist!

@fictionaldreamerauthor

[rockingbytheseaside]

when you are in a pretend marriage part two when? ;)

✦ When you are in a pretend marriage (part II)

(Pierro, Capitano, Dottore, Scaramouche, Pantalone)

Tw: slight yandere, vague discussion on children, long fic. Check Part I here!

With the sudden predicament of becoming the spouse of a Harbinger, one must acclimate to their new life. After all, this wasn’t a mere charade of idle houseplay. This was an order bestowed by her Majesty the Tsaritsa, binding the two of you. Thus, having little recourse in the matter, you had to get used to your sudden “married” reality. At least, so you thought. You weren’t the only one clueless in this stage play of marriage, for even your beloved husband had to learn his lines.

✧ Every time you rose from your sanctuary of sleep, the same flutter of a mini panic attack would seize you until you realized who the man beside you was – Pierro. Just when you thought this was all an elaborate prank woven by your dreams, the unmistakable grasp of his arms cradling you is as unyielding as Snezhnaya’s frost. You’d wake up on your side, snuggly wrapped in a bed of satin and warm duvets. Until you’d realize the warmth spooning you from behind was his. No, the pretend wedding was not a dream. 

Even in slumber, the composure of his countenance was elegant. You’d turn carefully towards him, brushing a stray strand of silver hair. What are you even supposed to do with him? Live happily ever after like that every day?

“Hm, ...Morning already?” – He stirred upon the faintest touch of your fingers, eyebrows furrowing. “Apologies, how reckless of me. I was meant to rise early to surprise you with breakfast in bed.”

Ah, so he has some humor in him, even at an early hour like this. 

“No, no. It’s too early. Sorry if I woke you up. Besides, who says you owe me breakfast in bed from now on?” – You watched him sit up beside you, the pale morning light lay bare on Khaenri’ahn scars on his other eye. Maskless for you to witness in the privacy of shared bedchambers.

“Hm? Overly formal of me, perhaps? Very well. I ought to have embraced my role more convincingly. Now that it is morning, I should’ve kept you in my arms and congratulate us both on consummating our marri-”

“We didn’t consummate a thing.”

He smiled, a thoughtful hum escaping him.

“…You’re correct, we didn’t do that either.” 

You’d scowl whenever he wore that silent expression of mild amusement. As if his smile promised: ‘one day, then’. What does a cold Harbinger like him ponder in his solemn silence? Probably thinking how the sight of your tousled hair, strewn carelessly across his pillows, should’ve been a vision destined for his eyes long ago. But the Harbinger was wiser than that and knew not to press your buttons first thing in the morning. 

Witnessing the Director's routine up and personal was a spectacle. Like clockwork, he was already washed, dressed, and making the bed. Unfortunately, your desire for ‘five more minutes’ was far stronger than his desire for tidiness at an early hour. His solution? Lift you by the waist, even when you clutch onto pillows, set you aside, make the bed, and take you back into his arms if needed. Uncomplicated. 

“Shall I request the servants to make blini with smetana today? Hm, no, perhaps poached eggs with sweet potatoes and salad is better. I might have a meeting in the evening, but I will try to leave early either way. Would you prefer some ring shopping? I know the wedding and engagement rings were already assigned for us, but if you wish for more custom-made jewelry, we can-”

“Pierro.” 

You approached him suddenly, still in your sleepwear, a pillow tucked beneath one arm. With a disgruntled expression of drowsiness, you came to fix his collar with gentle precision before giving him a pat on the shoulders.

“Shh… Just go to work. Be on your merry way.” 

He blinked at you, a dark gaze bestowed on him.

“And you won’t send me off with a kiss first?” 

With shoulders sagging and a pout, you relented. The Jester knew his role well, and even when he inclined his side of the face for a tender peck, he’d return it with another of his own. An unhurried, deliberate kiss. His gloved hands cradled the side of your jawline as he whispered.

“You're far too endearing a sight. Though I am truly lucky to be the only one to see it in the mornings.”

✧ Capitano was the ever-accommodating gentleman, regardless of whether this marriage was born of pretense or genuine desire. The two of you might’ve been fulfilling some bizarre duty set by the Tsaritsa, yet he never presumed upon your comfort, especially now that the two of you share a grand manor as your household.

Anything you desire, he’d accommodate. A separate master bathroom? All for you. An upper floor reserved for your leisurely pursuits or a study room? Already granted. And most notably, The Captain personally inquired if you wished for separate bedchambers.

You replied with gentle candor, confessing no discomfort in sharing a bed. Are the two of you not spouses now? Yet surprisingly, the hesitant silence that followed the Harbinger told you he might be timid in such regards. Did you perhaps cross the line? You tried to take your words back with an apology, but instead, Capitano quickly cleared his throat:

“No, no. The issue is not as you suppose. The truth is, I cannot accompany you with blissful sleep. My… constitution does not allow me to, at least.”

Oh, you realized. You nearly forgot. Capitano’s curse of immortality was of a different nature than most, not a merciful state. There you sat upon your knees atop the mattress, already dressed in your sleepwear before him. The two of you shared a wistful silence before you glanced at him:

“Please, come here.”

The Harbinger couldn’t disobey. Clad in a tightly fitting shirt and simple lounge wear, he sat at the edge of the bed.

“Even if you can’t sleep or dream like everyone else,” – you looked at him with determination. “Then at least let me stay up with you for a while. We can just talk, anything that may trouble your weary mind.”

“Please, my cherished. I can’t allow myself to keep you awake all night. You need your rest.”

But you shook your head and urged him. It took a while to persuade him that you are open to just his presence in the dimness of the night. That even if he spoke about everything or nothing, you’d rather fall asleep by his side than pretend he is a monster incapable of peace, even in the privacy of his own household. And how could he say no to your unselfishness? Your form, washed and ready for bed, welcoming him with open arms. He easily relented, cradling your form against his own, and he sat in bed beside you.  

“If you grant me the opportunity to talk your ear out until you fall asleep, then how can I deny such an opportunity to my beloved?”

And so the two of you conversed the entire night. You just rested there, your head resting on his chest, listening to him entertain your whims and curiosities: about his travels, his battles, his life in Khaenri’ah. Anything, truly. Even when your yawns tortured you, and eyelids chained you down to shut them, you insisted that he’d continue. His hand was warm. Pitch-black skin marred with scars rested on your back, drawing soothing caresses.

“You know, Capi,” – You whispered thoughtfully, your ear pressed on his chest. “I can actually hear your heart from here. It’s…”

“...Unnatural?”

“Mechanical, almost. But soothing.”

The heavy toll of keeping your eyelids open was a cumbersome battle, and thus, the Harbinger silently watched as you fell asleep in his arms. Your breathing mellowed down, and your hair rested sprawled on him. Even if this Khaenri’ahn man cannot dream in the traditional sense, staying still to gaze upon your slumbering form was a far better dream than he could ever pray for. 

With a deliberate kiss on your forehead, he stayed a while to hold you – “Sleep well, my cherished.”

✧ Pretending Dottore’s personal life was one of intimate domesticity was a lie so foolish, not a living Fatuus would believe such a pretense. A cunning scholar like him would never yearn for a family; such thoughts would be more corrupting than forbidden knowledge.

Yet how come the said scholar was the one preparing a balanced dinner for you and the younger segment? You assumed he’d burn the kitchen, but nothing Dottore’s calculating ambition can’t achieve when he is measuring ingredients like a chemical concoction. How come this same scholar was going through multiple iterations of a baklava recipe because the younger segment didn’t like the pistachios' saltiness? Now he stood, overwriting some notes to fix the measurements with mathematical accuracy. The young Zandik and Dottore share the same tastes after all. And lastly, how come this same scholar said he does not seek a partner or spouse, yet keeps imploring you to accompany him in all his endeavors? 

Why would a heretic yearn for a family? You weren’t the only one asking that, for even the Doctor questioned his ambition towards you. Another mask to don, one with the title of a “loving husband and father”, how is it different from his countless other masks?

Every time Dottore saw you chase after the energetic young segment by the cobbled streets of Sumeru, he’d stand behind watching silently. Perhaps the sun of his homeland was never harsh on his skin. Whenever that small boy tugged at your hand to point at things, you’d crouch down to explain to him like a patient parent. Dottore would cross his arms and join the conversation, your tone so infectious that he couldn’t help but educate the youth, too. Even if he technically wasn’t his “son”, but a clone. 

One late evening, as he took the liberty of extinguishing the corridor lights, his attention was drawn to the thin sliver of light spilling through the child’s door. Passing with silent footsteps, he caught the murmur of your voice inside. You sat by the tucked-in boy in bed and read him a book. Then came the timid voice of the segment calling your name:

“... Is it true that this is only temporary? You and Prime would go your separate ways once the Tsaritsa told you to?”

“Well, sweetie. It might’ve been an order by a certain cryo archon, but since when have either Dottore or I obeyed some gods, hm?”

“Then what will become of me? If he must discard me as an experiment, he can leave then! Can’t you stay… with me?”

Though Dottore could not glimpse your expression from here, he heard your deep sigh, probably ruffling the segment’s curly hair. “Oh, silly. I would never allow Dottore to get rid of you. Heh, he’ll have to fight me first, I promise you that.”

Dottore did not intrude; He just quietly walked away.

The following early morning bore a grand occasion. The young segment was heading to his first day at school. The colorful, tactical school supplies you bought on a spree are finally coming in handy. Now, you stood and tenderly fixed the emerald-green uniform on the boy, while he clutched his backpack with wide, expectant ruby eyes. Your words of encouragement may be the ever-loving one, but Dottore clearly saw how the child’s quiet bravado was an instinctual habit of anxiety. Even this young segment mirrored some of the same fears he inheritance from The Doctor. 

The Harbinger crouched down and sternly gazed at the child. The two Zandiks stared at each other before the oldest one spoke:

“Remember now. What did I teach you about molecular biology?

“...That two classes of macromolecules are the most important part of cells. The nucleic acids and proteins.” 

“And?”

“And… that nucleic acids store and transmit genetic information, while proteins carry out most of the structural and functional tasks in the cell.“

“Excellent,” – Dottore concluded, before that smirk of sharp teeth graced him once more. “Now go decimate them with your wisdom.” 

The boy beamed up in an instant. Sometimes, you forget that the two of them are the same devilish genius. With a mimicking toothy smile, the kid bounced off towards the school’s entrance. You and the Harbinger stood quietly.

“Molecular components of cells? Already?”

With idle ease, his arm snuck around your waist, and he pulled you to his side.

“Hm? Is that not what children ought to know by memory? I remember at his age, I was already reciting the names of the twenty amino acids instead of counting sheep to sleep.”  

✧ When the head shrine maiden of the grand Narukami Shrine first received the news of Scaramouche’s official marriage, she scoffed. The once prototype made by Ei, Kunikuzushi, received blessings not from his archon maker but from the archon of Snezhnaya. Fate sure has its humorous ways, thought Yae Miko. Not that Beelzebul would ever leave her Plane of Euthimya to witness the marriage. 

But her opinion of this regard mattered little. Several months ago, an official diplomatic request was sent from Zapolyarny Palace to conduct the wedding in a modest yet serviceable manner, as expected of Inzauman costumes. After all, the Harbinger in question hails from here, and the Narukami shrine couldn’t deny the Tsaritsa’s negotiation.

That was several months ago. Now the married Harbinger sat before Guuji Yae. Though both of them kept amicable courtesy, their expression mirrored one another - a barely veiled scowl. 

“I must say, Kunikuzushi, congratulations are in order. Not only did you bind someone to your name, but I wouldn’t have thought you’d seek to host your wedding in your home region.”

“It’s Harbinger Scaramouche, Miko. I implore you to remember that since you’re in a diplomatic meeting, not idle chit-chat. Besides, the location and details were ordered by Her Majesty the Tsaritsa.” 

“Oh? So arranged by someone else. My, my. And here I thought you were living the fairytale life. How are they, by the way? Your spouse.” 

The Balladeer’s hands clutch into fists. His cool expression might be schooled to stoicism, but Yae could clearly discern that smoldering note of loathing in his eyes. She used her words cunningly, throwing several baits to see which one catches: the mention of this marriage, or Scaramouche’s beloved. 

To Yae Miko’s surprise, her bait didn’t latch on. Because as Scaramouche was about to reply, one of the shrine maidens arrived with a hasty bow, declaring the arrival of the Harbinger’s spouse. Indeed, you appeared soon after, trailed by attendants and burdened with an array of shopping bags – “Apologies, dear. Are you still in a meeting? Greetings, great Guuji Yae. I hope there was no intrusion on my part.”

Whatever Fatui diplomatic matters were discussed with the Narukami shrine was completely forgotten, and The Harbinger was already by your side. They say husbands are particularly doting on their spouses during the honeymoon phase. But the Balladeer was always like that with you. Rushing to your side, silently taking whatever heavy items out of your grasp, subtly fixing your hairstyle when you walk in. 

Most surprisingly, Yae couldn’t see false acting from either of you. These two were absolutely not pretending…

“Ah, the person of the hour. Kunikuzushi, introduce me to your darling. I see that the Tsaritsa had a good pick for you.” – The shrine maiden followed when she caught how tenderly the Harbinger spoke to you. You looked unassuming at first glance, no discomfort or anxiety in the way you reciprocated Scaramouche’s touch. 

“Miss Yae. A pleasure to formally meet you. I heard a lot about you from my husband.” – You nodded politely, your mannerism as delicate as your formal smile. “Such as your preferences for discarding others like toys.”

Ah, a fine gem indeed, thought Yae. Either the Tsaritsa chose well, or Scaranouche had impeccable taste. Though now she can see how you would’ve caught his eye. 

“We didn't have the pleasure of meeting you during the wedding, so we couldn't relay our gratitude for hosting the celebration. As a thank you, I humbly prepared an omiyage from Snezhnaya.” – from one of the numerous bags, you introduced a carefully wrapped parcel as a travel gift. “A matryoshka doll. A local craft. This way, if you feel like throwing away any more puppets, I won't have to worry about you harming what's now mine.” 

Your tender smile alluded to The Shrine Maiden and the Balladeer. Such a simple statement, yet your gentleness was no mere ornament of character. So much bite into your gift. Clearly, Yae regarded you as a fine opponent. Scaramouche, for his part, who was silent in shock, had to conceal his own awe. 

“All business concluded now, Scara?” 

“Fortunately, yes. Let us take our leave.” 

With formal farewells exchanged and measured bows offered, the two of you left Narukami Shrine. Or rather, from Yae’s vantage, you left with a rather giddy puppet trailing in tow, eager to intertwine his hand with yours the moment the doors slid closed.

✧ Months after the pretend honeymoon vacation, Pantalone kept gloating about his marriage to you as if it were a trophy worth polishing. In his residency, he hummed a chipper tune while he framed his favorite photos of the recent trip: 

The Regrator smiled merrily into the camera while he held you hostage in his embrace. A picturesque landscape of Liyue can be seen in the background. 

Pantalone, smiling to the camera again, presenting an absurdly massive carnival plushie to you. It’s hard to tell whether you were glaring at him or the big plushie.

Oh, this one is his favorite! Pantalone is under the shade of an umbrella with you in a Fontanian resort. He’s grinning the same way, and you’re scowling the same way. At least, you’re wearing a cute summer hat. 

Truly joyful memories. 

“There we go. The photos have been set up on our study’s wall, darling. Aren’t they just wonderful?”  

From your place upon the chaise, you cast him a passing glance. “Mhm, they hang like in a museum. Now you can summon all your friends to boast about how much mora you put on this trip alone.”

“Tsk, tsk. Darling. This isn’t about the mora spent on leisure. It’s about us going on a romantic trip for newlyweds.”

“A pretend romantic trip,” – you corrected lowly.

“... Pretend, yes.” – Pantalone repeated in hushed murmur, before averting his focus from the photos towards you “But that’s what our contract ensued. And we fulfilled it to the best of our abilities. Aren’t you satisfied with the arrangement?”

“We did, certainly. Though you tend to forget, dear, that people marry and go on honeymoon not to fulfill a contract but to celebrate sincerely.”

At first, the Harbinger took his seat in composed silence beside you. He was not oblivious to your discontent with the arrangement made by Her Majesty the Tsaritsa. Not that you two don’t get along, but you were always a person of sincerity, not duplicity. Thus, the Regrator clasped his hands cheerfully together. 

“Ah, you’re right. Then perhaps, we should file for a divorce as soon as possible! A pretend divorce, so that I can immediately propose and we can go on the same honeymoon without pretense this time! What do you think?”

“Pfft- you’re ridiculous, Pantalone.” 

At least, The Regrator managed to draw a smile out of you. He joined along with a chuckle, before his own thoughts grasped him in a looming shadow. He quietly asked:

“...If I had to propose to you, not as a Harbinger, or as Pantalone, would you have said yes then?”

You did not reply. You cast your gaze aside, as if your own answer was a melancholic thought of what could’ve been under mundane circumstances. If you and he were untouched by present titles and bargains. Just regular people, working, falling in love, getting married, living in their own world. Instead, you only gave him a single glimmer of longing with a simple statement: “I wish I had known you before you became the 9th.”

His eyebrows slowly raised. But Pantalone didn’t dare to utter another word on that topic. 

“You know, we may have fulfilled the obligation with the honeymoon phase, but we did miss one additional footnote in our contract,” – He returned to his usual smugness as he pushed his glasses. His smile always alluded to trouble. “It’s not obligatory by any means, but usually, young married couples also may end up with a child after a while! What do you think?”

Silence between you two. 

You stared him dead in the eyes. “Alright. Get ready. You’re getting pregnant, Pantalone.” 

If glasses could crack from sheer bafflement of their wearer, his would shatter in that moment. The Harbinger decided not to play with fire today. 

“N-... Nevermind. I concede.”

if you read this far I love u, thank you to everyone who patiently waited for part II

[rockingbytheseaside]

✦ How they hold you in bed when sleeping

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Are you coming to bed or not?” 

“Come here, closer.” 

“No, you are pushing around.”

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

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

“43 beats per minute.” 

You blinked sleepily - “... wha-” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Honey?” - Pantalone called gently. 

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

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

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

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

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

How naive he was. 

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

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

It should’ve been him! 

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

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

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

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

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

[rockingbytheseaside]

Hi! I wanted to say I absolutely adore your art and headcannons! I wanted to ask if you would be interested in making a headcannon for our lovely harbingers where there is someone trying to sabotage their relationship with the reader like for example the person is saying that the reader is cheating or is saying mean things about the harbingers and that they have ,,proof" it is if course a lie. Don't force yourself to do anything you don't want to tho!

(Absolutely genius idea! Sorry to keep you waiting! I’m a slow writer…)

✦ When others try to sabotage your relationship with them

Pierro, Capitano, Dottore, Scaramouche, Pantalone, Childe

(tw: general mentions of violence and blood. sfw) 

Being intimate with a powerful Fatui Harbinger provides the illusory dream of having riches, power, and status. Some watch you with hushed murmurs as you accompany your beloved with linked arms, looking all elegant beside him. Perhaps some people cannot comprehend how such a ruthless Fatuus can even court someone like you. Others simply cannot comprehend that status and money is not a key factor in your relationship.

✧ To crossfire with Pierro is to go against every single Fatui Harbinger. The Director is known far and wide as a man of cold words and power beyond the seven nations. All valuable intel and actions are reported to him first and foremost, as even the top Harbingers bow before him. You, on the other hand, were not meant to bow before him. The Jester shall never let you lower your head, because it is he who shall stoop to worship you. 

However recently, a certain rumor reached his ears. His spies related to him info that certain Fatui soldiers, some lowly commoners at the bottom of the ranks, are spreading uncouth jabs about you and Pierro. Intel states that these fools think you infiltrated the Fatui and The Director’s inner circle by some intimate provocation and seduction; that you’re in it for the money and status.

Pierro’s gloved hands gripped the papers. Nevertheless, his expression is placid as always. 

Thus, the culprit now sat in Pierro’s office, trembling as the room oozed with murderous silence. The Jester never raised his voice, nor did he question the man who “joked” about you. The fellow kept spitting apologies, begging for mercy. He knew it was futile to lie or waste the Director's patience.

And the Jester? It took everything in his power not to get his gloved hands bloodied. To hear someone accuse you - his most cherished, as a shallow harlot? Consequences shall be faced. Calming his boiling turmoil, Pierro continued to conduct himself professionally:

He made sure the man and his entire generation met their oblivion. 

With the recruitment of his best spies, he ascertained that the culprit’s disappearance was not felt by a single soul, his entire family gone, and all traces of spread rumors eradicated. Above all, it was orchestrated so that you would remain unaware that anyone dared to tarnish your reputation.

You carried on with your life, blissfully unaware and undisturbed. Even now, you came in knocking on his office, asking: “Long day at work, honey? I can bring you some tea or coffee if you want.”

The Jester's smile returned, throwing away some crumbled documents into the trash can - “A tea break would be excellent, my divine.”

If it’s blood that needs to be spilled to protect you and his private affairs, then Pierro won’t think twice. 

✧ For Il Capitano, the way of the blade speaks more for its wielder than words. If you wish to prove your stance, you better be prepared to face the First Fatui Harbinger, as his might will test you in a relentless duel of strength. So what do you think happened when Capitano overheard someone calling you “weak”? That his beloved does not deserve an ounce of his attention, because you are a meek being compared to the Harbinger? 

His hand instantly found its place on the hilt of his claymore. He left no room for negotiation or doubt. He marched straight towards the culprit, unsheathed his weapon, and pointed the sharp point of his blade straight at the person.

“If you are so confident to spit such insolence about them, then you must be equally confident with your strength. Let your blade speak.”

The poor fool tried to defend himself with excuses. But his mocking meant nothing to the Captain’s weapon. Before you know it, there is an ongoing duel initiated by Il Capitano. The witnesses know that whoever is on the receiving end of his wrath has no chance of surviving. Not when a single swing of his weapon causes craters on the ground.

The man was about to collapse, accepting his violent demise. But just as Capitano was about to unleash his final lesson, your voice rang out amongst the crowd.

“Hey! Cease this commotion at once!” - you stepped up, your expression stern as you stood in front of your beloved. In a rare moment of vulnerability, the Captain’s already stoic body language shifted. His claymore was sheathed back to its place.

“My beloved, you shouldn’t have seen this…”

“And yet I did. It would’ve reached my ears anyway. What did I say about temperamental duels, Capitano? Morons are not worth it.” 

“He called you weak. I cannot allow it.”

For a minute, Capitano kept his head hung low in reverence. You stood with your arms on your hips, scolding him. Was it not for your intervention, that person who vocally mocked you would’ve been lying dead now. Instead, you spared the offender, and the man was allowed to flee in humiliation. 

The conflict was eradicated, and Capitano's imposing demeanor showed he didn't regret his actions. Considering how even Capitano bowed to your words, the accuser realized - you are not weak. Because if there was one person who made the First Harbinger go motionless then it was you. 

✧ Today was a good day for Il Dottore, but you weren't sure why. He was a tad clingy, his steps laced with a sense of giddiness. Giving you extra squeezes while hugging, smothering you with longer kisses on the cheek. Even as you sat idly in his lab, you watched him as he worked on some paperwork with a grin.

Thus you questioned him, lazily strolling around his lab and observing the countless tools or vials. But he waved off his excitement, tapping his pencil over some papers - “Nothing of major importance, but I did have something interesting happen recently.”

You raised an eyebrow, beckoning him to continue.

“An idiot made a pathetic attempt at spreading rumors about us.” - You stopped in your tracks, going still as you held some miscellaneous container with what seemed to be tissue samples. The Harbinger continued: “Some fool spoke behind your back; stating that anyone who is close with a heretical scholar is bound to be equally insane. They thought that if their words didn't reach you, then it's of no consequence.”

Your expression fell somber with each word Dottore spoke. He said it with such profound avidity, that his voice demonstrated threatening intent behind them. So he continued. “But you know me, dear. Nothing goes past me. Vile nicknames are nothing new to me. My work is not for the faint of heart, and those pesky cretins enjoy concealing their fear with profane titles. And they can call me whatever they want. However, I won't allow them to call you names. Not because of my work.”

You averted your gaze sadly onto the samples of veins and organs in vials. You pretended to inspect them, but your sorrow was more prominent. You suspected Dottore already did something, hence his unusual giddiness today. Thus, you inquired in a soft whisper - “So… what did you do?”

“I handled it, naturally.”

“...You did? What happened? To the person who said such things, I mean.”

“What happened? Dear, you're holding them in your hands right now.” - Il Dottore beamed, pointing at the vials of organs you held. 

✧ Today, Scaramouche was eerily silent. You were accompanying him during one of his work expeditions, aiding him with certain formalities regarding his Fatui subordinates. The 6th had soldiers working under him, and although he did not care for their training, he did not tolerate any incompetent weaklings.

Therefore, you decided to lend a hand. You helped conduct a training program for his underlings, making sure all standards were met. It’s not the first time you did so, since The Puppeteer often placed you as the second in command whenever he was absent. And the Fatui soldiers did not conceal their thrill - it’s like you were their favorite substitute teacher who was more cheerful and forgiving than their superior.

Either way, Scaramouche saw that the mission was going smoothly. But soon, lightning would strike. A certain Fatuus, an agent in training, was getting too charmful with you. It was during the usual training assigned by you, and this person was focusing more on his conversation with you than his training:

Telling you how you are a remarkably skilled person. How it’s a marvel to see someone so delightful as you working alongside the Balladeer. How you shouldn’t waste your time with someone as aggravating as Lord Harbinger Scaramouche. He’s even leaning closer towards you.

You smiled uncomfortably, your attempts at polite disagreement did not work with this agent. Yet now you felt the static in the air, and that’s when you realized - Your beloved heard all of it.

On this usual, unassuming morning, Scaramouche walked silently and struck a man with lightning. All eyes turned towards the commotion as you stood behind the Harbinger. His fists were clenched, sparks of electro crackling from them.

He may have been silent the whole day, but don’t mistake his silence for impassivity.

“Next time, know your place,” - he seethed, standing over the person who endeavored to sweet talk you. He permitted his subordinates too much leeway, now they dare charm you with empty flirts. Scaramouche would’ve stomped that man’s head if he wanted, but he wouldn’t create such a grotesque scene in your presence. Instead, he turned away, held your hand, and pulled you away.

He gave you a day off, his mind already conjuring plans to deal with his underlings later. At least he scoffed out an apology. Not for what he did; he does not lament that. Just a small ‘sorry’ for giving you a quick fright. The lightning strike was very loud, after all. 

✧ Pantalone often gets invited to luxurious meetings or extravagant galas. Any party that is attended by the richest man in Teyvat is a guarantee to make high-society elites turn heads. However, considering your prolonged relationship with your darling Pantalone, you know he secretly despises these social gatherings. Therefore, he takes you with him. Dressed in your finest, Pantalone proudly shows you off to the pompous aristocrats.

People would watch enviously, thinking to themselves: The Regrator’s sweetheart, spoiled by his riches. Your attire is as glorious as his expensive suit. His arm is tenderly linked with yours, always offering you his hand like a true gentleman whenever you two walk. Even as he conversed with various business partners, he always had to make sure his hand was around your waist or your hand.

This dotting behavior made certain ladies of Snezhnaya jealous. They could see you were not a noble-born, nor were you used to the attention during such gatherings. You just timidly accompanied him, and Pantalone kept rambling about you and your benign achievements. Childish, really. You’re probably someone who just ran after and clung to the Harbinger until he relented to keep you. Therefore, a group of ladies initiated the conversation: 

“It’s a pleasure to meet a man such as yourself, Lord Harbinger.” and “Why, a man of your status is probably seeking some interesting company. Oh? You are with someone? My, my, I did not notice them.” or “Surely you desire connections worthy of your status, sir.”

Pantalone had mastered the art of courteous smiling, yet even his act was about to crack. He noticed the way these ladies tried to stand too close to him, pretend you were not in the picture, or even passively mock you. Their insolence stenches, and noticing your silent discomfort caused his heart to sting. But he had a plan.

“Why yes, you are right,” - Pantalone smiled with his charming looks “I do value my time, and it’s important to not waste it on shallow conversationalists. Oh, but it’s such a shame that the people in front of us are just that. Isn’t that right, sweetheart?”

Pantalone turned to you, his arms encircling your waist while speaking such backhanded comments with triumphant smiles. The ladies’ smiles fell instantly, and you tried everything to avert your gaze. “Um, Pantalone? Maybe we shouldn’t-”

“Shouldn’t bore ourselves with such lowly individuals? Hmm, I agree. There isn’t much to do here anyway, only the greedy will seek something in this superficial gathering. Oh well, let’s go so I can take you to dance, dear.” - Pantalone concluded in his usual enamoring tone “Ladies, if you would excuse yourself.”

In this world, the 9th of the Fatui Harbinger doesn’t excuse himself - others do. Therefore, he took you away, scoffing and checking up on you with hushed whispers. Pantalone was offended. Why do they assume it was you who desperately sought out the rich Harbinger? Little do they know it was Pantalone who used to run and seek your attention just to be yours. Honestly, they’re discrediting his neediness for you. 

✧ Should anyone meddle with Tartaglia’s personal life, they are picking up a brawl. Someone dares to flirt with you? His fists are ready. Someone said something unwelcoming about you? Anything in the vicinity can be used as a weapon. Someone endangers his relationship? Their life is now in danger.

Of course, you’re the one who consistently yanked him out of these fights. Usually, it’s nothing serious, as when you scold your boyfriend for such reckless behavior it ends with his heartfelt words and apologetic chuckles. He finds solace in embracing you from behind, gently enfolding his arms around your shoulders, reassuring himself that all is well.

However, Tartagia is still a Harbinger. Away from home, he’d personally search for intel on the culprit who dares to offend your relationship. Names, records, locations, anything to keep tabs on those who think they can drag his family into bloodshedding matters. Tracking is of no issue, after all, when he was still a young rookie, training as a Fatui agent was just the first step.

Once he determines the offender, he’ll pay a discreet visit to them. And this time, without you dragging him away from fights, there is no place for mercy or jests.

At night, Childe returned home, cheerful as the sight of you getting ready for bed welcomes him. Yet in the dim lights, you’d gasp and approach him with concern, catching traces of smeared blood on his face or hands.

Ajax would just smile; he didn’t need to explain. Instead, he would quietly approach you from behind and envelop his arms around your shoulders in quiet stillness.

[1-800-c3dr1c]

it’s no secret that pantalone would absolutely spoil you. he’s addicted to seeing a smile on your face, although he’d never admit it out loud.

he’ll keep you safe and happy, and that’s all you ever need to know about how he feels about you. he’s not often vocal about his emotions, and he’s difficult in general to read unless you’re actively searching.

that doesn’t mean he doesn’t love you. he’ll leave you little trinkets, or sometimes just mora itself, telling you in neat penmanship to spoil yourself rotten with what he’s given you.

he especially loves buying you things to wear. doesn’t matter what it is, if he sees you glancing at it for more than a second, it’s in your possession in less than twenty-four hours. he won’t tell you it’s from him, but you’ll know.

it’s what makes him so enamored with you. he doesn’t need to be vocal about how he feels with you, because he knows that you’ll just know. it’s special to him, and he keeps you closer than he’d like to admit.

[rockingbytheseaside]

Hey! Gosh I love your fics, you are so talented! <3 I have a request after your latest fic haha. The sentences 'It's only a matter of time before he accidentally slips and calls you his spouse in front of people.' would be the perfect plot, actually. When and how would the Harbingers calls their s/o 'their wife' in front of others first time? If you don't like it, you don't have to do it! i hope you have an awesome day!

(hehe, yes, accidentally… mmm. Enjoy!)

✦ They accidentally call you their spouse 

Pierro, Capitano, Dottore, Pantalone, Tartaglia

It was a complete and utter accident; just a harmless slip of the tongue. One moment, your beloved was politely introducing you to some of his Fatui subordinates, the other he inadvertently referred to you as “my spouse” in front of others. It would've been a sweet moment of shared laughter, were it not spoken in front of so many people of the Fatui. It’s not like your beloved’s subordinates would start correcting him, he's a Harbinger after all… now how would you navigate this awkward situation? 

✧ The ever-cold and calculating Pierro prevents any mistakes from slipping past him. Yet here he is, standing composed next to you as he gently gestures to you and claims:

“From here on out, my spouse shall reside in the Zapolyarny Palace and I expect all obedience to be directed towards them.” 

You went silent. The servants went silent. Even he went silent. You carefully murmured to him:

“... Pierro, dear. We are not married.” 

Somehow the Jester remained blank, as if the error of his brain eluded him. Or perhaps, he realized it was too late to reprimand his mistake, especially in front of the royal servants of the palace. He simply cleared his throat and nodded woefully: “Indeed, we aren't. My apologies.” 

The hushed murmurs of The Director’s “innocent mistake” spread soundlessly like an inside secret within the Palace's walls. It wasn't news that the Jester adored you, but to witness the typically collected Pierro clear his throat bashfully, while you stood there timidly after correcting his mistake was endearing. 

These rumors, of course, reached the ears of the 3rd of the Fatui Harbingers’ ears, Columbina. Such tales were her delight, a personal pastime, relishing the timid nature of your private relationship with Pierro. She just had to tease you two by reminding him of the incident. Thus, one day, she approached The Jester in his office on an inconspicuous day and asked:

“Oh, cheer up, Director. It's been months since your last mishap. Surely you wouldn't let your composure shatter in front of the one you call beloved so easily?”

“You are correct,” - Pierro replied to the Dove calmly. “It was a mistake. Hence, I amended it and made sure it's no longer an issue.”

That’s when Columbina’s gaze drifted to his hands, where he was not leisurely adjusting his cuffs but subtly displaying an ornament on his ring finger. His engagement ring. If the 3rd Harbinger could open her enigmatic eyes, she would stare absolutely wide-eyed and dumbfounded through her white ribbons. When the hell did he get engaged-?!

“Pierro, dear,” - you suddenly stepped in, that same embarrassed interjection escaping you “Please stop boasting about our engagement. We haven't made it official yet.” 

✧ The poor Fatui soldier under Il Capitano's recruit stood stiffly looking at their Harbinger. Was it dread or the web of discomfort one feels when seeing a couple argue over something entirely beyond their input? Because that's certainly what the current Fatui skirmisher felt when standing between you and Il Capitano. 

“I can't allow this, Capitano,” – you huffed, your head shaking in dismay. “You over-dedicate yourself in battles.” 

“We went over this, my cherished. I have to, it is my duty as the Captain. Not just for the Fatui’s sake, but for your own safety as well!” 

“No, no,” – you clicked your tongue. “Don’t give me that. You know that's not the issue… the issue is that you overwork yourself by beating everyone in a duel and not leaving me anything else to defeat! What am I supposed to do?!”

“But my beloved-!” 

That's how your lover's quarrel underwent, and the Fatui Skirmishers that kept blinking in disbelief, stood helpless as the argument ping-ponged between ‘who gets to defeat more enemies on the battlefield’. Finally, your beloved spoke with an irritated huff at your scolding:

“Well, did you perhaps consider that I do not wish for my spouse to overextend themselves and get recklessly injured over some personal records?”

“Oh, so now you-... What did you just call me?” 

The sudden realization caused a deafening silence between you and Capitano like a blade poised to strike. His pitch-black visage did not help to decipher whether he was grappling with his mistake or masking his shock. You insisted: “Capitano, what did you just call-”

“I did not say anything.” 

“You did, you…Hey-! Don't turn your back on me, come back here!” 

Perhaps The 1st of the Fatui Harbingers does not flee from a challenge like a pathetic coward. However, today was a great chance to use a tactful retreat, to put it softly, all in the hopes of escaping your wrath. How else would he explain his mishaps of calling you his ‘spouse’ so casually? If he confessed that he thought “it sounds so befitting for my one and only” he might as well just reveal every tender plan of a quiet life with you. And he can't have you teasing his affection for a domestic life alongside you. 

For now, fleeing was a wise and honorable choice, especially when you are ready to duel him any moment now.

✧ It was another one of those days in Il Dottore's lab. His fingers tap the surface of the table, chin resting on his palm, while a pen balanced precariously behind his ear. Delegating his final tasks for today, he supervised some final organizational matters in the lab while addressing some lab assistants with his usual air of nonchalant authority.

“Ensure all the surgical sets are properly sanitized and checked in the ultrasonic cleaner. I expect them neatly arranged by day’s end. My spouse prefers the equipment organized this way.”

One of the lab assistants stopped in their tracks, staring at him. 

“And don't inform them how some glassware shattered today. It would be irrelevant for them to worry…”

Mumbling to himself, Dottore only now realized that his lab assistants fell eerily silent, staying motionless as they blinked at him. Humming in confusion, he turned his attention at last, only to realize these unfortunate listeners were not gawing at him, but rather someone behind him.

Lo and behold, you stood there, behind him.

With a hand on your hip, you inquired with deceptive simplicity: “Oh? You have a spouse, dear?”

He pretends he wasn't aware of the conundrum and the absurdity of his slip-up. But even with his eyes covered behind that smooth black mask covering his eyes, you can see the haughty expression on his lips. Thus, he crossed his arms.

“Hm, Perhaps. You could say I do.”

“Then my condolences to your spouse. They must have the patience of a saint.”

The Doctor’s assistant had to repress their little chuckles. The tense atmosphere of the laboratory would always be dismissed with your ease, as you’d knowingly nod to Dottore’s colleagues and allow them to leave you two alone. Not even Dottore’s stern attitude would interfere otherwise, even if he tried to conceal his flustered composure at your mere words: “Well perhaps they are a saint, but also a handful for me to deal with.”

“Well, your hypothetical spouse is telling you it's late already and you should take a break for today.”

Conceding to your playful banter, The harbinger’s shoulders loosened up, a rare smile gracing him as he followed you with a wrapped arm around your shoulder. Your victory is marked by your knowing smile and Dottore would not object or conceal his infatuation by referring to you as his spouse. Even if he denies the marital titles as nothing but superficial formalities, he’d walk with you back to your shared personal quarters mumbling:

“Spouse’s orders it is, then.”

✧ It happened during a busy moment when Pantalone and you were at a tailor shop. After much persuasion that lasted weeks, your beloved succeeded at finally dragging you to a luxurious tailoring workshop, where store attendants welcomed you both and helped take your measurements with utter refinement and class.

You stood still with your arms extended, while the attendants did their swift duty with a measuring tape. In the mirror’s reflection before you, you caught sight of Pantalone standing a few steps away, his hand resting thoughtfully against his chin.

“Perhaps an elegant new blazer, white with golden accents?”

You remained still, looking absent-mindedly at the array of fabrics on display. “Dear, there is no need for every piece of clothing to look like it was made for a soirée. I am perfectly fine with a casual cotton blazer.”

The shop attendant closest to you stepped close with some swatches of fabrics to choose from, offering a polite smile. However, Pantalone had to shake his head and charmingly declare – “Oh, nonsense, my spouse deserves only the highest quality and looks when it comes to tailor-made pieces. Excuse me, may I inspect the catalogs for fabrics?”

With a polite nod, the shop assistant did not question the Harbinger or your baffled expression at the sudden choice of words. She was already moving around: “Most certainly, sir. I am sure you and your partner would love our available options. In fact, we also offer discounts for matching tailored ensembles for betrothed pairs if it's for a wedding or a honeymoon special.”

"Wait, wait… we are not-”

“Ah, wonderful,” Pantalone kept the same polite persona without missing a beat. However, the slight knowing smile did not go unnoticed as he glanced at you. “That will be excellent to keep in mind for the future."

What was promised as a quick visit to the tailor shop turned into Pantalone victoriously dragging you through multiple high-end workshops and analyzing the myriads of ‘honeymoon and wedding’ offers when it came to tailor-made clothes. And you, of course, could only gape at him while he kept that ever-charming grin.

“Pantalone, honey, we are not looking into engagement accessories. We are not married.”

“Oh? We are not?” - He feigned innocence and tilted his head. “Hehe, oops.”

✧ When Tartaglia made his way back with his men to Snezhnaya, the fuzzy white snow provided a stark white contrast to the shedding blood on the ground. Clear ruby red droplets stained the cool white terrain after the Harbinger’s successful expedition. 

“Lord Harbinger Tartaglia,” – a Pyro Agent approached, bowing in recognition. “Our reports are in. The site is clear; all abyssal monstrosities have been eliminated.”

Yet Childe was far from tranquil. The rush of battle was still hot in his blood, his hydro dual blades clutched tightly in his hands. Another mission dispelling any filth at the outskirts of Snezhnaya may be mundane for some Fatui skirmishers, yet for a man like Childe, this was his warm-up. 

“Ha… not bad. We finished much earlier today. And here I suspected this would take a whole day.” 

The Pyro Agent nodded – “Yes, sir, indeed. Judging by estimation, our troop would be back to the city by nightfall.”

“...Hold on, nightfall?” 

Suddenly, Tartaglia froze as if a deep culmination dawned on him. The confirmation from his subordinates did not quell his sudden shock. In mere seconds, all his battle rush and thrill of danger vanished before Tartaglia whipped around and exclaimed loudly to his men: 

“Teucer’s theater performance at school is today! My spouse is gonna kill me!” 

Without further words or thought, the Harbinger literally turned and sprinted as far as the horizon could see, leaving his subordinates baffled. Teucer? Spouse? This young Harbinger was married? 

“What… is he on about? I didn't know our lord Harbinger was married,” - the Pyro Agent mumbled, looking into the distance where the figure of a sprinting young man vanished off comically. An Anemoboxer Vanguard stepped nearby, adjusting his gauntlets. “I am pretty sure he isn't. It could be a family member.”

“Then who is the spouse…?” 

The Fatui colleagues exchanged shrugs before the other remembered – “Ah, could be his partner. Remember, they sometimes come to visit when he's training?”

“Oh, then definitely them.” – the two men stared off in the direction Tartaglia had gone, the bizarre image of their superior, so consumed by his bloodlust moments ago, suddenly halting everything to rush home for some kid’s theater performance. And accidentally calling his sweetheart his spouse would be hard to forget.

“Wanna bet he won't make it in time and his ‘spouse’ would teach him a lesson?” 

[meefy]

Pantalone returns to his beloved in Snezhnaya, and is forced to contemplate his future with you. Angst, heavy 6.6 spoilers, established relationship (no pronouns/gender used for Reader), ambiguous ending. SFW.

It’s always been especially difficult for Pantalone to decompress after work. He knows, intellectually, he has all the time in the world to do so; in theory, anyway. In practice, his centuries of life have given him nothing but more work to do, typically the result of spineless fools, and he spends his waking hours mulling over what needs to be done to pick up the pieces. The world of finance is, he thinks, one as fascinating and complex as that of the human body - systems working in tandem to produce the desired effect. It’s little wonder he forgets to eat or drink or sleep; if it isn’t stress getting to him, it’s sheer hyperfixation.

However, you have a way of making the world around him melt away.

Your voice, giddy like a child on their birthday, no matter the hour or how long you’ve been apart, calling his name as you race to greet him: “Feofan!” Your arms outstretched, ready for a hug and a kiss, relishing the scent of the Snezhnayan winter that clings to his robes. It is such a treat that Pantalone wonders how he survived so long without your presence.

Indeed, he sometimes wonders how he will survive without it when you age and pass on, and he does not.

It is a well-kept secret from you, though not one Pantalone keeps with pride. His name, his past (told in checkered bits that he tries to tone down for your sake; not because he doesn’t think you could take it, but because he doesn’t want that look of horror in your eyes directed at him until the end of your days), his sins - all of it, he has confessed to you, because over time he has dared to trust you. You may be human, with all the flaws they possess, but you are unusually candid and curious and oh, Pantalone feels somedays that fate made you just for him.

Fate, of course, had no such say. Because if it did…well, then Dottore would still be here, still continuously providing him with not just the medical treatment he has over the centuries, but with that magical elixir of sorts that has kept him youthful and plainly alive all this time. Has let him survive to see you wrinkle your nose and chide him for lighting up his third cigarette of the night, Do you want to cough up your lungs one day?, as if he doesn’t have the lungs of another man within his chest, Dottore’s doing.

You’ve traced all those scars that litter his body - at his sternum, his arm, just above his hip, with the gentleness of your fingertip and the kiss of your lips. He’s told you bits and pieces of the truth, never the whole of it; treatment for the bullet that pierced his flesh, that bout of stomach pain he could never shake off, the tests he does not wish to spend his waking hours remembering…

The rest, he has avoided. Somehow. Deflecting, a clever hand at your side and his mouth enveloping yours and fizzling out into your hungry skin. He swears sometimes you own him, body and mind. There is no one else he would give his soul to, the way he has given it to you; to see him stripped bare, physically and figuratively, and to trust that you will always love him until the rest of his days.

And Pantalone is on borrowed time now. 

That fact has planted itself firmly into his brain since his return from Sumeru, alone. You’d begged to come along - you always loved exploring at his side, seeing sights and tasting foods and meeting people you’d have never encountered otherwise - but he’d been unusually firm about you staying behind. A few years, Zandik had told him. Enough time for you both to have a grand Harbinger wedding; enough time to settle into a comfortable married life, perhaps start a family, perhaps…

Perhaps tell you the truth?

Pantalone has mulled it over each night since he arrived back in Snezhnaya, just as he does presently: when you sleep atop his broad and scarred chest whilst he broods. He brought you back souvenirs; some packaged sweets Dottore had recommended, a pendant the same colour as your eyes, and you’d predictably gushed and kissed his cheek and giggled about how his glasses fogged just a touch whenever he blushed (they most certainly did not). You were at ease; you were content, unquestioning about his mission, because you’ve learned sometimes it’s better not to know.

Oh, if only that held true with the matter at hand. Does it? Should it? Pantalone once prided himself on matching the Doctor’s lack of care and morality; on the understanding that all relationships would be based on transaction and mutual goals. Yet you have stripped away that facade and left him scrambling to do the right thing. What a fool you’ve turned him into, but a fool who is so madly in love with you that he cannot bear to tell the truth and cause you pain.

“Feofan?” You stir, suddenly, stretching your arms and rubbing the fatigue from your eyes. Pantalone gazes at the clock across the wall; just past two in the morning, and he has yet to extinguish the lantern at the night table. “What’s wrong? Did you have a bad dream again?”

You’re looking at him now, sleepy but perplexed; ready to put aside your own fatigue for his wellbeing. Archons, he does not deserve the look of rapt adoration and worry in your gaze. How could he even begin to tell you? And how would he begin to unravel the omissions he’s made since he first fell in love with you? 

His stomach stirs unpleasantly, but there’s nothing Dottore could prescribe him that would fix that at present. The antidote is to do what he’s always struggled to do his entire existence: be honest. Be vulnerable. 

Yet no matter how much he loves you, no matter how you glance up at him so confused and concerned, no matter how much the thought of the day coming where he must leave you with no explanation (or a greatly falsified one if that)…

He cannot do it. One more day.

Instead, Pantalone manages to smile and runs a hand down the crown of your head, soothing you back to slumber. “It’s alright,” he murmurs, his palm finding the small of your back beneath the covers and holding you tight; a comfort for you, certainly, but also for him. One he does not deserve. He turns off the lantern and forces himself to settle down at your side, tense though you mercifully seem not to notice. “Come morning, why don’t we get breakfast in Snezhnograd? It’s been so long since we had an outing together there.”

Your answer comes in the form of a quiet hum. You’re asleep before he knows it. 

And Pantalone is still wide awake.

[zerokissingbooth]

yearning for investment

pantalone/gn!merchant!reader, pining, he is down bad, jealous jealous banker, commentary from tartaglia minors / ageless do not follow

He's been staring for the last five minutes.

You were outside your store, talking with a customer, arms crossed and a smile on your face. Despite the chill in the air, you seemed unbothered, breath fogged and curling like dancing currents as snow starts to gather on your hair.

"You know, most people find it rude to stare," an annoying voice calls out from behind Pantalone. The cigarette in his mouth feels like it sours with Tartaglia's arrival, the carriage tilting as he climbs in. "But knowing who you're staring at, I'm sure they'd be flattered if they were aware."

"I thought your mother raised you to keep to yourself," Pantalone mutters, blowing smoke into Tartaglia's face. He smirks as the younger man coughs and waves it away, but the amusement is short lived as your laugh echoes out. His attention snaps back to you, across the snowy road, and something dark and sickly tightens around his heart and in his stomach. He could get you to laugh like that- he's done it countless times, you're not difficult to amuse, so why is he feeling this way?

"Who's that customer?" Pantalone asks himself, wondering about the dynamic between you and him. He's not your type, presumably, short and lithe like an underfed hare. How is this ... common man making you smile like that, making you laugh like that? The emotions are bubbling and festering inside his ribcage as he watches you both join for a hug. "Childe. Do you have a clue as to who that customer is?"

Pantalone regrets asking, as glancing over to the young man shows amusement and a wide, toothy grin. "Well well," he starts, arms crossed as he settles into the carriage. "I guess I should have assumed you'd be the jealous type."

"What- jealous? Me?" Pantalone laughs, ashing his cigarette with a roll of his eyes. "Never in my four hundred years of living have I been jealous. Do I look like a child?"

"I don't know, comrade, you were looking a little lovesick," Tartaglia sings, leaning over to glance out the frosted window. "Ooh, now they're exchanging letters. You may have a competitor!"

"What," he hisses, shoving the other out of the way and crowding the glass. Embarrassment crawls up his neck immediately, realizing that he fell for the bait laid out: you and the customer were simply exchanging packages. Of course. A simple business transaction, even if seeing your hands touch the stranger's makes his blood boil. Hands he's only gotten to brush in passing, and a stranger is allowed to have a full clasp of palm-to-palm with you? No, absolutely not. "You're an immature brat," he reprimands, smacking the back of Tartaglia's head.

Across the road, you and a customer named Jack gaze at the ornate carriage. "Harbinger business?" He asks, crossing his arms and giving you a knowing look. "Or is this personal business?" "I'll have you know it's a simple delivery pick-up," You chastise, heart fluttering in your chest. "Absolutely nothing is going on between the Regrator and I." "I never said there was," Jack sings, grinning wide. "Here, let's see if he's a jealous one or not. I'm going to dust off some snow from your sweater, and you'll tell me if he's pissy when he enters your store. Hm?" "You want to the ire of a harbinger aimed at you? Be my guest," you huff, but the idea of the Regrator fawning and getting jealous over you... there's a certain feeling at the back of your head that itches for it.

He's still laughing, the imbecile. But his attention is now back to you, snow sticking to your wool sweater (the one you refuse to part from, the one he's offered to replace time and time again). You and this stranger are in deep conversation, and when his hand rises to dust snow off your shoulder, there's a moment where he swears his teeth might shatter from tension. Pantalone gazes from the carriage as you (finally) wave the customer away, waiting around until you deem it time to return to your post behind the counter of your store.

"So are we going into the store or are we done here?" Tartaglia asks, interrupting his moment of peace.

"You are staying here while I go in and retrieve my order of goods," Pantalone scolds, wrapping his coat around his shoulders. "The last thing I need is for you to bumble around and break something. Oh, Celestia, the thought of being in the same space publicly with you is nauseating."

"I'm not that bad! I'll have you know I'm quite the charmer; maybe if I went in with you-"

"Perish the thought," he interrupts, opening the carriage door. He knows there is truth to the Eleventh's statement-- it's not uncommon for letters, gifts, and suitors to appear at the Palace in hopes of his hand or a night on the town. But to be ... wing-manned by him is an entirely different scenario, one he'd appreciate not happening to him. "Now excuse me, I have to figure out who that customer was."

"Jealousy isn't pretty on you, Pantalone!" Is the last thing he hears before the carriage door shuts close.