i've written enough for tumblr that i thought i'd compile it into a masterlist. all my fics can be found in the 'anna writes' tag but it makes sense to put everything in one place too hehe. currently writing for infinite blue with some genshin and other fandoms thrown in when inspiration strikes. open to requests but it'll mostly just be me letting my thoughts run wild in my drafts. also posting over on ao3 under the user sailxrmxrcury bc i need to be more active there fjdasklg
hello i really love your writing! if you're taking requests, i've been thinking about the infinite blue boys in a typical office setting with the MC and what that would be like? thank you!!~
this has been sat in my inbox for SO LONG I AM SO SORRY TO THE PERSON WHO REQUESTED THIS SDKFDGS but!! better later than never right??? right?????? anyway now is the perfect time to finally get around to this bc my brain has been so occupied lately playing sympathy kiss so office based otome is right at the forefront of my mind hehe. it's like it was meant to be. ALSO thank u so much!! i don't think too much about what i write after it's been posted so i forget people actually look at it sometimes sksjfkf TY FOR REQUESTING THIS WAS LOVELY TO THINK ABOUT also incredibly funny looking at the last post of me being like 'i want to get back to writing more regularly!!' as if i didn't slink back into the shadows again for four months this was also the first thing i've written since getting my new keyboard which is really taking some getting used to especially with nails dsklfsg still, enjoy office time gamers o7
♡ leo ♡
Leo definitely seems like the type to bring the energy to his office department, especially on a Monday morning when everyone wants nothing more than to have had just one more day to spend at home before work started all over again for another week. He'd be the only one with a spring in his step as he went about his morning, filling his water bottle, getting situated at his desk. Speaking of his desk, Leo's workspace would be the definition or organised chaos. Post-it notes are scattered across the bottom of his monitor, there's a pile of loose sheets covered in haphazard notes scrawled across them, and there are definitely more than a few pens with no ink left strewn across the desk. They also happen to be mixed in with perfectly usable pens so Leo would have to scramble for a pen when someone from another department came to brief him on a project he was working on. Every time, without fail, he is grabbing pens and scribbling on a notepad until he finds one that works enough to make notes clear enough for him to reference later on. You ask each time why he doesn't just go through and throw away the empty pens to which Leo jokingly scoffs about how he finds the right pens first time every time. He does not.
He's very much the epitome of a work best friend. Someone who will text you on the weekend like 'I know we spend every day sat next to each other but can we hang out together pls'. He enjoys your company okay!! You are very fun and he wants you to know that!! Will find himself getting into a bit of trouble for getting distracted talking about weekend plans with you but can you blame him? It's a Friday afternoon and his brain has logged off. Unfortunately for Leo, despite his brain having logged off, his computer is very much logged in so he has to force himself to keep going for that last stretch of hours between him and the weekend. Will whine and complain to you about how Fridays should be half days which, given Leo's usual demeanour at the start of the week, is an amusing shift in tone. Cut to a couple of hours later and Leo is shutting down his computer the second the clock ticks over to 5pm. He'll swing his chair around to face you, staring you down until you finally close everything down to get ready to leave. Think puppy watching and waiting for you to take them on a walk. Sometimes if you have plans for the Friday evening, he'll offer to pick you up on the way to work to save you the drive too. Also because it gives him an excuse for being late like oh no there was just so much traffic leaving their place I definitely did not stop for coffee on the way here not at all!! He absolutely did but don't worry he didn't forget to pick up your favourite order too~
I think Leo would be a really good motivator in the office too. If a day was going particularly bad, or if a really busy period struck he would be the perfect person to help keep your mood in balance. He's very encouraging for you to step away from your desk. Take a break, have a drink, maybe get a little snack to energise yourself. But he doesn't do it to distract you nor does he overstep any boundaries. He will offhandedly comment on how hard you've been working and make a gentle suggestion that a break is needed. He'd also offer to lend a hand if there was anything particularly pressing that was weighing you down. Try and say no. Try it. Never works. Leo's always happy to help because he knows you would do the same for him and have previously done so in the past when he was newer to the job and hadn't quite gotten his bearings yet. He makes the long days pass by quicker. Truly the best person to work with.
♡ milo ♡
Milo is absolutely that one coworker who keeps to himself a lot and develops this really cool and mysterious reputation. No one really knows what he does for work and no one ever asks him either because they're a little too intimidated to talk to him. It's not that he's had any particularly bad run-ins with anyone else in the office but more so that he no one really knows a whole lot about him. Any conversations about his weekend plans or what he did the evening prior are met with the most normal responses someone could muster. He's going grocery shopping, he's visiting family, he stayed in last night to watch tv. No one knows anything about his life outside of work and no one's bumped into him anywhere but in the office. The only reason people don't speculate that he lives there is because they see him drive in and park in the same spot at the same time each morning. Him keeping to himself isn't really an antisocial thing, but more so that he's there to work so would rather just get on with whatever he has to do with minimal distractions. He's an efficient man and doesn't like people stealing his attention away from any sort of deadline.
Then along comes this slight change in the office layout and suddenly your desk has been moved directly next to his. Surprise had left you stunned for a moment when Milo greeted you that first morning before sitting down and getting himself set up for the working day. He still never offered much conversation, just the usual 'good morning' and 'have a good evening' as you both left the office. It wasn't until you both stayed behind a little late one Friday evening to finish some paperwork before the weekend and he'd stricken up a conversation while walking back to your cars. It was mostly small talk, nothing of too much substance, but it was far more than he gave anyone else. If you ask, he simply answers that until the clock hits around 5pm, he's at work. Once he's left the office building, he's just normal Milo again. It's his way of separating work and his personal life. Honestly, his work/life balance is enviable.
Over time, as you grow closer, he'll start to chat more during office hours. Asking what you thought of a recent episode of a show, if you'd seen the news about an upcoming game. And your closeness wouldn't go unnoticed. You'll get coworkers whispering to you on your lunch break asking to share some information since they'd barely seen Milo speak with anyone else so openly before. You'd always politely decline, telling them he never really shared anything special and it was mostly just work related things—a white lie, of course, but what they didn't know didn't hurt them. Milo would appreciate it too, often voicing his complaints about the busybodies in the office not so subtly whispering about him. He didn't care too much about their speculations of him until they started dragging you into it too. Grumpy Milo grumbling into his coffee cup asking why they cared so much anyway. Who cares who he speaks to at work (He cares. But he won't tell you that).
♡ rory ♡
Rory at any given moment in time will take the opportunity to complain about something that has happened in the office that day. Whether it's someone not submitting documents on time or somebody emailing him with any extra set of tasks on top of his already stacked workload, he will be sending you a string of messages to blow off some steam. The first time it'd happened, you were sitting in the break room enjoying your lunch when Rory slumped into the chair next to you and signed so heavily you thought something terrible had happened and he was barely keeping himself together. As it had turned out, a new intern had done something without running it by anyone else first and caused a particularly big problem. One that Rory's manager decided would be his responsibility to resolve before the day's end. As well as meet his own deadlines for the same evening. To say he was stressed was an understatement. So Rory had taken solace in your quiet presence and let out his frustrations. Once he'd gotten it all out of his system, he apologised for the outburst and introduced himself, realising the two of you had never actually spoken before. He then offered to lend a listening ear for your own work annoyances, attentively taking it all in while you spoke. Once your lunch break came to an end, you exchanged contacts with the promise that you could be each other's dedicated work therapist whenever someone or something had pissed you off.
From that point on, you'd receive the odd message here and there throughout the day from Rory with the latest complaint. At first, it was just a way to get the annoyances off your chests but as time went on, conversations started to meander and before long you were becoming closer and closer. You didn't see each other much while working—only ever in passing if you needed to deliver a document to a different department or if there was a meeting you needed to attend. Your texts were your main point of contact with Rory until he suggested you start coordinating your lunch breaks so that you could actually hang out face-to-face rather than via text message. Coworkers would definitely start to speculate how and why these two individuals from completely different departments became friends or if there was something more to the relationship. Especially considering Rory, much like Milo, was more reserved and didn't really show much of an effort to become friends with the people he worked with. He was amicable enough but kept the colleague boundary up like a wall. Except with you, anyway.
I think Rory would want to extend your work friendship beyond office hours and would start wanting to text you later in the evening but is so nervous to come across as being too forward. He likes to act as though he's a very nonchalant person but he really isn't at all. Especially not where you are concerned. So you'd definitely need to be the one to nudge and initiate more of a friendship between you both. It wouldn't take much. All you'd need to do was text him one Saturday morning and mention how you were planning for a bookshop trip and as if he wanted to come along. He texts back almost instantly with a big 'YES' followed immediately by a 'glad you've finally recognised my superior taste in books' purely to save face for how eager he must have seemed. Would come into the office on the Monday with red cheeks once he saw you in the staff car park and try to sound as normal as possible commenting on how he had a good weekend. For his own sanity, just go along with it. He begs.
♡ alexei ♡
Alexei is the new starter who doesn't have a whole lot of office experience under his belt. He's bright eyed and eager to learn on the job but is also somewhat nervous to make mistakes or ask too many questions. It takes him a little while to settle in and feel fully comfortable with his surroundings but once he does, Alexei starts to really flourish. Once he knows you're happy to answer all of his questions and won't scold him for not understanding something straight way, he will come to you with an entire monologue of queries he wants to clarify. Literally rambles this long stream of consciousness before reaching the end of his list and looking at you all expectantly for your response. Listens so intently while he's perched on his desk chair, scribbling down notes as you run through everything he'd asked. Then turns back to his computer screen with a 'thank you' and then doesn't say another word for like two hours. He'll just be typing and clicking away with this intense focus until you have to tap on his shoulder and remind him to take a break from the screen for a few minutes. Will struggle to pull himself away for breaks because once he's in the zone he is IN. He only really likes stepping away from his desk when he has reached a good stopping point and he absolutely hates leaving a task partially finished.
I don't think Alexei would be a super social person at work. It wouldn't be for any particular reason other than the thought didn't really occur to him? He prefers to take his breaks at his desk because his chair is comfortable enough so the only people he really talks to on the regular are the people he works with directly. Being new, he hasn't had much of a reason to visit the other departments nor has he been brought on to any big projects that would have him meeting and working with anyone else around the office. Even after he's been there for a little while, he's reached a point where he feels awkward introducing himself because he's not exactly new anymore but he also doesn't know a lot of names. Whenever there's an office party or holiday event, Alexei will turn and whisper to you asking who that was or to remind him of a name. He could have had a good ten minute conversation with someone who and not had a single clue as to what their name was. It makes for some funny encounters, especially if it's someone not well liked within the office. They'd strike up a conversation just for Alexei to clearly not know who they are. We love to see it.
After Alexei has been working in the office for a few months and has gotten nicely settled in his job, I can see him being really welcoming to a new starter. In the same way you answered all his questions and helped him along with his training, Alexei would do the same for the new person. He might come across a little too excited with how forthcoming he is with explanations or offers to help out with anything they're struggling with but it's clear that he means well. He's just a little enthusiastic!! Would also start to add little decorations on his desk. He doesn't do anything too special, but he might have a tiny figurine of a jellyfish sat under his monitor and would have themed notepads and matching pens to go with them. If he's going to spend most of his day there, he wants it to feel like it's his personal little corner.
♡ brooklyn ♡
Brooklyn is the high ranking manager CEO businessman who is also one of the most likable people around the office. Despite him always being seen in his signature suits and ties with some sort of important document in hand at any given moment, he was genuinely pleased to speak with anyone working there. He has his moments of being the stern business type, particularly when in stressful meetings to discuss the company's performance for the quarter and their targets for the next quarter. Overall, however, he remains a generally calming presence. If you were his assistant, he'd try to alleviate as much of the pressure of the role as he could. He knew he was a painfully busy man and that you had no end of meetings to schedule, companies to contact for collaborations and partnerships. There was never really an end to your workload for which he felt a tad guilty. Anytime you entered his private office, reeling off the schedule for the afternoon or informing him of a visitor who had arrived to meet with him, Brooklyn is offering to make you a cup of tea or coffee no matter how many times you insist that that's your job, not his. He never listens.
I think he'd take a lot of interest in you as a person too, not wanting there to be this distinct barrier of boss and employee. He would much rather you both felt you stood on equal ground. That mindset had gotten him into some mild altercations in meetings when other company executives had made some sort of snide comment regarding your involvement in the discussions. Brooklyn wasn't going to stand for one of his most trusted and hardworking colleagues to be taken for granted. The strained tension never left the boardroom until a few minutes after the meeting ended and Brooklyn stormed out looking angrier than you'd ever seen him. Would be silent as he poured himself a cup of tea and then give you this serious talk about how if that were to ever happen without him around report it to him immediately. His expression was much sterner that you'd experienced from all your time working directly with Brooklyn, but it was evident that it came from a place of respect. And he explained as much as he leaned against his desk, pinching the spot between his brows as if the encounter had given him a headache.
There had never been any repeat instances following that afternoon, though you had overheard some whispers about the incident. Mostly from people surprised to hear that Brooklyn had raised his voice. Anytime you commented on it while presenting him with new paperwork, Brooklyn would adjust his tie awkwardly, face heating at the lack of composure he'd now exposed to the office. He took pride in coming across in a well-presented and calm manner so this one lapse of his self-restraint made him feel a touch embarrassed each time he was reminded of the event; in those moments he seemed less like the important business figure and more like a close friend you could playfully tease in passing moments between the busy hours. It was a comfortable and welcomed dynamic for the both of you.
♡ tobias ♡
Tobias is without a doubt the office socialite. He's always popping his head into the different departments with a request or to catch up after the weekend. He reminds me of someone I work with who is incredibly easy going and is friends with basically everyone in the office. Tobias can have a tendency to cause disruptions in that his voice will carry in an office room and he doesn't really realise how much of a distraction his presence can be sometimes. He doesn't mean to pull people away from anything important! But he also can't really help himself when it's the middle of the week and he's got all kinds of work adjacent stories to be shared. Will perch himself on your desk and start rambling away about something, not really noticing if you were paying him your full attention or not. It's only after he asks you a question and you noncommittally answer with a vague 'yes' that he'll start whining about how you're not listening to him. As much as we'd like to chat, some of us have work to do, Tobias. When you question him about his own work, Tobias will conveniently remember he needs to be somewhere else, dodging the question entirely and scampering away to a different department. There is usually a shaking of heads that follows after Tobias whenever he dashes off somewhere else—it's always from a place of endearing acceptance.
I can see Tobias being involved in the marketing side of a business. Definitely the one to organise big events and staff parties. He needs someone to rein him in though because some of his ideas aren't quite workplace or coworker friendly. He hears office party and thinks hell yeah time to go wild go crazy but no Tobias please the last time that happened you broke multiple office chairs we can't afford to keep replacing them every time. Would enlist you for help too because you're his favourite person to bother at work. Whether you humour him and play along or tell him to, light heartedly, leave you alone, Tobias will find his way to your desk for some quality catchup time. What do you mean it's Monday and you're busy? He needs to tell you about this movie he saw on Saturday that he thinks should be the theme of the next work event. He's also the type to bring food to your desk too. Will sometimes just buy lunch for you and pry your hands away from your keyboard so that he can slide a salad or pot of pasta into your grasp. Tobias takes lunch breaks very seriously. He'll also get treats for people in the office too! Buys little cakes or chocolates just because. This is part of the reason why everyone likes him so much; can't say no to a man who keeps you well fed.
Despite poking fun at Tobias being a bit more lax around the office, I think he genuinely would be full of solid ideas and he does feel pretty passionate about certain aspects of the job too. His work/life balance isn't perfect in that he tends to prioritise life a little more than he should sometimes but there's little harm in it. He's a very good person to be around if you're the type to get a bit too wrapped up in working. Tobias is NOT letting you overwork yourself. Not on his watch!! He's a surprisingly perceptive person and can very easily tell when you're stressed or not getting as much sleep as you should. Will take it upon himself to text you at the weekend to hang out and have a movie night with him. That way he can make sure you're relaxing and not spending your limited time off working your brain. Will steal your phone directly from your hands if you're staring too hard, eyebrows furrowed, and will replace it with a snack and gently remind you that it's the weekend time not work time. He has his uses sometimes.
so. it's been a few months. OOPS. the creative juices have not been flowing lately BUT WE ARE SO BACK. and getting festive!! today we're decorating for christmas with our beloved infinite blue boys. this one won't be full fics but more so thoughts strung together. throwing my brain at my computer screen and seeing what sticks type beat. shoutout to itsu for the art that made me go insane abt the boys and desperate to write smth again. also shoutout to ito for listening to me ramble my thoughts aloud. always a pleasure to brainrot with u. determined to try and get back to regular writing but we shall see how that goes LMAO. for now enjoy christmas decorating gamers WOOOO.
♡ leo ♡
Leo gets SO excited for Christmas time. He loves seeing the neighbourhood lit up with strings of lights and bright displays of festivity. He's not one to hold back either with his own decorations. Leo has built up a rather eclectic collection of decorations and baubles for his Christmas tree, most of them being movie references or themed. Stormtrooper wearing a Santa hat, a resin hanging decoration made to look like a stack of Lord of the Rings books, that sort of thing. He excitedly asks what sort of fun decorations you own or want to get because he wants the tree to match both of your interests. Definitely surprises you with a few that he thinks you'll like, barely able to contain himself. Leo is bad at keeping presents a surprise. He just loves seeing how excited you get!! Very much the embodiment of golden retriever boyfriend. Always. I can see Leo also having some decorations with sentimental value too. Like this one bauble he painted as a kid that's definitely not the prettiest mix of colours, but it brings back memories of childhood and excitedly trying to stay up late to see Santa leaving presents behind. He LOVES good christmas tradition too. Every Christmas Eve he's watching the same movie (probably Home Alone) with an array of snacks laid out to enjoy. He loves getting to share it all with you too as well as starting new traditions for future Christmases together. For example, this year he dumped strips of coloured paper on the floor, put his Christmas playlist on, and declared you were both making paper chains and paper snowflakes to hang around the house with the tinsel already on display. There's no such thing as too many decorations in Leo's world so I hope you're prepared for your home to look like a festive spirit exploded in every room. Bonus note he also owns sets of festive pyjamas specifically for December and will only wear these. If it's not Christmas related he isn't touching it. Also owns slippers made to look like reindeer.
♡ milo ♡
Milo might just be the worst one to decorate for Christmas with. He's never really been overly fussed about buying decorations or a tree and has literally nothing of the sort at home. He hadn't even considered the thought that you might want to indulge a little and spend a day or two putting up lights or finding a tree for your shared living room. When you do mention the idea to him, Milo is somewhat surprised, but will nod along that sure you can get a tree. Will suggest you buy one of those pop-up trees that comes with the ornaments already attached because it's easier and will only take a couple minutes to set up and put into place. It takes a lot of convincing to sway him away from that idea. He doesn't seem to realise that half the fun is spending hours fighting the tangled mess of lights, or finding that one specific ornament you bought a few years ago just to hang front and centre on the tree. Will only agree to it if you promise to buy him an early Christmas present too. Bribery is a wonderful tool for convincing Milo to join in all the traditional couple behaviours and outings. He'll enjoy it once he's there and sees how much you're enjoying yourself, but will make a point to complain about the weather, or that he's getting bored looking at different variations of the same lights. His boredom is easily cured by a request to get food before heading home. Once you're home, he offers to reach all the tallest parts you can't reach, but not before making a smug joke about how you only asked him to help because you wanted the extra pair of hands. At the end of it all, he'll be stood behind you, arms enclosed around you and pulling your back against his chest. Will rest his chin atop your head and admit that yes, he had a lot of fun today and yes he will do it again next year. Offers to take you out again next weekend to go ice skating or put together gingerbread houses. Just as long as you don't make him wear one of those awful Christmas jumpers Leo sent a picture of himself wearing the other day. You don't make any promises.
♡ rory ♡
Ever the hopeless romantic, Rory equally adores and despises this time of year. He loves the romanticism of the festive atmosphere, the twinkling fairy lights, the decadence of the food. He's secretly been craving the chance to share it all with someone else. But he would never admit to it. Which is also the cause for his self-proclaimed hatred of the holiday season. He likes to lament about how so much of it is commercialised and specifically catered to couples wanting an excuse to show off how cute they are. He'll acutely ignore the fact that you came home to him watching one of those cheesy Netflix Christmas rom-coms. The type where a prince gets isekaied into the suburbs of New York and falls in love with generic city woman. Will try to hide his face in the neckline of his sweater while you set down boxes of decorations to dress up the room. Claims he wants no part of it and acts all indifferent to your enthusiasm, though it is blatantly evident on his face that he actually means the exact opposite. So you get to hanging baubles from the tree, singing along to Christmas songs as they chime from the speakers. It's when you notice Rory stand up, eyes flickering from you, to the tree, to the floor, that you ask if he would like to give you a hand. Will say no, but you should move that one ornament a bit higher up. It will look better there. Or maybe add a different coloured one there to brighten up that section. Pass a box of ornaments to him and tell him that if he's going to comment on your decorating then he better just do it himself. Rory acts as though this is some large inconvenience but within minutes he's quietly singing along under his breath, a rosy colour staining his cheeks. Pull out some mistletoe and watch him turn an even brighter red. Do it I dare u. And once the room is sufficiently dressed up for Christmas, Rory will collapse back on the sofa, shyly admitting how much he loved spending the time with you as you burrow into the warmth of his side. Will get a little flustered but tries to play it cool until you tease him about finishing the rom-com you caught him watching earlier. Goes to push you away but immediately pulls you back in. Maybe he can be a little more affectionate than usual today. Maybe.
♡ alexei ♡
Alexei doesn't usually decorate a whole lot around the festive season. It's not for a lack of wanting to, nor does he dislike it at all, but rather he just never felt like he had a reason to before. For him, Christmas always felt like a very family-oriented time of year so after he moved out, the thought simply never occurred to him that he could go out and buy a tree and ornaments, even just for his desk at work. When you pose the idea to him to get your home all decorated up for the season, Alexei's interest is piqued. He will scroll for ideas on how to pick a colour theme and will get really into the colour ratio of the baubles too. He lines the tree with golden fairy lights and makes sure the balance of red and green baubles is even. Makes sure to find tinsel that matches the exact shades as well so it doesn't look mismatched at all. It's really rather cute how focused he'll get over it, eyebrows furrowed and this tiny little crease in his forehead. Stands with a look a pure concentration in the way his eyes are surveying the tree from top to bottom, his finger tapping against his lip while you watch from your spot on the sofa sipping a hot chocolate Alexei made for you. You tried to tell him he doesn't need to take it so seriously with the way he's alternating between different coloured baubles but your voice falls on deaf ears. He'll stand back to admire his handiwork, looking to you for excitable approval. Once he deems it good enough, Alexei will lay down, his head just beneath the tree, and he'll gesture for you to join him. He feels all tired out after a day of decorating and has a distinct urge to nap under the tree like a cat. Will sleepily ramble about how he's been looking forward to spending the holiday with you, how he's excited to try all these new things and start ned traditions with you until eventually his eyes betray him and they blink slower and slower and he's falling asleep in your arms.
♡ brooklyn ♡
Brooklyn's home on Christmas is a sight to behold. The man knows how to decorate no matter what the occasion may be. He always loves to make a day of it too. Expect him to wake you up with a cup of tea, already dressed in a cosy Christmas sweater with his hair unstyled and a little messy. Winter Brooklyn is a delight for the eyes. Especially when he's got a hand-knitted scarf bundled around his neck and matching gloves warming his hands. Drives you to a local Christmas tree farm he always visits on the first weekend of December every year without fail. The owners know him by name at this point and are particularly excited to see he has company this year. His hand is entwined in yours as you wander around, talking and musing together over which tree would fit best. If it's snowing, expect Brooklyn to flick a snow-covered branch at you, a dusting of cold powder freckling your cheeks. Will laugh but lets you throw a snowball at him as payment for the attack. Once you pick out the perfect tree, Brooklyn takes you to a local Christmas market to pick out some new decorations. He has a rather rigorous theme he likes to stick to but wants to add something meaningful to signify the two of you—especially with this being your first Christmas together. He tries not to go too overboard and is only stopped by the sight of a stall offering decadent mugs of hot chocolate. Once you're back home and in the warm, Brooklyn is lighting the fireplace, along with a few festive themed candles, and rolling up his sleeves. It's at this point you see just how serious he is about Christmas decorating. And it certainly pays off because once you're both done, the tree looks like someone opened pinterest, found the most visually pleasing tree and managed to extract it and place it directly in your living room. Brooklyn looks very pleased with himself as you praise his well thought out planning. Ends the day with a surprise gift for you because his family always had a tradition of giving a gift on Christmas tree day and he wants to keep that going with you. Is generally just the embodiment of Christmas rom-com love interest with how perfect he makes the day turn out to be.
♡ tobias ♡
Decorating with Tobias is so unbelievably chaotic. There is no rhyme or reason to the scattering of ornaments all over the floor. Decorations are everywhere except where they are supposed to be. He claims he's got a strategy but you're not so certain. He also doesn't really bother with any particular colour theming and just picks out what he thinks looks cool. Loves to have a range of different shapes and colours for the ornaments. Also buys a string of multicoloured flashing lights to drape around the tree because 'regular white lights are boring'. Tobias doesn't care too much about whether you put up a plastic tree or a real one, that is until he sees Brooklyn post a photo of his own Christmas tree on instagram and suddenly Tobias wants to buy a real tree too and make it look as aesthetically pleasing as possible. So he's dragging you out into the cold to go and buy one. Finds his idea of the perfect tree after a good hour of deliberating over which one looks best. Wants one that's got a good shape to it and has plenty of branches. In doing so, however, he very much overestimates how big his car is and how big his apartment is. Drives home with the top of the tree sticking between the seats it's basically sitting on the passenger seat with you. And then there's getting it into his apartment. It's just a little bit too tall so the top of the tree is bent over a little against the ceiling. Tobias rejects your idea to buy a saw and cut the trunk down because surely you can just trim to top, right? No, Tobias, you cannot. Ends up deciding to bend it so the top is angled down a little since you won't let him take the kitchen scissors to it. You're about to attempt to put the star on top until Tobias stops you, claiming he needs to make some adjustments before it goes up. Runs into the bedroom and returns like five minutes later with the star but now it has a picture of his face taped onto the front. Reaches up to put it on the tree but because it's a little too tall, the star is angled down so it looks like star Tobias is watching over like some cursed angelic watchman. Leo is very unsettled when he comes over to visit.
guess who had a week off work and took it as an opportunity to go wild go crazy over some friends to lovers thoughts. i always forget how hard the trope hits until i think about it for more than five minutes and realise that it is so so good and brainrot worthy. partially inspired by some crumbs in the vf server but also plucked from the depths of my brain. i'm a little rusty with fic writing bc of other projects on the go but here's hoping something decent comes out of it lmao. rory's was a little dialogue heavy but we move. expect some childhood friends to lovers, roommates au and more hehe. enjoy and see u in like three months lmao.
♡ leo ♡
“It really has been way too long, hasn’t it?” Leo said with a shy smile, awkwardly adjusting the cap atop his head. The two of you were eating lunch together after almost two years of not seeing each other. Adulthood meant more distance and less time to find a way back to one another so you both just let things drift as they may. Then, that one fateful afternoon you bumped into one another, got talking, and made plans to see each other the following week. It was like the world had offered you both a second chance at continuing what remained of your friendship and all the feelings that came with it. There was a lot of history, a lot of memories, and a lot of messy emotions left over from your younger years that hadn’t quietened down quite as much as you thought they had. But that was okay. Things with Leo were always easy, his sunshine disposition always making it easy to be around him, no matter how tangled your mind may be.
The day you first met, you were both too young to have a complete grasp on language, yet as you stumbled around the playground together, Leo was all smiles. Friendship followed fast, tirelessly asking to visit that same park playground each week to see the other. And every time without fail, you’d be in your own little bubble with Leo, running and laughing together like time didn’t exist. The world didn’t exist. It was only you and Leo. And as the summer months passed and it grew too cold to play around outside, his parents would drive him to visit. You’d be sat in your childhood bedroom with all kinds of clutter scattered about the floor and Leo would be asking you to show him how a certain toy worked or if you could draw something for him. Your parents would watch on, whispering about how they could easily see what your shared futures had in store. Even then, they could see a special kind of friendship was beginning to blossom.
And they had been right. Leo had remained a precious part of your life for many years following from childhood. Even as teenagers, Leo barely left your side. You were a perfect pair. So much so, that it wasn’t uncommon to come home from running an errand and find him sitting on your sofa as if he lived there too. With the amount of time he spent at your home—and you his—it did feel like it was equal parts his home too. Even if that meant him stealing more than a few snacks each week. But it was as time went on, that your friendship with Leo started to feel like something else. It was like you were more than close friends, but not quite romantically entangled. Leo had never shown any inclination that he was interested in anyone that way, yet your friendship with him was unlike any other friendship you had. You were content with how things were, even if a part of you pondered the what-ifs and could-bes if you dared to tread that water.
As time went on and adulthood approached, it became harder and harder to stay so impossibly close. Life plans pulled you apart and soon, weeks would pass before you’d see Leo again. At first, there were constant streams of texts and phone calls but time, too, chipped away until they were days, weeks, months apart. You tried to convince yourself that this was another part of growing up, that you would see each other again and everything would go back to the way it was. But it never quite felt the same. There would be an almost awkward energy hovering over your shoulder, whispering in your ear how you were no longer as dear to him as you once were. And, eventually, everything just stopped.
“I blame life. Also us for being bad at keeping in touch. But mostly life,” you replied. “I see your choice in fashion hasn’t changed since we were teenagers.” You nodded towards Leo’s cap. If memory served you well, it was the very same hat you’d bought for him one birthday. He’d immediately put it on and proclaimed he would never take it off.
“What can I say? When your favourite person buys you something, it’s hard to part with it.”
“Oh? Your favourite person? What an honour. Do I still hold that title or have I lost my job?” You had an idea of what the answer might be, knowing it might reopen old wounds, but you couldn’t stop the words from tumbling out.
“I’m not sure you could ever lose that one.” Leo looked almost wistful as he spoke, fingers toying with a napkin on the table. He spoke quieter than before, his energy lowering at the admission that he still cared for you as deeply as ever. “I wasn’t lying as a kid when I said you were my favourite. Always.”
You shifted in your seat. “Good. Because you’re my favourite too still.”
His smile grew as he outstretched a hand for you to take—if you wanted. Without hesitation, you let your hand find Leo’s, fitting as perfectly as it always had. And this time around, neither of you planned to let go.
♡ milo ♡
Living with Milo had certainly been one of the more adventurous decisions you’d made. You were in need of a new roommate to fill the newly empty room when Leo had passed you the number to one of his friends in need of a place to stay. He’d invited both you and Milo to coffee one day and that had been that. Contracts were signed, belongings moved in, and you were living with what was essentially a total stranger. Even within the first few months of him being there, you still felt like Milo was a stranger. His work hours and yours seemed to exist on opposite spectrums, meaning you never really got a chance to see him. The weekends were really the only times you were both at home together, but even then, Milo didn’t spend much time at home. He’d either be holed up in his room working on something, or he’d be out and about meeting his friends. He was a strangely busy man who didn’t know how to slow down. But you didn’t really mind all that much. When he was home, he was quiet and he didn’t leave any mess or clutter lying about. In essence, he was the perfect roommate, even if you did hope to grow a little closer to him given that you barely knew more than his name and a few surface level facts about him.
It all started to change one rainy weekend. The weather outside was abysmal. Cold and raining so heavy you could barely see a few feet in front of you from how hard it was pouring down. Even Milo couldn’t go outside in conditions like that. So he stayed home. And, in a change of pace, spent almost the entire day stretched across the sofa, tv quietly switching between shows. You were stood in the kitchen, making yourself a warm drink when Milo let out a disgruntled groan.
“Doing okay over there, Milo?” You called out to him, amused by his almost feline disposition.
“No. Bored.” He sat up, hair slightly mussed from where he’d laid against a cushion. “Any recommendations for shit movies? You know, the ones so bad they’re good?”
Walking over, you planted yourself down on the sofa next to him, reaching to grab the remote. “I saw some trailer last week that looked disgustingly bad. I think it came out yesterday or something. Fair warning, it looked like an actual trainwreck.”
“Perfect. Think I’ve got some popcorn hidden away somewhere.”
That night had sparked a new tradition between you and Milo. Now, every Saturday night the two of you would sit together and watch a terrible movie, spending the entire time laughing and pointing out ridiculous plot holes or poorly written dialogue. Each week you’d alternate between who got to choose, usually opting for something bad, but every now and then you’d discover a hidden gem that left you both holding back tears. It was fun to have something to look forward to every week, and the friendship that developed with Milo was like the cherry on top of an already ornate cake. And sometimes long after the movie had ended, you’d both be sat there together, sharing a blanket and replenishing cups of tea, talking long into the night. It would get to the very early hours of Sunday morning and you’d be struggling to hold back a yawn when Milo laughed and instructed you off to bed like a child scolded by their parent. Some nights when you were feeling more obstinate, Milo would come and lift you, carrying you off to your room where he’d unceremoniously toss you onto your bed and leave, calling a ‘good night’ as he made for his own room.
Somewhere along the way, as the longing for friendship faded as you grew closer with Milo, a new sense of longing decided to make itself known. You weren’t able to exactly pinpoint when those feelings became less platonic and tinged with something else, but all you knew was that it didn’t exactly bode well when you lived under the same roof as him. The options were to either ignore and pretend all was as normal, or you could pose the question and be a little more honest with him. Neither felt like the right decision. But one night, as Milo was turning the lights down for the night’s movie of choice, one you’d both agreed upon together, and he handed you the bowl of popcorn and got to making your favourite drink, all without needing to ask, you knew you were deep in it. Fearing your own sense of self, you edged further away from Milo’s spot and distracted yourself by looking at your phone.
“Nope. Not getting away with that one.” Milo’s voice came from behind you, pulling your phone from your grasp. There was a strict ‘no phones’ rule during movie nights that you were suddenly regretting agreeing to. Milo sat himself down, pulling a blanket over his legs when he noticed that you were further away from usual. The man was far too perceptive for his own good. And so he leaned over, sliding an arm around you and pulling you back closer to him.
“What are you doing?” You asked, unsure exactly where to look with him so close.
“Getting comfortable. I recommend you do the same.” Milo didn’t say anything further on the matter, though you noted the arm that had pulled you closer was now draped over your shoulders. This was new. But you liked it. And, as it seemed, Milo did too.
♡ rory ♡
“Did you want to go find somewhere to eat soon?” It was late afternoon and you had spent the best part of the day with Rory after a surprise text from him. He usually wasn’t the type to instigate last minute plans, enjoying his time off whenever he could get it. But he’d clearly had a change of heart when he texted about a new book release he was wanting to go and look for, inviting you along in the process to hang out for the day. He’d been as evasive as ever when you questioned the change of heart when it came to making plans, instead offering an iced coffee and croissant he’d bought shortly before you arrived. He claimed he was just ‘feeling generous’ but you knew Rory secretly liked to surprise people with gifts—even if they were in the form of a snack.
“You’ve truly mastered the art of subtlety, haven’t you?” His voice was pure sarcasm as he crossed his arms, staring you down with an unamused expression. “But yes, food is good. That place Tobias kept going on about is just round the corner, right?”
You nodded, flicking through the group chat to find exactly where Tobias had recommended after Rory sent a photo of you to show you were both hanging out. It was a fairly small place, one he’d found on one of his ‘Tobias ventures’ where he let his nose and stomach take him to wherever smelt the best place. So far he hadn’t disappointed with his choices. “Yeah, looks like it’s a left past here and then should be on the right.”
“Don’t tell him it was my idea to listen to him. I still haven’t lived it down after the last time.”
“Sure. Your secret is safe with me,” you replied, fully intending on passing the message along to the group chat. “Now come on, I’m hungry.” You reached for Rory’s hand to make your way for the restaurant, happily ready to stroll along when Rory’s unmoving rigidness made you stop in your tracks. “Helloooo? Earth to Rory. We’re going to that restaurant now, right?” You turned in confusion, trying to see what was holding him up.
Rory cleared his throat before he answered, his cheeks having turned a slight reddish pink. “Right. But, uh, what are you doing?”
“What do you mean ‘what am I doing?’ I’m just…going. Like we said.” Rory shifted on his feet. You waited a moment for him to speak, but he didn’t seem to be particularly forthcoming with his words just yet. Eyes scanning his body for any noticeable difference, your gaze landed on where your hand still held his, sparking a lightbulb to flash in your brain. “Oh? Are you blushing because I held your hand? How cute.”
His eyes widened for a split second. He had turned almost skittish in mere moments. “Yeah, sure, whatever. But why are you holding it, dumbass?” The surprise of it all wore off quickly, one of his favourite nicknames for you rolling off the tongue with apparent ease. Or he was just trying to hide how flustered he’d gotten. Or both.
“Because we are walking to the same place? And it’s busy so I’d rather not lose you in the crowd. What’s got you so worked up anyway, hm? Been that long since someone held your hand?” You couldn’t help but tease, especially after catching him looking a little too longingly at the romance section in the bookshop you’d visited earlier. It was pretty sweet how much of a hopeless romantic he was, despite his best efforts to hide it.
Rory scoffed, the blush now having spread all over his cheeks and to the tips of his ears. He really was easy to get worked up. He looked away, voice mumbling as he spoke,” No. But other people holding my hand isn’t quite the same as you holding it.”
You froze, not sure if you’d heard him correctly. He’d said it so quietly and there were a lot of people around so it was an easy mistake to make. But what if your ears hadn’t misheard? “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Nothing. Let’s just go before my stomach starts shouting for food.” He tried to set off, hand still in yours, but you weren’t letting him run away so easily. Not when he was so clearly deflecting. You wanted to say something, though the words didn’t seem to want to come out.
Rory sighed, his hand in yours fidgeting a little but ultimately holding a tiny bit tighter. “This isn’t a conversation to have in public. Or a busy restaurant. Putting a pin in it then we can talk later.”
“And I’m taking the pin right out. Rory, we’re best friends. You can tell me anything. If not here then we just go home and talk.”
“What if us being best friends is the issue?”
Your brows furrowed. What on earth was the man talking about? “You want us to stop being friends? I’m really not following here, Rory.”
“No, it’s not that. Just…I don’t know how to say it without saying it.”
“That does not help me.”
“I know.” He exhaled. “I’m sorry I’m being awkward about this. I hadn’t exactly planned for this conversation but, do you ever think about us as something other than friends?”
“You mean…”
“Yeah. I do.” Rory’s hand felt somehow even warmer in yours. There was something akin to worry in his eyes, as though you might suddenly pull away and never speak to him again. You couldn’t fathom the idea.
You smiled, one that you hoped might reassure him and quell his concerns. “It’s a nice thought. Really nice. One we can dwell on over dinner?”
♡ alexei ♡
The summer heat was unrelenting as you taped up another cardboard box in the bedroom of Alexei’s apartment. He was moving to a different part of the city and had called in a favour to help with packing his things up one weekend. He had, in turn, managed to pick one of the warmest days to prepare for moving, a decision you had were already planning to get him back for. But, in spite of the heat crawling over your skin, it was nice to spend the time with Alexei. With how busy the both of you were, finding time where your schedules aligned proved to be a little more than difficult. But fate had been kind and given you both a weekend to see each other and reminisce on all the memories stored in every corner of Alexei’s home. There were photos and mementos of trips from over the years, little snapshots of times you’d somehow forgotten. It was easy to forget there was ever a time before the two of you became friends, the years having disappeared in what felt like no time at all.
You were holding a fridge magnet that Alexei had bought on a trip to the beach one summer. It was a roundish pinkish-orange shell, with two small chips at the edge from where it had been knocked off his fridge more times than you could count. He’d chosen to move it into his bedroom after he knocked off the shell magnet along with another and the other had not survived the fall. There were so many little stories scattered around the apartment. It felt sad to be saying goodbye to them, even if you knew there plenty more ahead in his new place. Not to mention the items were all going with him. Still, there were years of laughter and love painted into the pale walls that could never be retrieved nor relived again.
“Feeling sentimental over there?” Alexei’s voice sounded from the doorway, an empty cardboard box in his hands. He placed it down by a pile of clothes he had been sorting before coming to sit beside you, his usual gentle smile adorning his face.
“A little. It’s nice to see all this stuff again. I forgot about way too much of it.”
Alexei hummed, reaching for a photo of the two of you sharing a large bag of popcorn. You’d both been excited over the movie’s trailer and had expected it to sell out, only to get there and be the only two people in the screening. No other trip to the cinema had been quite the same as getting to laugh and react as loudly as you wanted together in front of the giant screen. Alexei had tried to toss popcorn kernels into his mouth and failed miserably most times. Then, as the credits were rolling, you took a commemorative photo to remember the one and only time you got so lucky at a movie showing.
“If you really want to go down memory lane, you should have a look at this,” he said, reaching over for a dark blue book. It had nothing on the cover to indicate what might have been inside, but he handed it to you, beaming.
“What’s this?”
“Just open it. Nothing’s going to jump out at you.” You weren’t sure if you should trust that comment. But, in spite of that, you opened the cover to see a myriad of tickets and receipts. It was a scrapbook from all the events, outings, and days you’d spent with Alexei. There was a rain-damaged handout from when you’d visited a local petting zoo; there was a little ticket from the time you beat Alexei at a mini golf course; there was token he’d accidentally pocketed from an arcade and forgotten to give back. Alexei had felt extra guilty about that one. It was filled with fragments of your friendship, a storyboard of your life together laid out on the pages.
Then you turned the page once more to see a single flower, preserved from being pressed between the pages. Around it were all kinds of Alexei-style notes detailing the exact species of flower with all kinds of facts about it. There was also a little paragraph in the top corner, explaining why this particular flower was his favourite. Because you had picked it and presented it to him as a little gift one day while you were out on a picnic. And you had been smiling. Your smile was his favourite, so that meant the flower was now his favourite because it had been infused with the image of your smile. It had little monetary value, nor did you ever expect him to keep it. You’d thought he would have just left it in the grass or tried to replant it so it didn’t die, not dedicate an entire two-page spread to commemorate this one small yellow wildflower. When you looked up, Alexei’s cheeks were a bright pink.
“I forgot that page was there…” His voice trailed off, eyes averting away from where you looked at him.
“Seems we’re both getting nice little reminders of the past, aren’t we?”
Alexei nodded, the movement awkward and stiff. “I’ll, uh, go back to sorting those clothes—” He tried to get up and away, only to be pulled back down by you reaching for the hem of his jumper.
“No running away from this one,” you teased, throwing yourself at him to wrap your arms around his neck in a tight hug. “This is really sweet. I love you. A lot.”
“Love? As in…”
“Yes, you idiot.”
♡ brooklyn ♡
Rain gently pattered against the window of Brooklyn’s home, the view of the city obscured by water droplets. It was the perfect accompanying backdrop to the sound of pianos and violins coming from the two speakers either side of his television. The air had a slight chill to it, the rain having sapped all warmth out of the atmosphere. Brooklyn had been quick to procure a blanket to drape over both of your legs and brew a pot of tea to share while silently reading together. Since befriending Brooklyn, it had become common practice to spend time at either his home or yours, reading something the other had recommended or simply enjoying some quiet time in one another’s presence. You’d met some months ago thanks to a mutual friend introducing you both and, after realising you were neighbours, a close friendship had blossomed and bloomed into what it was today. That same friend who’d introduced you would often ask after Brooklyn, sometimes hinting at something other than friendship between the both of you. There was always a flustered awkwardness in your denials and adamance that there was nothing of the sort going on between you and him. Brooklyn was not the easiest character to read, his warm smiles and gentle movements barely an indication of any secret feelings of devotion he might be keeping close to his chest. Even now, with a shared blanket covering your legs and his, knees lightly touching, you couldn’t quite tell if he’d orchestrated the closeness merely for warmth or for any other reason.
Either way, the proximity felt far more intimate than it usually did. It was comfortable. So comfortable, in fact, that you could feel your eyelids growing heavier and heavier by the second. You didn’t want to fall asleep, especially not so close to Brooklyn, but your control over your consciousness was gradually waning thin.
“Is my company really that tiresome? Or was it the book? Although I do believe I was the one to give it to you,” Brooklyn teased, his thumb playing with the corner of the page of his own book.
A gentle wave of guilt fluttered in your stomach as you sat up a little straighter. “Not at all. I blame the tea.”
He chuckled, turning his attention back to his book. “If you need to rest, then please, be my guest.” As if there were some magical power in his words, the drowsiness in your eyes rooted itself even deeper and before you knew it, you had drifted off into sleep. What you did not know, however, was that your head had found itself resting on Brooklyn’s shoulder, having gravitated toward the nearest warm spot. Brooklyn was hardly shocked at the sight of you sleeping, but that still didn’t stop his cheeks from warming in turn. He waited there for a moment, hesitating to see if you would gain consciousness again before he moved. But after no sign of waking, he carefully slotted a bookmark between the book’s pages so as not to jostle you too much. His hand gently pressed to your cheek, lifting your head from his shoulder so he could stand and help lay down your sleeping body, moving your legs so that you were completely sprawled out across his sofa. He adjusted the blanket to cover you entirely and stood, watching for a short moment with an absentminded smile on his face. He did not mind at all that you had fallen asleep, only pleased that you felt comfortable enough in his presence to let yourself rest so deeply.
Brooklyn ran the back of his fingers softly across your cheek and leaned to press a featherlight kiss to your temple, not wanting to disturb you yet feeling compelled over the gentle gesture. As he pulled away to sit himself on another armchair, Brooklyn’s eyes widened as he felt a grasp clutch at his wrist and lazily pull at his arm. He tried to pry your fingers from his wrist but had no such luck.
“Naptime for you too,” you mumbled sleepily, barely awake with your eyes still closed. Brooklyn was torn with indecision. A part of him thought this was a bad idea—that it would be too much for his heart to bear once the moment ended. But another, much larger part of him, was tempted beyond all desire. He wanted to; he really did. So he let himself give in. He slid beneath the blanket and let his arm fall atop your waist. Brooklyn barely breathed being so close to you. It wasn’t until he felt you nestling your face into the crook of his neck that he finally let his resolve shatter. He could figure out his feelings and what this all meant later on. He would happily wait for another day to share the feelings that simmered so deep in his stomach every time his gaze landed on you. All that mattered in this moment, was how your legs were tangled together beneath the blanket, and how your fingers sleepily clutched at his shirt. For Brooklyn, this was more than enough as sleep slowly found him.
♡ tobias ♡
Some weeks had passed since the last time you saw Tobias. With his job, travelling was no rare occurrence. He’d been on a plane to the other side of the country one day and then flying somewhere else a few days later. It was a lifestyle he loved, getting to travel all over while getting paid. What wasn’t to love? The main downside being away from home so much meant being away from you, a longtime friend and supporter of Tobias as he started out on his less conventional career path. Yours was a friendship he treasured, frequently sending updates and blurry, zoomed in photos of his face so you didn’t forget what he looked like after a couple of weeks away. He left sleepy voice notes telling you he missed you, drowsily recounting his day’s events before his voice trailed off and the voice note came to an end as he passed out in his hotel room. He’d often find little gifts or souvenirs that reminded him of you, wrapping them all messily in tissue paper and keeping them in a box labelled with your name so he didn’t lose them or forget to give them to you once he returned. Tobias would ignore your protests that you didn’t need any gifts, enjoying your embarrassed smile every time you opened one up to see a painfully touristy t-shirt or funny little keychain.
“It’s basically tradition at this point,” he’d argue, folding his arms and turning his nose away. He wasn’t hearing any of your excuses. But it was all in good fun, quickly reaching for another ridiculous gift he’d found and tossing it your way. It really had become a tradition at this point. A rather sweet one, too.
Tobias had been away from home for almost two months now. It was one of the longest trips away he’d ever had and despite his frequent updates, you could still feel the long stretch of time as acute as ever. You didn’t let on just how much you missed him, knowing he’d only tease you about how you could barely survive without him, or that he was just that amazing of a person. He’d no doubt try and laugh off that you must harbour secret feelings for him. Although not entirely untrue, you weren’t going to tempt fate by letting him pose that question, even as a joke. It didn’t hit exactly how much you missed his amusing playfulness until you were driving to the airport to pick him up, anticipation bubbling and fizzing in your chest. Your fingertips tingled as you clutched the steering wheel, barely able to focus on much else other than getting there as fast as the road would allow you. His flight was due to land in about thirty minutes and you wanted to be there ready and waiting with his favourite starbucks order in hand.
Standing in the arrivals lounge felt agonisingly long. Watching waves of people come through and none of them being Tobias felt like tiny needles pinching at your heart. You were checking your phone every few seconds, waiting and watching for an ‘I’m home!’ text that he’d usually send. Nothing. Pocketing it again, you looked up to see the next group of people coming through, all unfamiliar faces. Exhaling a deep breath, you shifted on your feet when a pair of airs wrapped around you from behind. A small squeal of shock came from you, loud laughter erupting from the person who had assailed you. A laugh you could recognise anywhere.
“Tobias Fox, you are paying for parking for near giving me a heart attack.” Your heart was racing, almost pounding out of your chest as you turned to Tobias, gently shoving him away from you. “And I’m keeping this drink now. No presents for you.”
He tried, and failed, to quell his laughter. “Aww, come on, don’t be mean. It’s been two months and I just got off a really long flight so shouldn’t you be extra nice to me?”
“No.”
Tobias poked your forehead. “Boring. If I ask nicely, do I get an actual ‘welcome back’ hug?”
“Maybe.” Before you could even finish uttering out the word, Tobias’ arms engulfed you again, holding you close as onlookers smiled to themselves. His hold was warm and all-encompassing, the two of you barely moving as if time had frozen. His cheek felt hot pressed against yours, his breath tickling the tip of your ear.
“I missed you,” he whispered. “A lot.” It was rare for Tobias to sound so sincere. Sure, he’d tell you he missed you on the numerous calls while he was away, but it always sounded so amicable and reflexive rather than a genuine admission of longing.
“Yeah? Or did you just miss raiding my fridge?”
He chuckled, the sound sending a tingle down your spine with how close he was to your ear. “Mm, that too. But mostly you. We’re a team, aren’t we?” Tobias leaned away, arms moving to take your hands in his. He waited for a moment, eyes taking in the view of your face before he picked up his suitcase and called for you to lead the way out. His left hand, still entwined with yours, tugged a little, throwing you off balance. He didn’t let you fall though, letting his lips catch your cheek as he grinned and continued on as if nothing had happened. This was new. Something about the way his fingers clasped yours and the buzzing tension in every step you both took. The lines between friendship and something else had blurred beyond comprehension. But it was a comfortable space to be in, liminal as it may be. You had Tobias back now, for at least a week or two, and there was so much more that could happen in such a short space of time.
guess who had a week off work and took it as an opportunity to go wild go crazy over some friends to lovers thoughts. i always forget how hard the trope hits until i think about it for more than five minutes and realise that it is so so good and brainrot worthy. partially inspired by some crumbs in the vf server but also plucked from the depths of my brain. i'm a little rusty with fic writing bc of other projects on the go but here's hoping something decent comes out of it lmao. rory's was a little dialogue heavy but we move. expect some childhood friends to lovers, roommates au and more hehe. enjoy and see u in like three months lmao.
♡ leo ♡
“It really has been way too long, hasn’t it?” Leo said with a shy smile, awkwardly adjusting the cap atop his head. The two of you were eating lunch together after almost two years of not seeing each other. Adulthood meant more distance and less time to find a way back to one another so you both just let things drift as they may. Then, that one fateful afternoon you bumped into one another, got talking, and made plans to see each other the following week. It was like the world had offered you both a second chance at continuing what remained of your friendship and all the feelings that came with it. There was a lot of history, a lot of memories, and a lot of messy emotions left over from your younger years that hadn’t quietened down quite as much as you thought they had. But that was okay. Things with Leo were always easy, his sunshine disposition always making it easy to be around him, no matter how tangled your mind may be.
The day you first met, you were both too young to have a complete grasp on language, yet as you stumbled around the playground together, Leo was all smiles. Friendship followed fast, tirelessly asking to visit that same park playground each week to see the other. And every time without fail, you’d be in your own little bubble with Leo, running and laughing together like time didn’t exist. The world didn’t exist. It was only you and Leo. And as the summer months passed and it grew too cold to play around outside, his parents would drive him to visit. You’d be sat in your childhood bedroom with all kinds of clutter scattered about the floor and Leo would be asking you to show him how a certain toy worked or if you could draw something for him. Your parents would watch on, whispering about how they could easily see what your shared futures had in store. Even then, they could see a special kind of friendship was beginning to blossom.
And they had been right. Leo had remained a precious part of your life for many years following from childhood. Even as teenagers, Leo barely left your side. You were a perfect pair. So much so, that it wasn’t uncommon to come home from running an errand and find him sitting on your sofa as if he lived there too. With the amount of time he spent at your home—and you his—it did feel like it was equal parts his home too. Even if that meant him stealing more than a few snacks each week. But it was as time went on, that your friendship with Leo started to feel like something else. It was like you were more than close friends, but not quite romantically entangled. Leo had never shown any inclination that he was interested in anyone that way, yet your friendship with him was unlike any other friendship you had. You were content with how things were, even if a part of you pondered the what-ifs and could-bes if you dared to tread that water.
As time went on and adulthood approached, it became harder and harder to stay so impossibly close. Life plans pulled you apart and soon, weeks would pass before you’d see Leo again. At first, there were constant streams of texts and phone calls but time, too, chipped away until they were days, weeks, months apart. You tried to convince yourself that this was another part of growing up, that you would see each other again and everything would go back to the way it was. But it never quite felt the same. There would be an almost awkward energy hovering over your shoulder, whispering in your ear how you were no longer as dear to him as you once were. And, eventually, everything just stopped.
“I blame life. Also us for being bad at keeping in touch. But mostly life,” you replied. “I see your choice in fashion hasn’t changed since we were teenagers.” You nodded towards Leo’s cap. If memory served you well, it was the very same hat you’d bought for him one birthday. He’d immediately put it on and proclaimed he would never take it off.
“What can I say? When your favourite person buys you something, it’s hard to part with it.”
“Oh? Your favourite person? What an honour. Do I still hold that title or have I lost my job?” You had an idea of what the answer might be, knowing it might reopen old wounds, but you couldn’t stop the words from tumbling out.
“I’m not sure you could ever lose that one.” Leo looked almost wistful as he spoke, fingers toying with a napkin on the table. He spoke quieter than before, his energy lowering at the admission that he still cared for you as deeply as ever. “I wasn’t lying as a kid when I said you were my favourite. Always.”
You shifted in your seat. “Good. Because you’re my favourite too still.”
His smile grew as he outstretched a hand for you to take—if you wanted. Without hesitation, you let your hand find Leo’s, fitting as perfectly as it always had. And this time around, neither of you planned to let go.
♡ milo ♡
Living with Milo had certainly been one of the more adventurous decisions you’d made. You were in need of a new roommate to fill the newly empty room when Leo had passed you the number to one of his friends in need of a place to stay. He’d invited both you and Milo to coffee one day and that had been that. Contracts were signed, belongings moved in, and you were living with what was essentially a total stranger. Even within the first few months of him being there, you still felt like Milo was a stranger. His work hours and yours seemed to exist on opposite spectrums, meaning you never really got a chance to see him. The weekends were really the only times you were both at home together, but even then, Milo didn’t spend much time at home. He’d either be holed up in his room working on something, or he’d be out and about meeting his friends. He was a strangely busy man who didn’t know how to slow down. But you didn’t really mind all that much. When he was home, he was quiet and he didn’t leave any mess or clutter lying about. In essence, he was the perfect roommate, even if you did hope to grow a little closer to him given that you barely knew more than his name and a few surface level facts about him.
It all started to change one rainy weekend. The weather outside was abysmal. Cold and raining so heavy you could barely see a few feet in front of you from how hard it was pouring down. Even Milo couldn’t go outside in conditions like that. So he stayed home. And, in a change of pace, spent almost the entire day stretched across the sofa, tv quietly switching between shows. You were stood in the kitchen, making yourself a warm drink when Milo let out a disgruntled groan.
“Doing okay over there, Milo?” You called out to him, amused by his almost feline disposition.
“No. Bored.” He sat up, hair slightly mussed from where he’d laid against a cushion. “Any recommendations for shit movies? You know, the ones so bad they’re good?”
Walking over, you planted yourself down on the sofa next to him, reaching to grab the remote. “I saw some trailer last week that looked disgustingly bad. I think it came out yesterday or something. Fair warning, it looked like an actual trainwreck.”
“Perfect. Think I’ve got some popcorn hidden away somewhere.”
That night had sparked a new tradition between you and Milo. Now, every Saturday night the two of you would sit together and watch a terrible movie, spending the entire time laughing and pointing out ridiculous plot holes or poorly written dialogue. Each week you’d alternate between who got to choose, usually opting for something bad, but every now and then you’d discover a hidden gem that left you both holding back tears. It was fun to have something to look forward to every week, and the friendship that developed with Milo was like the cherry on top of an already ornate cake. And sometimes long after the movie had ended, you’d both be sat there together, sharing a blanket and replenishing cups of tea, talking long into the night. It would get to the very early hours of Sunday morning and you’d be struggling to hold back a yawn when Milo laughed and instructed you off to bed like a child scolded by their parent. Some nights when you were feeling more obstinate, Milo would come and lift you, carrying you off to your room where he’d unceremoniously toss you onto your bed and leave, calling a ‘good night’ as he made for his own room.
Somewhere along the way, as the longing for friendship faded as you grew closer with Milo, a new sense of longing decided to make itself known. You weren’t able to exactly pinpoint when those feelings became less platonic and tinged with something else, but all you knew was that it didn’t exactly bode well when you lived under the same roof as him. The options were to either ignore and pretend all was as normal, or you could pose the question and be a little more honest with him. Neither felt like the right decision. But one night, as Milo was turning the lights down for the night’s movie of choice, one you’d both agreed upon together, and he handed you the bowl of popcorn and got to making your favourite drink, all without needing to ask, you knew you were deep in it. Fearing your own sense of self, you edged further away from Milo’s spot and distracted yourself by looking at your phone.
“Nope. Not getting away with that one.” Milo’s voice came from behind you, pulling your phone from your grasp. There was a strict ‘no phones’ rule during movie nights that you were suddenly regretting agreeing to. Milo sat himself down, pulling a blanket over his legs when he noticed that you were further away from usual. The man was far too perceptive for his own good. And so he leaned over, sliding an arm around you and pulling you back closer to him.
“What are you doing?” You asked, unsure exactly where to look with him so close.
“Getting comfortable. I recommend you do the same.” Milo didn’t say anything further on the matter, though you noted the arm that had pulled you closer was now draped over your shoulders. This was new. But you liked it. And, as it seemed, Milo did too.
♡ rory ♡
“Did you want to go find somewhere to eat soon?” It was late afternoon and you had spent the best part of the day with Rory after a surprise text from him. He usually wasn’t the type to instigate last minute plans, enjoying his time off whenever he could get it. But he’d clearly had a change of heart when he texted about a new book release he was wanting to go and look for, inviting you along in the process to hang out for the day. He’d been as evasive as ever when you questioned the change of heart when it came to making plans, instead offering an iced coffee and croissant he’d bought shortly before you arrived. He claimed he was just ‘feeling generous’ but you knew Rory secretly liked to surprise people with gifts—even if they were in the form of a snack.
“You’ve truly mastered the art of subtlety, haven’t you?” His voice was pure sarcasm as he crossed his arms, staring you down with an unamused expression. “But yes, food is good. That place Tobias kept going on about is just round the corner, right?”
You nodded, flicking through the group chat to find exactly where Tobias had recommended after Rory sent a photo of you to show you were both hanging out. It was a fairly small place, one he’d found on one of his ‘Tobias ventures’ where he let his nose and stomach take him to wherever smelt the best place. So far he hadn’t disappointed with his choices. “Yeah, looks like it’s a left past here and then should be on the right.”
“Don’t tell him it was my idea to listen to him. I still haven’t lived it down after the last time.”
“Sure. Your secret is safe with me,” you replied, fully intending on passing the message along to the group chat. “Now come on, I’m hungry.” You reached for Rory’s hand to make your way for the restaurant, happily ready to stroll along when Rory’s unmoving rigidness made you stop in your tracks. “Helloooo? Earth to Rory. We’re going to that restaurant now, right?” You turned in confusion, trying to see what was holding him up.
Rory cleared his throat before he answered, his cheeks having turned a slight reddish pink. “Right. But, uh, what are you doing?”
“What do you mean ‘what am I doing?’ I’m just…going. Like we said.” Rory shifted on his feet. You waited a moment for him to speak, but he didn’t seem to be particularly forthcoming with his words just yet. Eyes scanning his body for any noticeable difference, your gaze landed on where your hand still held his, sparking a lightbulb to flash in your brain. “Oh? Are you blushing because I held your hand? How cute.”
His eyes widened for a split second. He had turned almost skittish in mere moments. “Yeah, sure, whatever. But why are you holding it, dumbass?” The surprise of it all wore off quickly, one of his favourite nicknames for you rolling off the tongue with apparent ease. Or he was just trying to hide how flustered he’d gotten. Or both.
“Because we are walking to the same place? And it’s busy so I’d rather not lose you in the crowd. What’s got you so worked up anyway, hm? Been that long since someone held your hand?” You couldn’t help but tease, especially after catching him looking a little too longingly at the romance section in the bookshop you’d visited earlier. It was pretty sweet how much of a hopeless romantic he was, despite his best efforts to hide it.
Rory scoffed, the blush now having spread all over his cheeks and to the tips of his ears. He really was easy to get worked up. He looked away, voice mumbling as he spoke,” No. But other people holding my hand isn’t quite the same as you holding it.”
You froze, not sure if you’d heard him correctly. He’d said it so quietly and there were a lot of people around so it was an easy mistake to make. But what if your ears hadn’t misheard? “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Nothing. Let’s just go before my stomach starts shouting for food.” He tried to set off, hand still in yours, but you weren’t letting him run away so easily. Not when he was so clearly deflecting. You wanted to say something, though the words didn’t seem to want to come out.
Rory sighed, his hand in yours fidgeting a little but ultimately holding a tiny bit tighter. “This isn’t a conversation to have in public. Or a busy restaurant. Putting a pin in it then we can talk later.”
“And I’m taking the pin right out. Rory, we’re best friends. You can tell me anything. If not here then we just go home and talk.”
“What if us being best friends is the issue?”
Your brows furrowed. What on earth was the man talking about? “You want us to stop being friends? I’m really not following here, Rory.”
“No, it’s not that. Just…I don’t know how to say it without saying it.”
“That does not help me.”
“I know.” He exhaled. “I’m sorry I’m being awkward about this. I hadn’t exactly planned for this conversation but, do you ever think about us as something other than friends?”
“You mean…”
“Yeah. I do.” Rory’s hand felt somehow even warmer in yours. There was something akin to worry in his eyes, as though you might suddenly pull away and never speak to him again. You couldn’t fathom the idea.
You smiled, one that you hoped might reassure him and quell his concerns. “It’s a nice thought. Really nice. One we can dwell on over dinner?”
♡ alexei ♡
The summer heat was unrelenting as you taped up another cardboard box in the bedroom of Alexei’s apartment. He was moving to a different part of the city and had called in a favour to help with packing his things up one weekend. He had, in turn, managed to pick one of the warmest days to prepare for moving, a decision you had were already planning to get him back for. But, in spite of the heat crawling over your skin, it was nice to spend the time with Alexei. With how busy the both of you were, finding time where your schedules aligned proved to be a little more than difficult. But fate had been kind and given you both a weekend to see each other and reminisce on all the memories stored in every corner of Alexei’s home. There were photos and mementos of trips from over the years, little snapshots of times you’d somehow forgotten. It was easy to forget there was ever a time before the two of you became friends, the years having disappeared in what felt like no time at all.
You were holding a fridge magnet that Alexei had bought on a trip to the beach one summer. It was a roundish pinkish-orange shell, with two small chips at the edge from where it had been knocked off his fridge more times than you could count. He’d chosen to move it into his bedroom after he knocked off the shell magnet along with another and the other had not survived the fall. There were so many little stories scattered around the apartment. It felt sad to be saying goodbye to them, even if you knew there plenty more ahead in his new place. Not to mention the items were all going with him. Still, there were years of laughter and love painted into the pale walls that could never be retrieved nor relived again.
“Feeling sentimental over there?” Alexei’s voice sounded from the doorway, an empty cardboard box in his hands. He placed it down by a pile of clothes he had been sorting before coming to sit beside you, his usual gentle smile adorning his face.
“A little. It’s nice to see all this stuff again. I forgot about way too much of it.”
Alexei hummed, reaching for a photo of the two of you sharing a large bag of popcorn. You’d both been excited over the movie’s trailer and had expected it to sell out, only to get there and be the only two people in the screening. No other trip to the cinema had been quite the same as getting to laugh and react as loudly as you wanted together in front of the giant screen. Alexei had tried to toss popcorn kernels into his mouth and failed miserably most times. Then, as the credits were rolling, you took a commemorative photo to remember the one and only time you got so lucky at a movie showing.
“If you really want to go down memory lane, you should have a look at this,” he said, reaching over for a dark blue book. It had nothing on the cover to indicate what might have been inside, but he handed it to you, beaming.
“What’s this?”
“Just open it. Nothing’s going to jump out at you.” You weren’t sure if you should trust that comment. But, in spite of that, you opened the cover to see a myriad of tickets and receipts. It was a scrapbook from all the events, outings, and days you’d spent with Alexei. There was a rain-damaged handout from when you’d visited a local petting zoo; there was a little ticket from the time you beat Alexei at a mini golf course; there was token he’d accidentally pocketed from an arcade and forgotten to give back. Alexei had felt extra guilty about that one. It was filled with fragments of your friendship, a storyboard of your life together laid out on the pages.
Then you turned the page once more to see a single flower, preserved from being pressed between the pages. Around it were all kinds of Alexei-style notes detailing the exact species of flower with all kinds of facts about it. There was also a little paragraph in the top corner, explaining why this particular flower was his favourite. Because you had picked it and presented it to him as a little gift one day while you were out on a picnic. And you had been smiling. Your smile was his favourite, so that meant the flower was now his favourite because it had been infused with the image of your smile. It had little monetary value, nor did you ever expect him to keep it. You’d thought he would have just left it in the grass or tried to replant it so it didn’t die, not dedicate an entire two-page spread to commemorate this one small yellow wildflower. When you looked up, Alexei’s cheeks were a bright pink.
“I forgot that page was there…” His voice trailed off, eyes averting away from where you looked at him.
“Seems we’re both getting nice little reminders of the past, aren’t we?”
Alexei nodded, the movement awkward and stiff. “I’ll, uh, go back to sorting those clothes—” He tried to get up and away, only to be pulled back down by you reaching for the hem of his jumper.
“No running away from this one,” you teased, throwing yourself at him to wrap your arms around his neck in a tight hug. “This is really sweet. I love you. A lot.”
“Love? As in…”
“Yes, you idiot.”
♡ brooklyn ♡
Rain gently pattered against the window of Brooklyn’s home, the view of the city obscured by water droplets. It was the perfect accompanying backdrop to the sound of pianos and violins coming from the two speakers either side of his television. The air had a slight chill to it, the rain having sapped all warmth out of the atmosphere. Brooklyn had been quick to procure a blanket to drape over both of your legs and brew a pot of tea to share while silently reading together. Since befriending Brooklyn, it had become common practice to spend time at either his home or yours, reading something the other had recommended or simply enjoying some quiet time in one another’s presence. You’d met some months ago thanks to a mutual friend introducing you both and, after realising you were neighbours, a close friendship had blossomed and bloomed into what it was today. That same friend who’d introduced you would often ask after Brooklyn, sometimes hinting at something other than friendship between the both of you. There was always a flustered awkwardness in your denials and adamance that there was nothing of the sort going on between you and him. Brooklyn was not the easiest character to read, his warm smiles and gentle movements barely an indication of any secret feelings of devotion he might be keeping close to his chest. Even now, with a shared blanket covering your legs and his, knees lightly touching, you couldn’t quite tell if he’d orchestrated the closeness merely for warmth or for any other reason.
Either way, the proximity felt far more intimate than it usually did. It was comfortable. So comfortable, in fact, that you could feel your eyelids growing heavier and heavier by the second. You didn’t want to fall asleep, especially not so close to Brooklyn, but your control over your consciousness was gradually waning thin.
“Is my company really that tiresome? Or was it the book? Although I do believe I was the one to give it to you,” Brooklyn teased, his thumb playing with the corner of the page of his own book.
A gentle wave of guilt fluttered in your stomach as you sat up a little straighter. “Not at all. I blame the tea.”
He chuckled, turning his attention back to his book. “If you need to rest, then please, be my guest.” As if there were some magical power in his words, the drowsiness in your eyes rooted itself even deeper and before you knew it, you had drifted off into sleep. What you did not know, however, was that your head had found itself resting on Brooklyn’s shoulder, having gravitated toward the nearest warm spot. Brooklyn was hardly shocked at the sight of you sleeping, but that still didn’t stop his cheeks from warming in turn. He waited there for a moment, hesitating to see if you would gain consciousness again before he moved. But after no sign of waking, he carefully slotted a bookmark between the book’s pages so as not to jostle you too much. His hand gently pressed to your cheek, lifting your head from his shoulder so he could stand and help lay down your sleeping body, moving your legs so that you were completely sprawled out across his sofa. He adjusted the blanket to cover you entirely and stood, watching for a short moment with an absentminded smile on his face. He did not mind at all that you had fallen asleep, only pleased that you felt comfortable enough in his presence to let yourself rest so deeply.
Brooklyn ran the back of his fingers softly across your cheek and leaned to press a featherlight kiss to your temple, not wanting to disturb you yet feeling compelled over the gentle gesture. As he pulled away to sit himself on another armchair, Brooklyn’s eyes widened as he felt a grasp clutch at his wrist and lazily pull at his arm. He tried to pry your fingers from his wrist but had no such luck.
“Naptime for you too,” you mumbled sleepily, barely awake with your eyes still closed. Brooklyn was torn with indecision. A part of him thought this was a bad idea—that it would be too much for his heart to bear once the moment ended. But another, much larger part of him, was tempted beyond all desire. He wanted to; he really did. So he let himself give in. He slid beneath the blanket and let his arm fall atop your waist. Brooklyn barely breathed being so close to you. It wasn’t until he felt you nestling your face into the crook of his neck that he finally let his resolve shatter. He could figure out his feelings and what this all meant later on. He would happily wait for another day to share the feelings that simmered so deep in his stomach every time his gaze landed on you. All that mattered in this moment, was how your legs were tangled together beneath the blanket, and how your fingers sleepily clutched at his shirt. For Brooklyn, this was more than enough as sleep slowly found him.
♡ tobias ♡
Some weeks had passed since the last time you saw Tobias. With his job, travelling was no rare occurrence. He’d been on a plane to the other side of the country one day and then flying somewhere else a few days later. It was a lifestyle he loved, getting to travel all over while getting paid. What wasn’t to love? The main downside being away from home so much meant being away from you, a longtime friend and supporter of Tobias as he started out on his less conventional career path. Yours was a friendship he treasured, frequently sending updates and blurry, zoomed in photos of his face so you didn’t forget what he looked like after a couple of weeks away. He left sleepy voice notes telling you he missed you, drowsily recounting his day’s events before his voice trailed off and the voice note came to an end as he passed out in his hotel room. He’d often find little gifts or souvenirs that reminded him of you, wrapping them all messily in tissue paper and keeping them in a box labelled with your name so he didn’t lose them or forget to give them to you once he returned. Tobias would ignore your protests that you didn’t need any gifts, enjoying your embarrassed smile every time you opened one up to see a painfully touristy t-shirt or funny little keychain.
“It’s basically tradition at this point,” he’d argue, folding his arms and turning his nose away. He wasn’t hearing any of your excuses. But it was all in good fun, quickly reaching for another ridiculous gift he’d found and tossing it your way. It really had become a tradition at this point. A rather sweet one, too.
Tobias had been away from home for almost two months now. It was one of the longest trips away he’d ever had and despite his frequent updates, you could still feel the long stretch of time as acute as ever. You didn’t let on just how much you missed him, knowing he’d only tease you about how you could barely survive without him, or that he was just that amazing of a person. He’d no doubt try and laugh off that you must harbour secret feelings for him. Although not entirely untrue, you weren’t going to tempt fate by letting him pose that question, even as a joke. It didn’t hit exactly how much you missed his amusing playfulness until you were driving to the airport to pick him up, anticipation bubbling and fizzing in your chest. Your fingertips tingled as you clutched the steering wheel, barely able to focus on much else other than getting there as fast as the road would allow you. His flight was due to land in about thirty minutes and you wanted to be there ready and waiting with his favourite starbucks order in hand.
Standing in the arrivals lounge felt agonisingly long. Watching waves of people come through and none of them being Tobias felt like tiny needles pinching at your heart. You were checking your phone every few seconds, waiting and watching for an ‘I’m home!’ text that he’d usually send. Nothing. Pocketing it again, you looked up to see the next group of people coming through, all unfamiliar faces. Exhaling a deep breath, you shifted on your feet when a pair of airs wrapped around you from behind. A small squeal of shock came from you, loud laughter erupting from the person who had assailed you. A laugh you could recognise anywhere.
“Tobias Fox, you are paying for parking for near giving me a heart attack.” Your heart was racing, almost pounding out of your chest as you turned to Tobias, gently shoving him away from you. “And I’m keeping this drink now. No presents for you.”
He tried, and failed, to quell his laughter. “Aww, come on, don’t be mean. It’s been two months and I just got off a really long flight so shouldn’t you be extra nice to me?”
“No.”
Tobias poked your forehead. “Boring. If I ask nicely, do I get an actual ‘welcome back’ hug?”
“Maybe.” Before you could even finish uttering out the word, Tobias’ arms engulfed you again, holding you close as onlookers smiled to themselves. His hold was warm and all-encompassing, the two of you barely moving as if time had frozen. His cheek felt hot pressed against yours, his breath tickling the tip of your ear.
“I missed you,” he whispered. “A lot.” It was rare for Tobias to sound so sincere. Sure, he’d tell you he missed you on the numerous calls while he was away, but it always sounded so amicable and reflexive rather than a genuine admission of longing.
“Yeah? Or did you just miss raiding my fridge?”
He chuckled, the sound sending a tingle down your spine with how close he was to your ear. “Mm, that too. But mostly you. We’re a team, aren’t we?” Tobias leaned away, arms moving to take your hands in his. He waited for a moment, eyes taking in the view of your face before he picked up his suitcase and called for you to lead the way out. His left hand, still entwined with yours, tugged a little, throwing you off balance. He didn’t let you fall though, letting his lips catch your cheek as he grinned and continued on as if nothing had happened. This was new. Something about the way his fingers clasped yours and the buzzing tension in every step you both took. The lines between friendship and something else had blurred beyond comprehension. But it was a comfortable space to be in, liminal as it may be. You had Tobias back now, for at least a week or two, and there was so much more that could happen in such a short space of time.
shoutout to my three friends who are equally unwell over trigun and infinite blue. this one's for u. it's so so incredibly niche but the ones who get it, get it. taking some inspiration from the current obsession and throwing some faves in to spice it up. tobias, rory and dear reader just out in some post apocalyptic western landscape fighting for their lives against a notorious gang of gunmen. very very loosely inspired by the vash, wolfwood, and meryl dynamic. insert blood and thunder from 98 trigun soundtrack here. anyway enjoy the result of my late night brainrot and screaming over tasty fanart. cw for guns and some mild violence !
The sun sat high over the rolling dunes of sand, bearing down heavily on the unfortunate souls traversing the uneven ground. This time of year made that unforgiving heat feel all the more powerful as it threatened to burn the exposed arms leaning atop the side of the oversized car. Tobias had one arm resting where the window had once been and the other lazily sitting on the steering wheel, barely moving it as the car sped across the dunes. The car wasn't all that old, but it had seen its fair share of gun fights and fast escapes. There had once been a time when all of humanity wasn't on the brink of extinction, not fighting tooth and nail just to keep its cities from falling to ruin. But those times were no longer. Now, bands of desperate individuals were wreaking havoc and robbing innocents for all they were worth. Wanted posters were plastered over tavern walls, countless bounties out for whoever could drag their bodies back—dead or alive. Tobias' face had long been drawn to perfect likeness over the browned parchment. The bounty he'd amassed for himself, however, was not for pillaging and stealing from the bar owners who housed him on long journeys nor did he use his gun for unjust means. Rather, Tobias had garnered himself somewhat of a Robin Hood-esque reputation; he stole what had already been stolen and gave it back to the people. But when those who had stolen not only money, but also power, found themselves reaping the benefits of their greed, their first course of action was to bring down the man responsible for their shortcomings in whatever way possible. For anyone else it might have damaged their spirit, but Tobias cared too much for his cause to let a bounty on his head sway him. Especially now that he no longer travelled alone.
Months ago he'd been a lone soul going from town to town with little but the clothes on his back for company. Until he'd met you. A city native confined by circumstance who saw his freedom as a symbol of hope. All it had taken was one quiet conversation under the moonlight, aided by Tobias' slight inebriation, for you to be taken under his wing and brought along for the ride. His way of living brought uncertainty and risk; danger and threat becoming a constant friend looming over your shoulder. But you wouldn't change anything for the world. Not when it took you to the most remote corners of the planet. Even if that meant driving across the desert in the middle of summer with a broken cooling system. Tobias had tried to fix it once, but somehow made it worse. Since then, you'd taken the executive decision to ban Tobias from any kind of technical repair work. It was for the best. So long as the car held up long enough to get to the next town over, that was all you cared about.
"It's too hot," Tobias whined, leaning his head to rest atop your shoulder. You could feel the car jolt with his movements, hitting a slight bump in the sand. If it weren't for the fact there was no one around for miles you might have panicked a little more. Tobias' driving was a little less than careful out in the middle of nowhere.
"Hey, eyes on the road. Sand. You know what I mean," you said with a playful push against his head. Tobias sluggishly dragged himself back up, a sulking pout on his face as he scowled at you.
"If you let me fix the fans maybe I wouldn't be almost collapsing in the car. I don't see you volunteering to drive in my stead." His tone was light and teasing, not really meaning the words he said. He just knew it'd spark a reaction.
A bemused laugh left your lips, watching Tobias reach for his sunglasses. "First off, collapsing? Sure thing, bud. Secondly, the last time I offered to drive you told me off and made me sit in the back seat. Only got yourself to blame there."
"Because you had just gotten shot! You were bleeding out and insisting on driving! What did you expect me to do?"
"You said no driving then so I'm just doing as I was told," you said, folding your arms across your chest and closing your eyes. Tobias sighed, admitting his defeat. He might like to push back sometimes, but he really he was rather soft at heart. He liked your company more than he cared to admit, even if that meant being the one to drive uneven terrain in the scorching heat.
An hour later and your destination was finally in sight. The town stood like an oasis under the afternoon sun, the promise of food and, hopefully, fresh water an irresistible temptation luring you in. By the time Tobias had parked up under a shaded canopy and got out to make a point of stretching his legs, you were eager to see exactly where he'd taken you to. The town was another new venture to add to your list, its buildings and architecture looking similar enough to everywhere else you'd travelled that it felt familiar. Though it certainly seemed livelier than the previous destination had been. It wasn't quite a thriving city, but there was still life here. Still the teeming buzz of humanity clinging on to its home. Curious eyes followed you walking side-by-side with Tobias, some going wide in recognition and others scrutinising you both for intruding on this peaceful little town. There was no telling how situations like this would go. Either you'd leave unscathed with no one looking to take Tobias' bounty for themselves, or there'd be guns shooting from all over as you made a run for the car and made your escape. The last few escapades had been mostly uneventful, but there was no room to let one's guard down. Especially not when there was a stranger shrouded in a cloud of smoke leaning against the wall of a busy sounding bar. Dark sunglasses rested atop his nose, and his hair was a bright shade of red despite being muted in the shade. You could feel his gaze even as you looked away, as if he perhaps knew something you didn't. It wasn't a nice feeling.
"Hey, Tobias. Don't be obvious about it, but there's a guy over there looking our way. You think he's trouble?"
Tobias spared a glance, the concern in his face turning to a grimace. "Yes. But not the kind of trouble you're thinking of. Come on." Tobias reached for your wrist, pulling you in the direction of the mysterious stranger. Your attempts to ask for any semblance of clarity were ignored, Tobias' grasp warm and unmoving.
Up close, the stranger looked even more displeased. Someone had clearly pissed in his cereal this morning—if the deadpan look of repugnance was anything to go by. "Brave of you to show your face here," he drawled, the toothpick between his teeth moving with each word he spoke.
"Why? You looking to try and break it?" Tobias asked, an easy grin stretching his face as he leaned against an old and rusting motorbike.
"Not at all. Looks like you want to break my bike though. Move your ass." Whatever relationship Tobias held with this man it was certainly not friendship.
"You sure it's worth caring that much about this thing? Looks one wrong move away from falling apart."
The stranger looked almost bored as he uttered, voice completely toneless, "You're right. And I'm looking right at the wrong move in question."
You watched as Tobias' face dropped its lazy smile and jumped to hold an arm over his chest. "Settle down, boys. I'd prefer to not have to coddle Tobias for getting his ass kicked five minutes after arriving."
The stranger scoffed, raising an eyebrow as his eyes fell to yours. "Good luck with that. You know what kind of bounty your friend has over his head, right? And that the man who's hellbent on having him killed lives in this very town?"
Your eyes went wide, head snapping to see Tobias looking meek. He'd kept that one quiet. Before you could get any kind of explanation, the stranger looked elsewhere, tutting as he gestured for the two of you to follow him. Wariness stayed your steps until you felt a reassuring hand at your shoulder. Tobias might not have a gleaming friendship with this stranger but he clearly trusted him. And that was enough for you. For now, at least.
He'd sat the three of you in the corner of the bar, tucked away to preserve whatever privacy you could garner. There was enough bustle and energy to hide your voices under, with no obvious lingering looks from particular patrons. It seemed you and Tobias were going to have to play it safer here than you'd first thought. From what the stranger, whose name you now knew to be Rory, had said, Tobias' reputation here was notorious. The common people of the town knew him for his true intentions, having been first aided by him long ago. But equally there were many out for the bounty—not to mention the personal vendetta a local leader had for him after Tobias had not only stolen a good portion of his fortune from him, but also played a hand in making a public scene mocking him. Needless to say, those who disliked Tobias, really despised him. And would do almost anything to see his head in their hands. Such an outcome wouldn't exactly be ideal, so you could only hope it wouldn't come down to that. Stealing glances around the bar didn't offer much insight as to whether the wrong individuals had recognised Tobias. The revelry all seemed normal enough. But there was no telling how the day might turn. It was, after all, still bright and busy enough outside that he would be easily recognisable in the daylight—even if the crowds might help conceal him.
"Look, if I were you I'd get yourself out of here as soon as possible. Before you draw any more attention to yourself. News travels fast here," Rory warned, fingers playing with the glass at his hand. He hadn't taken a sip of the misty water. It was probably for the best.
"You worry too much, Rory. That's all in the past, I'm sure no one remembers or cares for something so trivial." Tobias laughed, waving off Rory's apparent concern. Rory scoffed, readying to quip back at Tobias' easiness when a piercing shout brought all chatter in the bar to a close. If it weren't for the remnants of Tobias' laugh, you could've heard a pin drop with the stunned silence that fell. Another shout sounded—a command to fight. The peace had well and truly shattered as your eyes landed on the group of men weaving through the bar tables.
"Tobias," you uttered, moving to rise from your seat. "Time to move."
He raised a brow, nonchalance smoothing his features. "Don't act guilty and they won't come for you." As soon as the words left his lips, a call of his name set Tobias' eyes wide. "On second thought, I think I've had enough to drink here."
Rory scoffed, rolling his eyes. "Look at that, I was right."
"I don't care who was right or wrong, I care about not getting my head blown off," you grumbled, eyeing up the best possible escape route as your pursuers came ever closer. Gaze landing on the window, you saw Tobias already running to jump through the small gap, his legs getting caught on the window frame and sending him tumbling onto the dusty sand below. For a wanted man, he wasn't exactly the dastardly delinquent that the rumours might have painted him out to be. He wasn't quite so talented on his feet as he was with a gun and it didn't exactly help with making a swift escape. In a split second, you and Rory shared a look of exasperation with your companion before following suit and climbing through the open window, landing on your feet in a manner much more becoming than Tobias had. It was then, as Tobias finished dusting off his shirt that the first gunshot sounded, glass shattering along with it. You needed to find cover, and fast.
Rory called for you and Tobias to follow him, leading you both through the backroads of town. Gunshots and shouting could be heard coming from the bar, but there was telling where others might by lying in wait. Your hand was resting at the hilt of your gun, ready to pull it out at a moment's notice. It had taken some getting used to, wielding a gun and shooting to defend yourself, but with Tobias at your side it became less and less scary each time. He never shot to kill. Only to deter pursuers or injure them at most, but only as a last minute resort. A gunshot fired, deflecting off a broken lamp post. One quick glance was enough to see that you had company. You readied your gun to aim, delayed only by the sight of Tobias already sending a bullet in their direction, knocking your pursuer's gun out of his hand.
"Got a plan, Rory?" He shouted, the three of you picking up the pace.
"I don't know, get out of here alive, maybe?!" An excellent plan, really. One you hoped to follow. Even if it was easier said than done. Rory slowed his pace, crouching behind the wall of a worn-down house. He'd avoided the busy clearing and managed to buy a few moments to plan the best route of escape.
"On the count of three, I want you to charge out there and shoot. Keep their focus on you. But don't die. Or get injured. I don't want any of you bleeding out on my bike."
"I'm sorry, did I hear that right? Your bike? You really think all three of us will fight on that thing?" You asked, incredulous. Rory's motorbike had looked like it'd seen better days. It barely looked like it could support one person let alone three.
"It's all just a means to an end. I start up the bike, we find whatever rundown motor you drove to town on and we get out of here."
Tobias shrugged. "Works for me. Do first, think later." He reached a hand out for your wrist and bolted with no hesitation. The gunmen shouted Tobias' name, calling for reinforcements as they aimed. The crowds had since dissipated and the townsfolk all seemed to have hidden away in their homes or in the shadows out of harm's way. The last thing you wanted was for anyone to get caught up in this unnecessarily. Your back was at Tobias', taking aim to disarm anyone in Tobias' blind spots as he did the same for you. You were a force of nature, an unstoppable duo completely honed in on the task at hand. Soon, the revving of a motorbike echoed from across the way, Rory's bright red hair gleaming under the sun as he tried to get it started.
"Don't tell me it's given up on you now!" Tobias called out, laughing under his breath as he leaned closer to you. "Hey, you got this. We can take these guys easy." Before you could eke out a response, Rory's motorbike surged forward and he soon reached you and Tobias. Bullets reflected off the rusting metal, Rory only stopping for a quick moment to reach an arm around you and haul you up onto the back of his bike. Instinctively, your arms wrapped around his shoulders as he pulled away.
"Uh, I think you're forgetting someone."
Rory shook his head, flinching as a bullet scraped by his cheek. "Shit. That hurt. But he'll be fine. The man never misses. And he's not about to get himself killed today. I'm just getting you to the car so we can all get out of here safe and sound."
"You'll be pleased to know our car isn't rusting and falling apart. Unlike this bike of yours."
"Don't complain, it's gotten us this far," Rory quipped. Although, as if on cue, a bullet struck the rear tyre and created a nasty puncture that had Rory swerving to try and regain control. The pair of you skidded across the ground, quick to draw out your weapons and recover from the mild throbbing of pain. The car was so painfully close. There was just a few feet between you and the promise of freedom. Tobias shouted for you to run, his feet moving so fast yet so gracefully it was almost like a choreographed dance. Heeding his command, you made for the car, leaping into the driver's seat and pulling forward as fast as it would let you.
"Get ready to fish for a Tobias," you instructed, eyebrows knitted with focus. It was almost cartoonish the way you slowed the car for Rory to open the door and reach out to grab Tobias, yanking him backwards and with a force you hadn't expected from his appearance. Tobias let out a yelp as he tried, and failed, to regain his footing, landing atop Rory's lap in the passenger seat. Rory closed the door and yelled for you to hit the accelerator. If it weren't for Tobias' near maniacal laughter, you'd be teeming with stress as more bullets came flying at the back of the car, the rear windscreen cracking as you escaped.
"That was the most ridiculous thing I've ever witnessed," Rory announced, voice as expressionless as his outward appearance until the realisation set in that Tobias was still sprawled over his lap, one leg hanging out of the broken window. "Get off of me. Now."
"Would love to. But unless you want me to kick them in the head trying to climb onto the backseat, we're stuck like this," Tobias sang, leaning his head to rest on Rory who looked like he was half tempted to throw Tobias back out of the car.
"Get used to it, Rory," you called out. "He's like this 24/7."
"Can't wait." Tobias only smiled brighter up at Rory while your eyes flickered between them and the sand dunes ahead. All danger was long gone in the distance, already becoming a fading memory. With how content Tobias seemed to be, it looked like whatever business he'd had in town was either not important enough to risk being caught again or had already been seen to. A small part of you suspected he'd only wanted to return in the first place to find Rory. You didn't know exactly what kind of past they shared, but the two were clearly important to each other in some way—even if Rory looked like he might eat a fistful of sand before he admitted it. Still, the new addition felt right. Even if it'd come with no small degree of danger, this all just felt like the perfect beginning to another new adventure.
shoutout to my three friends who are equally unwell over trigun and infinite blue. this one's for u. it's so so incredibly niche but the ones who get it, get it. taking some inspiration from the current obsession and throwing some faves in to spice it up. tobias, rory and dear reader just out in some post apocalyptic western landscape fighting for their lives against a notorious gang of gunmen. very very loosely inspired by the vash, wolfwood, and meryl dynamic. insert blood and thunder from 98 trigun soundtrack here. anyway enjoy the result of my late night brainrot and screaming over tasty fanart. cw for guns and some mild violence !
The sun sat high over the rolling dunes of sand, bearing down heavily on the unfortunate souls traversing the uneven ground. This time of year made that unforgiving heat feel all the more powerful as it threatened to burn the exposed arms leaning atop the side of the oversized car. Tobias had one arm resting where the window had once been and the other lazily sitting on the steering wheel, barely moving it as the car sped across the dunes. The car wasn't all that old, but it had seen its fair share of gun fights and fast escapes. There had once been a time when all of humanity wasn't on the brink of extinction, not fighting tooth and nail just to keep its cities from falling to ruin. But those times were no longer. Now, bands of desperate individuals were wreaking havoc and robbing innocents for all they were worth. Wanted posters were plastered over tavern walls, countless bounties out for whoever could drag their bodies back—dead or alive. Tobias' face had long been drawn to perfect likeness over the browned parchment. The bounty he'd amassed for himself, however, was not for pillaging and stealing from the bar owners who housed him on long journeys nor did he use his gun for unjust means. Rather, Tobias had garnered himself somewhat of a Robin Hood-esque reputation; he stole what had already been stolen and gave it back to the people. But when those who had stolen not only money, but also power, found themselves reaping the benefits of their greed, their first course of action was to bring down the man responsible for their shortcomings in whatever way possible. For anyone else it might have damaged their spirit, but Tobias cared too much for his cause to let a bounty on his head sway him. Especially now that he no longer travelled alone.
Months ago he'd been a lone soul going from town to town with little but the clothes on his back for company. Until he'd met you. A city native confined by circumstance who saw his freedom as a symbol of hope. All it had taken was one quiet conversation under the moonlight, aided by Tobias' slight inebriation, for you to be taken under his wing and brought along for the ride. His way of living brought uncertainty and risk; danger and threat becoming a constant friend looming over your shoulder. But you wouldn't change anything for the world. Not when it took you to the most remote corners of the planet. Even if that meant driving across the desert in the middle of summer with a broken cooling system. Tobias had tried to fix it once, but somehow made it worse. Since then, you'd taken the executive decision to ban Tobias from any kind of technical repair work. It was for the best. So long as the car held up long enough to get to the next town over, that was all you cared about.
"It's too hot," Tobias whined, leaning his head to rest atop your shoulder. You could feel the car jolt with his movements, hitting a slight bump in the sand. If it weren't for the fact there was no one around for miles you might have panicked a little more. Tobias' driving was a little less than careful out in the middle of nowhere.
"Hey, eyes on the road. Sand. You know what I mean," you said with a playful push against his head. Tobias sluggishly dragged himself back up, a sulking pout on his face as he scowled at you.
"If you let me fix the fans maybe I wouldn't be almost collapsing in the car. I don't see you volunteering to drive in my stead." His tone was light and teasing, not really meaning the words he said. He just knew it'd spark a reaction.
A bemused laugh left your lips, watching Tobias reach for his sunglasses. "First off, collapsing? Sure thing, bud. Secondly, the last time I offered to drive you told me off and made me sit in the back seat. Only got yourself to blame there."
"Because you had just gotten shot! You were bleeding out and insisting on driving! What did you expect me to do?"
"You said no driving then so I'm just doing as I was told," you said, folding your arms across your chest and closing your eyes. Tobias sighed, admitting his defeat. He might like to push back sometimes, but he really he was rather soft at heart. He liked your company more than he cared to admit, even if that meant being the one to drive uneven terrain in the scorching heat.
An hour later and your destination was finally in sight. The town stood like an oasis under the afternoon sun, the promise of food and, hopefully, fresh water an irresistible temptation luring you in. By the time Tobias had parked up under a shaded canopy and got out to make a point of stretching his legs, you were eager to see exactly where he'd taken you to. The town was another new venture to add to your list, its buildings and architecture looking similar enough to everywhere else you'd travelled that it felt familiar. Though it certainly seemed livelier than the previous destination had been. It wasn't quite a thriving city, but there was still life here. Still the teeming buzz of humanity clinging on to its home. Curious eyes followed you walking side-by-side with Tobias, some going wide in recognition and others scrutinising you both for intruding on this peaceful little town. There was no telling how situations like this would go. Either you'd leave unscathed with no one looking to take Tobias' bounty for themselves, or there'd be guns shooting from all over as you made a run for the car and made your escape. The last few escapades had been mostly uneventful, but there was no room to let one's guard down. Especially not when there was a stranger shrouded in a cloud of smoke leaning against the wall of a busy sounding bar. Dark sunglasses rested atop his nose, and his hair was a bright shade of red despite being muted in the shade. You could feel his gaze even as you looked away, as if he perhaps knew something you didn't. It wasn't a nice feeling.
"Hey, Tobias. Don't be obvious about it, but there's a guy over there looking our way. You think he's trouble?"
Tobias spared a glance, the concern in his face turning to a grimace. "Yes. But not the kind of trouble you're thinking of. Come on." Tobias reached for your wrist, pulling you in the direction of the mysterious stranger. Your attempts to ask for any semblance of clarity were ignored, Tobias' grasp warm and unmoving.
Up close, the stranger looked even more displeased. Someone had clearly pissed in his cereal this morning—if the deadpan look of repugnance was anything to go by. "Brave of you to show your face here," he drawled, the toothpick between his teeth moving with each word he spoke.
"Why? You looking to try and break it?" Tobias asked, an easy grin stretching his face as he leaned against an old and rusting motorbike.
"Not at all. Looks like you want to break my bike though. Move your ass." Whatever relationship Tobias held with this man it was certainly not friendship.
"You sure it's worth caring that much about this thing? Looks one wrong move away from falling apart."
The stranger looked almost bored as he uttered, voice completely toneless, "You're right. And I'm looking right at the wrong move in question."
You watched as Tobias' face dropped its lazy smile and jumped to hold an arm over his chest. "Settle down, boys. I'd prefer to not have to coddle Tobias for getting his ass kicked five minutes after arriving."
The stranger scoffed, raising an eyebrow as his eyes fell to yours. "Good luck with that. You know what kind of bounty your friend has over his head, right? And that the man who's hellbent on having him killed lives in this very town?"
Your eyes went wide, head snapping to see Tobias looking meek. He'd kept that one quiet. Before you could get any kind of explanation, the stranger looked elsewhere, tutting as he gestured for the two of you to follow him. Wariness stayed your steps until you felt a reassuring hand at your shoulder. Tobias might not have a gleaming friendship with this stranger but he clearly trusted him. And that was enough for you. For now, at least.
He'd sat the three of you in the corner of the bar, tucked away to preserve whatever privacy you could garner. There was enough bustle and energy to hide your voices under, with no obvious lingering looks from particular patrons. It seemed you and Tobias were going to have to play it safer here than you'd first thought. From what the stranger, whose name you now knew to be Rory, had said, Tobias' reputation here was notorious. The common people of the town knew him for his true intentions, having been first aided by him long ago. But equally there were many out for the bounty—not to mention the personal vendetta a local leader had for him after Tobias had not only stolen a good portion of his fortune from him, but also played a hand in making a public scene mocking him. Needless to say, those who disliked Tobias, really despised him. And would do almost anything to see his head in their hands. Such an outcome wouldn't exactly be ideal, so you could only hope it wouldn't come down to that. Stealing glances around the bar didn't offer much insight as to whether the wrong individuals had recognised Tobias. The revelry all seemed normal enough. But there was no telling how the day might turn. It was, after all, still bright and busy enough outside that he would be easily recognisable in the daylight—even if the crowds might help conceal him.
"Look, if I were you I'd get yourself out of here as soon as possible. Before you draw any more attention to yourself. News travels fast here," Rory warned, fingers playing with the glass at his hand. He hadn't taken a sip of the misty water. It was probably for the best.
"You worry too much, Rory. That's all in the past, I'm sure no one remembers or cares for something so trivial." Tobias laughed, waving off Rory's apparent concern. Rory scoffed, readying to quip back at Tobias' easiness when a piercing shout brought all chatter in the bar to a close. If it weren't for the remnants of Tobias' laugh, you could've heard a pin drop with the stunned silence that fell. Another shout sounded—a command to fight. The peace had well and truly shattered as your eyes landed on the group of men weaving through the bar tables.
"Tobias," you uttered, moving to rise from your seat. "Time to move."
He raised a brow, nonchalance smoothing his features. "Don't act guilty and they won't come for you." As soon as the words left his lips, a call of his name set Tobias' eyes wide. "On second thought, I think I've had enough to drink here."
Rory scoffed, rolling his eyes. "Look at that, I was right."
"I don't care who was right or wrong, I care about not getting my head blown off," you grumbled, eyeing up the best possible escape route as your pursuers came ever closer. Gaze landing on the window, you saw Tobias already running to jump through the small gap, his legs getting caught on the window frame and sending him tumbling onto the dusty sand below. For a wanted man, he wasn't exactly the dastardly delinquent that the rumours might have painted him out to be. He wasn't quite so talented on his feet as he was with a gun and it didn't exactly help with making a swift escape. In a split second, you and Rory shared a look of exasperation with your companion before following suit and climbing through the open window, landing on your feet in a manner much more becoming than Tobias had. It was then, as Tobias finished dusting off his shirt that the first gunshot sounded, glass shattering along with it. You needed to find cover, and fast.
Rory called for you and Tobias to follow him, leading you both through the backroads of town. Gunshots and shouting could be heard coming from the bar, but there was telling where others might by lying in wait. Your hand was resting at the hilt of your gun, ready to pull it out at a moment's notice. It had taken some getting used to, wielding a gun and shooting to defend yourself, but with Tobias at your side it became less and less scary each time. He never shot to kill. Only to deter pursuers or injure them at most, but only as a last minute resort. A gunshot fired, deflecting off a broken lamp post. One quick glance was enough to see that you had company. You readied your gun to aim, delayed only by the sight of Tobias already sending a bullet in their direction, knocking your pursuer's gun out of his hand.
"Got a plan, Rory?" He shouted, the three of you picking up the pace.
"I don't know, get out of here alive, maybe?!" An excellent plan, really. One you hoped to follow. Even if it was easier said than done. Rory slowed his pace, crouching behind the wall of a worn-down house. He'd avoided the busy clearing and managed to buy a few moments to plan the best route of escape.
"On the count of three, I want you to charge out there and shoot. Keep their focus on you. But don't die. Or get injured. I don't want any of you bleeding out on my bike."
"I'm sorry, did I hear that right? Your bike? You really think all three of us will fight on that thing?" You asked, incredulous. Rory's motorbike had looked like it'd seen better days. It barely looked like it could support one person let alone three.
"It's all just a means to an end. I start up the bike, we find whatever rundown motor you drove to town on and we get out of here."
Tobias shrugged. "Works for me. Do first, think later." He reached a hand out for your wrist and bolted with no hesitation. The gunmen shouted Tobias' name, calling for reinforcements as they aimed. The crowds had since dissipated and the townsfolk all seemed to have hidden away in their homes or in the shadows out of harm's way. The last thing you wanted was for anyone to get caught up in this unnecessarily. Your back was at Tobias', taking aim to disarm anyone in Tobias' blind spots as he did the same for you. You were a force of nature, an unstoppable duo completely honed in on the task at hand. Soon, the revving of a motorbike echoed from across the way, Rory's bright red hair gleaming under the sun as he tried to get it started.
"Don't tell me it's given up on you now!" Tobias called out, laughing under his breath as he leaned closer to you. "Hey, you got this. We can take these guys easy." Before you could eke out a response, Rory's motorbike surged forward and he soon reached you and Tobias. Bullets reflected off the rusting metal, Rory only stopping for a quick moment to reach an arm around you and haul you up onto the back of his bike. Instinctively, your arms wrapped around his shoulders as he pulled away.
"Uh, I think you're forgetting someone."
Rory shook his head, flinching as a bullet scraped by his cheek. "Shit. That hurt. But he'll be fine. The man never misses. And he's not about to get himself killed today. I'm just getting you to the car so we can all get out of here safe and sound."
"You'll be pleased to know our car isn't rusting and falling apart. Unlike this bike of yours."
"Don't complain, it's gotten us this far," Rory quipped. Although, as if on cue, a bullet struck the rear tyre and created a nasty puncture that had Rory swerving to try and regain control. The pair of you skidded across the ground, quick to draw out your weapons and recover from the mild throbbing of pain. The car was so painfully close. There was just a few feet between you and the promise of freedom. Tobias shouted for you to run, his feet moving so fast yet so gracefully it was almost like a choreographed dance. Heeding his command, you made for the car, leaping into the driver's seat and pulling forward as fast as it would let you.
"Get ready to fish for a Tobias," you instructed, eyebrows knitted with focus. It was almost cartoonish the way you slowed the car for Rory to open the door and reach out to grab Tobias, yanking him backwards and with a force you hadn't expected from his appearance. Tobias let out a yelp as he tried, and failed, to regain his footing, landing atop Rory's lap in the passenger seat. Rory closed the door and yelled for you to hit the accelerator. If it weren't for Tobias' near maniacal laughter, you'd be teeming with stress as more bullets came flying at the back of the car, the rear windscreen cracking as you escaped.
"That was the most ridiculous thing I've ever witnessed," Rory announced, voice as expressionless as his outward appearance until the realisation set in that Tobias was still sprawled over his lap, one leg hanging out of the broken window. "Get off of me. Now."
"Would love to. But unless you want me to kick them in the head trying to climb onto the backseat, we're stuck like this," Tobias sang, leaning his head to rest on Rory who looked like he was half tempted to throw Tobias back out of the car.
"Get used to it, Rory," you called out. "He's like this 24/7."
"Can't wait." Tobias only smiled brighter up at Rory while your eyes flickered between them and the sand dunes ahead. All danger was long gone in the distance, already becoming a fading memory. With how content Tobias seemed to be, it looked like whatever business he'd had in town was either not important enough to risk being caught again or had already been seen to. A small part of you suspected he'd only wanted to return in the first place to find Rory. You didn't know exactly what kind of past they shared, but the two were clearly important to each other in some way—even if Rory looked like he might eat a fistful of sand before he admitted it. Still, the new addition felt right. Even if it'd come with no small degree of danger, this all just felt like the perfect beginning to another new adventure.
hello i'm one of many who is unbelievably down bad for one nicholas d. wolfwood. i am also in desperate need for more fics so take this humble offering bc he will not leave my brain i cannot stop thinking about this man help. just wolfwood taking some time for himself after a long day, winding down in some rundown bar in the middle of nowhere when he spots someone who catches his eye at the other side of the bar. someone who looks equally interested in him. basically wolfwood shooting his shot and getting flustered when they give him the same energy back.
Sundown came and went, taking with it the last remaining vestiges of daylight. The clamouring sound of bustling drunkards spilled through the cracked windows of the rundown bar. The whole town looked like it was standing on its last legs, yet there was something endearing about the place. As though its people were keeping it alive, even in the face of despair. Even if their lives of struggle meant toiling day-by-day to make ends meet just enough to keep the town from collapsing to ruin, it was all worth it for a drink or two at the end of the day. And that spirit was what kept this town on its final legs, supported from the ground up by the resilience of its people. Even if that resilience came in the form of drunken celebration each night until the need for sleep drew them back to their homes, thus setting the cycle in motion again. It was a routine they'd perfected beyond measure—the very reason for their revelry. For Wolfwood, however, it was just another stop in the road. A place for him to rest his head for the night with a strong drink in one hand and a lit cigarette in the other. Nothing more, nothing less. Though he wouldn't mind if there was a little less of the noise.
He could barely think with all the shouting going around him. Though he couldn't deny it was certainly better than being stuck roaming the desert until he found a suitable resting spot. Wolfwood enjoyed travelling alone. He liked the solitude and the quiet of his own thoughts, even if he did get a little lost in them sometimes. But that's what places like this were for, to drown out some of that noise and forget all that rested on his shoulders. Forget his duties and contracts binding him to a life he was barely living. The drinks they served here were watered down so much the taste was almost unpalatable. But it was better than cloudy water, contaminated with who knows what as a direct result of a plant in need of dire attention. Wolfwood knew where to count his blessings, and a weak drink was one of them. Even with the racket going on around him, this hadn't been altogether terrible night. But, perhaps, it might just become an even better one. Across the other side of the bar he laid eyes on an unfamiliar face. They were smiling at the barkeep, laughing along with whatever he was saying. Something about them felt as though they belonged elsewhere—like they were destined for greater things and greater places than a rundown town with no prospects in sight. But where else was any better? It wasn't as though Wolfwood had anything nice to say about the ways in which he operated. Perhaps a quieter life in a place like this was a better way to live.
There was no point dwelling on the what-ifs and maybes of an alternate life. Wolfwood would not be braking free of his chains anytime soon. To dream was a fool's endeavour, and Wolfwood had no intentions of falling victim to such folly. If he lost focus now, what remained of his resolve would come crumbling down. He was not such a destructive person just yet. But with his two main vices in hand, he strongly considered adding a third. Wolfwood was no stranger to human touch, seeking out lovers in bars just like this one. Spending fleeting nights in the warmth of another's body before rising with the sun and taking his leave. It was a largely loveless act. Merely another way to pass the time and expend some of that pent up energy and frustration from the contracts that dictated his movements. Seeking the company of another was one small act of his own free will, and it seemed tonight was the night for him to be free—if only for a few short hours.
Draining the dregs of what remained in his glass, Wolfwood stood from his bar seat and made his way over to the stranger who captured his eye. They were no longer speaking with the barkeep, nursing their own glass of watered-down liquor in quiet solitude. Usually approaching a stranger in this manner was no difficult task for Wolfwood, but tonight there was a tightening sensation in his chest. As though he had become rattled with trepidation for how they might respond to his attempts at seduction. Rejections were few and far between, though were never really a setback. If someone were to decline, Wolfwood would simply move along and find another who sought human connection as he did. Suppressing whatever this bizarre feeling was, Wolfwood took those remaining steps to gently brush his shoulder against the captivating stranger's. They glanced toward him before breaking into a bright smile. Light radiated off their face, casting an almost angelic glow. Wolfwood had never seen a more beautiful smile in all his years of existence. He felt his heart shudder at the sight.
"Evening," he managed to drawl out, keeping his voice low and collected. Even if his internal self was suffering from a rare falter, he did not intend on letting that show; he was far too stoic of a man for that.
"Evening. Guessing you're new in town, huh?" They asked, voice calm and lilting. Yet Wolfwood did not struggle to hear them over the sound of the bar patrons' wild shouts and even wilder revelry. No, this stranger's voice was all he could hear. All he could think to focus on.
"That obvious? What gave me away?"
"Probably the quiet brooding alone at the bar. You play the quiet and mysterious stranger part well. It suits you."
Wolfwood wasn't expecting this. Somehow he couldn't remember how these encounters usually went. But he knew this was no ordinary meeting. "Mysterious, hm?"
They nodded, signalling for the bartender to pour another two glasses. "Please, you and I both know it's intentional."
Wolfwood leaned in a little closer, thanking the bartender for his new drink as he let himself drift nearer to his conversation partner. "Or perhaps I'm simply mysterious because I'm a stranger."
"Perhaps. But I don't buy it. Unless you're telling me you don't wander from town-to-town, visiting bars and fighting off lovers who want to see what lies beneath that awful smile."
"Awful? You wound me deeply. Do I seem such a heartless type?" Wolfwood practically held his breath as he awaited a response. He couldn't tell if this was going well or not. He was so far off his usual script that he barely knew how to keep up. It seemed he'd met his match, and that only made him more determined to figure them out. He wanted to study this stranger for hours. He yearned to hear their voice, feel their touch in all manner of ways. One night wasn't enough. He could spend an eon merely basking in their presence and it still wouldn't be enough. Wolfwood didn't know how to feel about such a tantalising thought. It was hardly characteristic of him to be so thoroughly wrapped around another's finger like this, let alone the finger of someone he had known for a few mere minutes. He wanted to hate it. But he would have been lying to himself to say that he did.
"I don't know, are you heartless?"
"I need a few more drinks before I give an answer to that." Wolfwood grimaced down at his dwindling supply. The stuff really was disgustingly weak.
"Might take more than a few to feel anything. About as much alcohol in these drinks as there is in the water." They brows furrowed as they took a sip, the expression punctuating their distaste for the drinks. It seemed even the locals despises the stuff.
"Tastes like it. Better than nothing though, right?"
They hummed a noncommittal sound. There was something they weren't saying, almost as if they were holding back from saying too much. Wolfwood yearned to pry. To hear all that ailed this person so that he might offer some sort of reprieve. An escape. But he held back. He couldn't risk seeming as though he cared for little more than something physical or meaningless. His intentions with this person held more meaning than Wolfwood had felt in years. It scared him, yet he couldn't pull away from that intense look in their eye. The quiet that descended was comfortable, the two taking sips of their drinks and accepting refills when the time came. Wolfwood could feel the gentle thrum of alcohol running through him, though far more muted than usual. He had never felt more alert. He liked it. And when the barkeep called for closing, he was content to return to his room for the night alone. Anything more would have been too greedy. And yet, when the stranger whose face only seemed even more beautiful under the moonlight reached for his hand, Wolfwood did not let go.
He didn't let go long after the sun rose and the time for him to leave came and went. Responsibilities be damned, he intended to buy as much time as he could to indulge in this stranger's touch, their kind words, their all-consuming kiss. Perhaps he would never see them again after this. He wanted to leave with no regrets. For as long as he stayed here, with them, he was free. And Wolfwood realised this was what living truly felt like. He had never felt so alive. So human. Everything else could wait as he burned all of this to memory. All of them to memory. He wanted to preserve every ounce of their being within his mind, so that long after he was gone, he could remember how it felt to be free.
hello i'm one of many who is unbelievably down bad for one nicholas d. wolfwood. i am also in desperate need for more fics so take this humble offering bc he will not leave my brain i cannot stop thinking about this man help. just wolfwood taking some time for himself after a long day, winding down in some rundown bar in the middle of nowhere when he spots someone who catches his eye at the other side of the bar. someone who looks equally interested in him. basically wolfwood shooting his shot and getting flustered when they give him the same energy back.
Sundown came and went, taking with it the last remaining vestiges of daylight. The clamouring sound of bustling drunkards spilled through the cracked windows of the rundown bar. The whole town looked like it was standing on its last legs, yet there was something endearing about the place. As though its people were keeping it alive, even in the face of despair. Even if their lives of struggle meant toiling day-by-day to make ends meet just enough to keep the town from collapsing to ruin, it was all worth it for a drink or two at the end of the day. And that spirit was what kept this town on its final legs, supported from the ground up by the resilience of its people. Even if that resilience came in the form of drunken celebration each night until the need for sleep drew them back to their homes, thus setting the cycle in motion again. It was a routine they'd perfected beyond measure—the very reason for their revelry. For Wolfwood, however, it was just another stop in the road. A place for him to rest his head for the night with a strong drink in one hand and a lit cigarette in the other. Nothing more, nothing less. Though he wouldn't mind if there was a little less of the noise.
He could barely think with all the shouting going around him. Though he couldn't deny it was certainly better than being stuck roaming the desert until he found a suitable resting spot. Wolfwood enjoyed travelling alone. He liked the solitude and the quiet of his own thoughts, even if he did get a little lost in them sometimes. But that's what places like this were for, to drown out some of that noise and forget all that rested on his shoulders. Forget his duties and contracts binding him to a life he was barely living. The drinks they served here were watered down so much the taste was almost unpalatable. But it was better than cloudy water, contaminated with who knows what as a direct result of a plant in need of dire attention. Wolfwood knew where to count his blessings, and a weak drink was one of them. Even with the racket going on around him, this hadn't been altogether terrible night. But, perhaps, it might just become an even better one. Across the other side of the bar he laid eyes on an unfamiliar face. They were smiling at the barkeep, laughing along with whatever he was saying. Something about them felt as though they belonged elsewhere—like they were destined for greater things and greater places than a rundown town with no prospects in sight. But where else was any better? It wasn't as though Wolfwood had anything nice to say about the ways in which he operated. Perhaps a quieter life in a place like this was a better way to live.
There was no point dwelling on the what-ifs and maybes of an alternate life. Wolfwood would not be braking free of his chains anytime soon. To dream was a fool's endeavour, and Wolfwood had no intentions of falling victim to such folly. If he lost focus now, what remained of his resolve would come crumbling down. He was not such a destructive person just yet. But with his two main vices in hand, he strongly considered adding a third. Wolfwood was no stranger to human touch, seeking out lovers in bars just like this one. Spending fleeting nights in the warmth of another's body before rising with the sun and taking his leave. It was a largely loveless act. Merely another way to pass the time and expend some of that pent up energy and frustration from the contracts that dictated his movements. Seeking the company of another was one small act of his own free will, and it seemed tonight was the night for him to be free—if only for a few short hours.
Draining the dregs of what remained in his glass, Wolfwood stood from his bar seat and made his way over to the stranger who captured his eye. They were no longer speaking with the barkeep, nursing their own glass of watered-down liquor in quiet solitude. Usually approaching a stranger in this manner was no difficult task for Wolfwood, but tonight there was a tightening sensation in his chest. As though he had become rattled with trepidation for how they might respond to his attempts at seduction. Rejections were few and far between, though were never really a setback. If someone were to decline, Wolfwood would simply move along and find another who sought human connection as he did. Suppressing whatever this bizarre feeling was, Wolfwood took those remaining steps to gently brush his shoulder against the captivating stranger's. They glanced toward him before breaking into a bright smile. Light radiated off their face, casting an almost angelic glow. Wolfwood had never seen a more beautiful smile in all his years of existence. He felt his heart shudder at the sight.
"Evening," he managed to drawl out, keeping his voice low and collected. Even if his internal self was suffering from a rare falter, he did not intend on letting that show; he was far too stoic of a man for that.
"Evening. Guessing you're new in town, huh?" They asked, voice calm and lilting. Yet Wolfwood did not struggle to hear them over the sound of the bar patrons' wild shouts and even wilder revelry. No, this stranger's voice was all he could hear. All he could think to focus on.
"That obvious? What gave me away?"
"Probably the quiet brooding alone at the bar. You play the quiet and mysterious stranger part well. It suits you."
Wolfwood wasn't expecting this. Somehow he couldn't remember how these encounters usually went. But he knew this was no ordinary meeting. "Mysterious, hm?"
They nodded, signalling for the bartender to pour another two glasses. "Please, you and I both know it's intentional."
Wolfwood leaned in a little closer, thanking the bartender for his new drink as he let himself drift nearer to his conversation partner. "Or perhaps I'm simply mysterious because I'm a stranger."
"Perhaps. But I don't buy it. Unless you're telling me you don't wander from town-to-town, visiting bars and fighting off lovers who want to see what lies beneath that awful smile."
"Awful? You wound me deeply. Do I seem such a heartless type?" Wolfwood practically held his breath as he awaited a response. He couldn't tell if this was going well or not. He was so far off his usual script that he barely knew how to keep up. It seemed he'd met his match, and that only made him more determined to figure them out. He wanted to study this stranger for hours. He yearned to hear their voice, feel their touch in all manner of ways. One night wasn't enough. He could spend an eon merely basking in their presence and it still wouldn't be enough. Wolfwood didn't know how to feel about such a tantalising thought. It was hardly characteristic of him to be so thoroughly wrapped around another's finger like this, let alone the finger of someone he had known for a few mere minutes. He wanted to hate it. But he would have been lying to himself to say that he did.
"I don't know, are you heartless?"
"I need a few more drinks before I give an answer to that." Wolfwood grimaced down at his dwindling supply. The stuff really was disgustingly weak.
"Might take more than a few to feel anything. About as much alcohol in these drinks as there is in the water." They brows furrowed as they took a sip, the expression punctuating their distaste for the drinks. It seemed even the locals despises the stuff.
"Tastes like it. Better than nothing though, right?"
They hummed a noncommittal sound. There was something they weren't saying, almost as if they were holding back from saying too much. Wolfwood yearned to pry. To hear all that ailed this person so that he might offer some sort of reprieve. An escape. But he held back. He couldn't risk seeming as though he cared for little more than something physical or meaningless. His intentions with this person held more meaning than Wolfwood had felt in years. It scared him, yet he couldn't pull away from that intense look in their eye. The quiet that descended was comfortable, the two taking sips of their drinks and accepting refills when the time came. Wolfwood could feel the gentle thrum of alcohol running through him, though far more muted than usual. He had never felt more alert. He liked it. And when the barkeep called for closing, he was content to return to his room for the night alone. Anything more would have been too greedy. And yet, when the stranger whose face only seemed even more beautiful under the moonlight reached for his hand, Wolfwood did not let go.
He didn't let go long after the sun rose and the time for him to leave came and went. Responsibilities be damned, he intended to buy as much time as he could to indulge in this stranger's touch, their kind words, their all-consuming kiss. Perhaps he would never see them again after this. He wanted to leave with no regrets. For as long as he stayed here, with them, he was free. And Wolfwood realised this was what living truly felt like. He had never felt so alive. So human. Everything else could wait as he burned all of this to memory. All of them to memory. He wanted to preserve every ounce of their being within his mind, so that long after he was gone, he could remember how it felt to be free.
i truly underestimated the sheer amount of brainrot watching trigun stampede would give me but here we go. this is the culmination of many nights spent scrolling vash fanart and letting the thoughts run wild. circumstances mean there's a gunfight happening and vash is there by your side trying to protect you but oops a bullet scraped past you and now he's taking you to safety asap to patch you up and fret over your wellbeing. protective vash being soft and flustered hits me directly in a weak spot he's just so.....y'know. love that little man.
Surviving in a hellish desert in the throes of summer was already an arduous task in its own right. Settlements and towns were miles upon miles apart, the distance feeling even longer when the horizon was a vast pool of sand as far as the eyes could see. Not to mention the perpetual thirst and hunger that ailed your body at any given time of day. The relief that coming across some semblance of civilisation brought was beyond words. However, enjoying such a sight was too often spoiled by hostile hosts or unsavoury groups. Travelling with Vash the Stampede meant there was never a boring moment, even if he did draw trouble like a magnet. Today was no different, under the unrelenting summer sun was the sound of gunfire. It had been like any other day until someone had recognised Vash and all hell broke loose. As soon as the gunfire started, you both dived for cover shortly before Vash charged off without a second thought to try and take care of things by himself. He always tried to insist that you remained out of danger despite knowing he was fighting a losing battle. Not once had you let Vash fight alone nor did you intend to start now. Pistol in hand, you held your own, immobilising anyone who came close enough. Never enough to fatally harm them, just enough to leave them unable or unwilling to keep fighting. Vash had been adamant that neither of you would be killers and you were more than happy to comply. Peaceful resolutions were few and far between but that didn't mean lives had to be lost for the sake of some gun fight over a money reward.
Surveying the area, you caught sight of Vash's familiar red coat. He artfully dodged a bullet flying his way, rolling behind a broken-down car for a momentary shelter. A perfect opening to make your way to him. Survival in numbers was always the winning move. You aimed your pistol, shooting at your assailant's feet and sending them off balance. It gave you enough time to jump to Vash's side, ducking just fast enough to dodge the bullet intended for you.
"What are you doing?! You never listen when I tell you to stay out of trouble," Vash complained, pouting as you caught your breath. It was almost impressive how he could sound so casual right in the middle of a direct attack on his life. He reloaded his bullets, lips still downturned though you knew he was secretly grateful for the backup. Even if Vash preferred to keep you out of harm's way, he never once doubted your ability to keep up with him.
"And let you have all the fun? No thanks." More gunshots struck the body of the car, swiftly ending any attempts at conversation. There would be time to talk things over later. First you had to get out with your lives in tact. You and Vash shared a look, silently communicating the usual plan of action and within an instant you were jumping back into the fray. In any other instance, being outnumbered would be cause for worry but with Vash at your side you knew that you would prevail. He hadn't earned his infamous reputation for nothing. Even if he was secretly far softer and much less prone to violence than the wanted posters suggested, his skill with a gun was on another level—though a decent helping of luck no doubt factored into his survival. Vash shouted over the cacophony of sounds, only just audible as he checked in with you. Even in the midst of battle Vash was as attentive as the situation allowed him to be. Every time you'd shout back that you were fine, that he should worry about himself but it did little to quell his worries.
The distant sound of cars approaching sounded from the deserted town centre. Whoever was leading this gang had called for backup and soon you and Vash were going to be surrounded. Your attackers were focused on Vash, intent on taking down the Humanoid Typhoon before worrying about the unnamed partner he'd found himself. He was worth a lot more in their eyes, which gave the perfect opportunity to slip away and take care of the threat before it became an even bigger problem. Usually you'd like to let Vash know if you were disappearing off somewhere but circumstance didn't allow it and you just had to hope he'd be able to find you once it was all over. You sprinted down past an old bar, its windows once boarded up but now littered with bullet holes. The place was certainly a ghost town. There had been no sign of life until a suspicious looking individual had emerged from the shadows asking who Vash was. There was no telling what troubles they'd caused here to clear out the townsfolk. Still, you couldn't dwell on maybes and what-ifs. What mattered here was getting out safely. And maybe finding some salvageable food and water to sustain you and Vash on the next leg of your journey.
Peeking out from an abandoned home, you caught sight of five men standing in what used to be the town centre. Whoever these people were they were no amateurs, at least judging by the size of their guns anyway. This could end poorly if you weren't careful. A more defensive approach was in order; sticking to the shadows to conceal your whereabouts was likely the only way you'd come out of this alive. You climbed through the broken window to the empty building beside you, making your way upstairs and onto the balcony. The wood of the balcony seemed to be holding together well enough to keep you mostly hidden from view with a few stray cracks and holes to keep an eye on your targets. It was the perfect spot to line up your gun and take aim without getting yourself caught too soon. You just had to hope the wooden barrier was enough to keep you from harm until you'd taken enough of them down. Your sight was limited, but even a few misses could suffice as warning shots to deter them from getting involved. On many occasions you'd watched grown men run screaming when a bullet struck metres away from their feet. All bark and no bite. Though something told you these men wouldn't go down quite so easily. Your intuitions proved accurate, the blind shots doing little to scare them off.
Within a few shots, your position was compromised and your targets had begun their own onslaught of bullets. A number of bullets struck the balcony though you still remained out of sight for the time being, the few hits you'd managed to land working in your favour to skew their aim. Judging by the speed at which they shot, you'd need to make a move. And fast. If one of them decided to make a run for the house you'd be without a solid escape route. Then, a bullet came flying, striking a wood panel beside you and giving your attackers a direct chance to shoot. You leapt up from your spot, running back into the house to make your escape. Footsteps thundered up the stairs leaving you no choice but to engage. Despite his imposing size, the man was not well-trained in close combat. His moves were predictable and clumsy, leaving one too many openings for you to take advantage of and send him crashing down unconscious. One threat down meant only four more to take care of. Then there was Vash and whatever chaos he was involved in right now. You couldn't let your concern for him cloud you judgement, pushing those fears aside as you made your way down and back out of the window you'd climbed in from. Gunshots were firing at an alarming rate though there was little strategy in it. They didn't know where you were just yet. Waiting behind the wall to the house, you let them edge closer before ambushing them with a fresh round of bullets. Now that you were on ground level, you could see two of the assailants holding back, no weapons in sight—though there was no counting on them being unarmed.
As shots fired, you tried to manoeuvre around the onslaught of ammunition but without sufficient cover you couldn't escape the scrapes of a few bullets. Cursing under your breath as one shot past your cheek and split the skin, you heard a familiar voice calling your name. Vash. He was running like a fire had been lit inside of him. There was an intensity upon his face that you rarely ever saw. Even in the most dangerous and dire of situations, Vash always managed to send you a beaming smile. He was truly the embodiment of sunshine. But right now he was the eye of a storm crashing over all in its wake. He was ruthless with his shots, each one striking true and sending your attackers to the ground. Still alive, but perhaps wishing they weren't. The two men who had been hanging back and watching remained out of Vash's line of sight and, for the time being, out of danger. Not if you could help it. Raising your gun, you set onto the two remaining assailants. They were quick to return fire as they backed towards their car.
"Let them go. We need to get out of here," Vash called, making his way over to you. "Are you oka—" Vash halted mid-sentence, spotting the slow drip of blood down your cheek. Without another word, he was scooping you into his arms and running despite your protests. It was a minor injury, not one to panic over. But Vash didn't seem to think so. He carried you off to the other side of town, making for one of the abandoned homes still in good enough shape to act as sufficient shelter. He sat you down on an old leather couch, the material torn up and worn, as he rummaged through drawers in the neighbouring kitchen to look for something to clean the wound with.
"Can I trust you to stay there while I go back to our car? Assuming it's still in one piece, that is," Vash asked, eyeing up with caution. Worried knitted his brows as he contemplated leaving you here alone and unprotected.
"I can walk, you know? It's just a little scratch."
Vash shook his head, blonde hair as animated as his expression. "Doctor's orders."
"You're not a doctor."
"Am now. Stay there." Vash made for the doorway before turning back to add, "I'm glad you're okay."
When he returned with some supplies, Vash set to cleaning your wound. The bleeding had long since stopped but he was adamant that it required his utmost attention. His movements were gentle as he wiped away the dried blood with a dampened rag of fabric while his other hand softly holding your chin in place. He always touched you with a delicate sense of care, but this felt almost as if he were scared to break you any further. Despite his tenderness, something darker seemed to linger in Vash's face. As if he felt guilty for not being there just that little bit sooner. None of this was his fault. There was no way to predict such an attack would happen. It was simply the way of the land. Whether Vash viewed it that way or not was another matter entirely. Once he deemed you cleaned up and devoid of any other injuries, Vash tossed aside the cloth and leaned forward in his seat. He was uncharacteristically quiet, usually full of energy after making a safe escape from a fight.
"Vash?" Your voice was low, tentative so as not to startle him. "Please don't blame yourself for what happened out there. I'm fine, see?"
His eyes remained fixed on a hole in the flooring as he responded. "They came after us because of me. You got hurt because I wasn't fast enough."
"No." You immediately denied his admissions of guilt, edging closer to place your hands on his cheeks. They were as soft as usual, tinted pink from sun exposure. His eyes were glistening, tears threatening to spill down those rosy cheeks. "This isn't your fault, Vash."
"I was so scared. I thought I'd taken care of the last of them then I turn and see you're gone. I heard gunshots and—" He paused, voice cracking. "You don't know how I relieved I was to see you still alive."
Your heart ached, knowing all too well the fear that had likely stricken him in that moment. "I promised that we were in this together, didn't I? Can't go breaking it just yet." You smiled, heart fluttering at the sight of Vash mirroring the action. Your thumb swiped at a stray tear as you left a soft kiss on the bridge of Vash's nose. His cheeks warmed a deeper shade as he tried to pull away. He flustered easily but still tried to hide it every time to no avail.
"Think we're good here for the night? We could do with sleeping in an actual bed for once. One more night in the car might actually kill me."
Vash nodded, hands finding yours as he pulled you up from your spot on the couch. "Practice for the future, hm? All cosy in a little house. Could be nice. So long as you don't mind the bounty, that is."
"It's worth it if it's you." Vash's hold on your hands dropped, his hands moving to cover his bright, blushing face. Your laugh chimed with the sound of his whining complaints. What the future held in store for you and Vash was unknown, but you were certain that so long as he was smiling, all would be well.
i truly underestimated the sheer amount of brainrot watching trigun stampede would give me but here we go. this is the culmination of many nights spent scrolling vash fanart and letting the thoughts run wild. circumstances mean there's a gunfight happening and vash is there by your side trying to protect you but oops a bullet scraped past you and now he's taking you to safety asap to patch you up and fret over your wellbeing. protective vash being soft and flustered hits me directly in a weak spot he's just so.....y'know. love that little man.
Surviving in a hellish desert in the throes of summer was already an arduous task in its own right. Settlements and towns were miles upon miles apart, the distance feeling even longer when the horizon was a vast pool of sand as far as the eyes could see. Not to mention the perpetual thirst and hunger that ailed your body at any given time of day. The relief that coming across some semblance of civilisation brought was beyond words. However, enjoying such a sight was too often spoiled by hostile hosts or unsavoury groups. Travelling with Vash the Stampede meant there was never a boring moment, even if he did draw trouble like a magnet. Today was no different, under the unrelenting summer sun was the sound of gunfire. It had been like any other day until someone had recognised Vash and all hell broke loose. As soon as the gunfire started, you both dived for cover shortly before Vash charged off without a second thought to try and take care of things by himself. He always tried to insist that you remained out of danger despite knowing he was fighting a losing battle. Not once had you let Vash fight alone nor did you intend to start now. Pistol in hand, you held your own, immobilising anyone who came close enough. Never enough to fatally harm them, just enough to leave them unable or unwilling to keep fighting. Vash had been adamant that neither of you would be killers and you were more than happy to comply. Peaceful resolutions were few and far between but that didn't mean lives had to be lost for the sake of some gun fight over a money reward.
Surveying the area, you caught sight of Vash's familiar red coat. He artfully dodged a bullet flying his way, rolling behind a broken-down car for a momentary shelter. A perfect opening to make your way to him. Survival in numbers was always the winning move. You aimed your pistol, shooting at your assailant's feet and sending them off balance. It gave you enough time to jump to Vash's side, ducking just fast enough to dodge the bullet intended for you.
"What are you doing?! You never listen when I tell you to stay out of trouble," Vash complained, pouting as you caught your breath. It was almost impressive how he could sound so casual right in the middle of a direct attack on his life. He reloaded his bullets, lips still downturned though you knew he was secretly grateful for the backup. Even if Vash preferred to keep you out of harm's way, he never once doubted your ability to keep up with him.
"And let you have all the fun? No thanks." More gunshots struck the body of the car, swiftly ending any attempts at conversation. There would be time to talk things over later. First you had to get out with your lives in tact. You and Vash shared a look, silently communicating the usual plan of action and within an instant you were jumping back into the fray. In any other instance, being outnumbered would be cause for worry but with Vash at your side you knew that you would prevail. He hadn't earned his infamous reputation for nothing. Even if he was secretly far softer and much less prone to violence than the wanted posters suggested, his skill with a gun was on another level—though a decent helping of luck no doubt factored into his survival. Vash shouted over the cacophony of sounds, only just audible as he checked in with you. Even in the midst of battle Vash was as attentive as the situation allowed him to be. Every time you'd shout back that you were fine, that he should worry about himself but it did little to quell his worries.
The distant sound of cars approaching sounded from the deserted town centre. Whoever was leading this gang had called for backup and soon you and Vash were going to be surrounded. Your attackers were focused on Vash, intent on taking down the Humanoid Typhoon before worrying about the unnamed partner he'd found himself. He was worth a lot more in their eyes, which gave the perfect opportunity to slip away and take care of the threat before it became an even bigger problem. Usually you'd like to let Vash know if you were disappearing off somewhere but circumstance didn't allow it and you just had to hope he'd be able to find you once it was all over. You sprinted down past an old bar, its windows once boarded up but now littered with bullet holes. The place was certainly a ghost town. There had been no sign of life until a suspicious looking individual had emerged from the shadows asking who Vash was. There was no telling what troubles they'd caused here to clear out the townsfolk. Still, you couldn't dwell on maybes and what-ifs. What mattered here was getting out safely. And maybe finding some salvageable food and water to sustain you and Vash on the next leg of your journey.
Peeking out from an abandoned home, you caught sight of five men standing in what used to be the town centre. Whoever these people were they were no amateurs, at least judging by the size of their guns anyway. This could end poorly if you weren't careful. A more defensive approach was in order; sticking to the shadows to conceal your whereabouts was likely the only way you'd come out of this alive. You climbed through the broken window to the empty building beside you, making your way upstairs and onto the balcony. The wood of the balcony seemed to be holding together well enough to keep you mostly hidden from view with a few stray cracks and holes to keep an eye on your targets. It was the perfect spot to line up your gun and take aim without getting yourself caught too soon. You just had to hope the wooden barrier was enough to keep you from harm until you'd taken enough of them down. Your sight was limited, but even a few misses could suffice as warning shots to deter them from getting involved. On many occasions you'd watched grown men run screaming when a bullet struck metres away from their feet. All bark and no bite. Though something told you these men wouldn't go down quite so easily. Your intuitions proved accurate, the blind shots doing little to scare them off.
Within a few shots, your position was compromised and your targets had begun their own onslaught of bullets. A number of bullets struck the balcony though you still remained out of sight for the time being, the few hits you'd managed to land working in your favour to skew their aim. Judging by the speed at which they shot, you'd need to make a move. And fast. If one of them decided to make a run for the house you'd be without a solid escape route. Then, a bullet came flying, striking a wood panel beside you and giving your attackers a direct chance to shoot. You leapt up from your spot, running back into the house to make your escape. Footsteps thundered up the stairs leaving you no choice but to engage. Despite his imposing size, the man was not well-trained in close combat. His moves were predictable and clumsy, leaving one too many openings for you to take advantage of and send him crashing down unconscious. One threat down meant only four more to take care of. Then there was Vash and whatever chaos he was involved in right now. You couldn't let your concern for him cloud you judgement, pushing those fears aside as you made your way down and back out of the window you'd climbed in from. Gunshots were firing at an alarming rate though there was little strategy in it. They didn't know where you were just yet. Waiting behind the wall to the house, you let them edge closer before ambushing them with a fresh round of bullets. Now that you were on ground level, you could see two of the assailants holding back, no weapons in sight—though there was no counting on them being unarmed.
As shots fired, you tried to manoeuvre around the onslaught of ammunition but without sufficient cover you couldn't escape the scrapes of a few bullets. Cursing under your breath as one shot past your cheek and split the skin, you heard a familiar voice calling your name. Vash. He was running like a fire had been lit inside of him. There was an intensity upon his face that you rarely ever saw. Even in the most dangerous and dire of situations, Vash always managed to send you a beaming smile. He was truly the embodiment of sunshine. But right now he was the eye of a storm crashing over all in its wake. He was ruthless with his shots, each one striking true and sending your attackers to the ground. Still alive, but perhaps wishing they weren't. The two men who had been hanging back and watching remained out of Vash's line of sight and, for the time being, out of danger. Not if you could help it. Raising your gun, you set onto the two remaining assailants. They were quick to return fire as they backed towards their car.
"Let them go. We need to get out of here," Vash called, making his way over to you. "Are you oka—" Vash halted mid-sentence, spotting the slow drip of blood down your cheek. Without another word, he was scooping you into his arms and running despite your protests. It was a minor injury, not one to panic over. But Vash didn't seem to think so. He carried you off to the other side of town, making for one of the abandoned homes still in good enough shape to act as sufficient shelter. He sat you down on an old leather couch, the material torn up and worn, as he rummaged through drawers in the neighbouring kitchen to look for something to clean the wound with.
"Can I trust you to stay there while I go back to our car? Assuming it's still in one piece, that is," Vash asked, eyeing up with caution. Worried knitted his brows as he contemplated leaving you here alone and unprotected.
"I can walk, you know? It's just a little scratch."
Vash shook his head, blonde hair as animated as his expression. "Doctor's orders."
"You're not a doctor."
"Am now. Stay there." Vash made for the doorway before turning back to add, "I'm glad you're okay."
When he returned with some supplies, Vash set to cleaning your wound. The bleeding had long since stopped but he was adamant that it required his utmost attention. His movements were gentle as he wiped away the dried blood with a dampened rag of fabric while his other hand softly holding your chin in place. He always touched you with a delicate sense of care, but this felt almost as if he were scared to break you any further. Despite his tenderness, something darker seemed to linger in Vash's face. As if he felt guilty for not being there just that little bit sooner. None of this was his fault. There was no way to predict such an attack would happen. It was simply the way of the land. Whether Vash viewed it that way or not was another matter entirely. Once he deemed you cleaned up and devoid of any other injuries, Vash tossed aside the cloth and leaned forward in his seat. He was uncharacteristically quiet, usually full of energy after making a safe escape from a fight.
"Vash?" Your voice was low, tentative so as not to startle him. "Please don't blame yourself for what happened out there. I'm fine, see?"
His eyes remained fixed on a hole in the flooring as he responded. "They came after us because of me. You got hurt because I wasn't fast enough."
"No." You immediately denied his admissions of guilt, edging closer to place your hands on his cheeks. They were as soft as usual, tinted pink from sun exposure. His eyes were glistening, tears threatening to spill down those rosy cheeks. "This isn't your fault, Vash."
"I was so scared. I thought I'd taken care of the last of them then I turn and see you're gone. I heard gunshots and—" He paused, voice cracking. "You don't know how I relieved I was to see you still alive."
Your heart ached, knowing all too well the fear that had likely stricken him in that moment. "I promised that we were in this together, didn't I? Can't go breaking it just yet." You smiled, heart fluttering at the sight of Vash mirroring the action. Your thumb swiped at a stray tear as you left a soft kiss on the bridge of Vash's nose. His cheeks warmed a deeper shade as he tried to pull away. He flustered easily but still tried to hide it every time to no avail.
"Think we're good here for the night? We could do with sleeping in an actual bed for once. One more night in the car might actually kill me."
Vash nodded, hands finding yours as he pulled you up from your spot on the couch. "Practice for the future, hm? All cosy in a little house. Could be nice. So long as you don't mind the bounty, that is."
"It's worth it if it's you." Vash's hold on your hands dropped, his hands moving to cover his bright, blushing face. Your laugh chimed with the sound of his whining complaints. What the future held in store for you and Vash was unknown, but you were certain that so long as he was smiling, all would be well.
blacksmith milo many thoughts head so full. this has been floating around in my brain for like a month it's been agony in all the best ways. throwback to playing l4d2 in vc and going wild over blacksmith milo crumbs. anyway it was so powerful i had to go and make it a reality if only to stop the screaming in my brain. milo with his hair tied back and sleeves rolled up......sensational. mc is a travelling mercenary currently between jobs and they've just arrived in a town nearby the capital. before going on to find work, they come across a blacksmith with a face far too pretty to be anything other than some rich noble's son. the two get talking and the rest is history.
A gentle pattering of rain thrummed rhythmically against the deep green hood of your cloak. Since reaching the northern lands of the capital, the climate had shifted drastically from the generous sunshine of the southern desert. Even the town's cottages and taverns looked as gloomy as the skies above, thatched roofs one bad thunderstorm away from falling apart. Coming here directly after weeks of watching the sun reflect off crystal windows and sprawling oases was like being doused in ice water. Almost quite literally, given the light downpour that only seemed to worsen with every step your horse took down the muddied path. The sun was nowhere to be seen despite the early afternoon hour, hidden behind knitted clouds so heavy and grey they looked almost ready to burst. You hoped to find the local blacksmith's soon if only to find cover from the inevitable impending storm. There was also the matter of your sword's blade growing appallingly dull; if you didn't get it tended to soon you'd barely be able to cut a loose thread from your tunic.
It seemed fate was on your side today, the familiar sound of iron against steel like a metronome leading the chorus of town life. Tucked away just behind an inn was a blacksmith's workshop. The exterior looked a little more lively than the rest of the town's infrastructure, as though its owner had taken extra care to keep it in optimal condition during the harsher weathers. An orange glow from the fiery furnaces came from the open doorway, letting out a mild warmth to fight against the cold rain. Luckily for your horse, there was an awning canopy sheltering the side of the workshop complete with a water trough and a place to tie their reins. As you made your way inside removing the dampened cloak hood you were met with the sight of who you presumed owned the place. He seemed tall even when leaning over the anvil to inspect his work. His long hair was pulled back and tied with a strip of leather loosely atop his head. His sleeves were rolled back to reveal his forearms, no doubt in part to combat the raging heat of the furnace. Surveying the room was enough to tell you that he was no beginner to his trade. It may have been a small workshop, fitting for a small town you supposed, but it was cosy. The place was lit with amber lanterns, their warm light reflected in the metal sheen of swords and axes and shields. He just might sell his stock on to the capital judging by the sheer quality of it all. It seemed you'd struck gold coming across this small rural town.
Your fingers chimed the small bell sitting on the desk by the entrance, its tinny ring echoing against the walls. The blacksmith turned, seemingly surprised to hear a visitor. Whoever this man was, he was no ordinary blacksmith. Most held rugged faces, worn with age and wizened under the roaring heat of constant fire. No, this man looked more like a rich noble's son who'd been deposited in some poor, desolate town as punishment for mistreating one too many maids. His eyes were a rich purple and his skin surprisingly held a gentle tan, clear and smooth save for a few stray swipes of coal from where his fingers had brushed loose strands of hair away from his face. The man could only be described as pretty—beautiful even. Certainly a rare trait for one in such a profession, at least as far as you had encountered. Still, even if he did not quite look the part, his handiwork was enough to tell you he was no beginner. Even the small blade he held looked far more ornate and well-made than some of your own back home.
"Afternoon," he called out, setting aside his current project and pushing his hair back from his face, smearing another streak of charcoal across his forehead. It took a great deal of self-restraint to not let slip a bemused smile.
"Afternoon. I assume you're the one to go to for sharpening weapons?" You asked, removing the scabbard from your waist and setting it atop the counter.
The blacksmith didn't crack a smile, unwilling to put on the pretences most tradespeople offered visitors. "About the only one in town who knows how to hold one of these, let alone sharpen one. Just passing through?"
"On my way to the capital. Although I shall likely have to extend my stay if the weather doesn't ease up. Is it usually this dreary around here?" You leaned against the counter, watching as the blacksmith took your sword to the whetstone, hands working deftly to sharpen the steel. He was sat directly under a lantern, using the light to inspect his handiwork every few moments. His focus was as razor sharp as your blade's edge was soon to be, taking utmost care to ensure no room for mistakes.
"If you're planning to wait for the rain to clear then you might as well move here. No getting to the capital until a day or two in the summer season when the sun deigns to make a rare appearance."
You grimaced, chin resting on your hand. You'd thought as much but the confirmation was not on your list of favourite things to hear. It seemed you had a long, and damp, journey ahead of you yet. Today might be a choice day to invest in another spare cloak. One that was perhaps a tad more waterproof that what you currently wore.
"Anything else you need sharpening up? Low on arrows, maybe? Got plenty of stock so feel free to take your time. Stay out of the rain a little longer." You were not one to spit in the face of opportunity, especially given the bonus pay you'd received from your previous employer. So you went and retrieved your reserve weapons from the shelter in which you'd left your horse and offered them up to the blacksmith whose name, as you'd learnt, was Milo. Surprisingly, he made for rather pleasant conversation, asking after your line of work and where you'd travelled from. In response, he'd offered up a chapter or two of his own story. He'd been born and raised in the small town to grocer parents but had spent most of his time in the local blacksmith's workshop, bothering him with all sorts of questions about everything had worked until the old man had taken him on as an apprentice. Once he was old enough, Milo was taking requests and eventually took over the business once his boss was too old to work as proficiently as he once had. Since then he primarily did business with palace officials, supplying new stock and revitalising damaged weapons and materials.
As the day drew to a close, the sky somehow turning darker, you pulled yourself away from the workshop and its rather pleasant company. You'd tossed a few silvers onto the counter, leaving an extra as payment for the afternoon shelter despite Milo's protests. He had been in the middle of forging a formerly broken sword and couldn't pull himself away to try and refund some of your coin. When you peered through the window, Milo was shaking his head as he returned to his work, a whisper of a smile tugging at his lips. The first and only one you'd seen from him all day, no doubt because he believed no one could see. Still, it warmed you inside to know he had not thought of your presence as a complete bother.
After leaving town, it became a somewhat regular routine to revisit that little rural town whenever your travel plans allowed it. Every time, without fail, you'd spend a day sat inside the workshop, telling Milo all of your ventures to various corners of the realm. In turn, he'd tell you of the local goings on, most of it trivial and uninteresting in his eyes but the normality of it all was a welcome change of pace for you. Hearing about the friendly competition between the various townsmen or other affairs that took place was a far cry from the types of jobs you were taking on, leading you to all sorts of unsavoury characters hiding in dark places. Spending that time with Milo was a highlight of your journeying, even if those visits were few and far between. He would always welcome you in and offer up a seat in the workshop, sometimes even volunteering to cook a hot meal. He was a rare constant in the ever changing routine of your life and at some point along the way you began to wonder what life might look like if you had a more permanent place in town, as opposed to your constant moving from place-to-place with each job that came your way. It was easy to let your mind wander in the silence of solitude that your travels offered, daydreaming of scenes of you and Milo where you could greet each other whenever the desire struck, rather than waiting weeks or months for a job that sent you in that direction. Whether he wondered of the same or not was a complete mystery.
Despite the growing closeness between the both of you, Milo remained a mostly closed book, keeping his innermost feelings to himself. Any time you mentioned in passing that you had missed his company, Milo would merely hum in acknowledgement and not offer up his own feelings on the matter. If you tried to press for more of an answer, he'd change the subject or make a teasing remark about how you were growing attached. In spite of his apparent disdain for sentimental comments, Milo would always be trying, and failing, to suppress a smile that suggested he was not quite as emotionally guarded as he pretended to be. Usually you'd let it pass without acknowledgement, but it was rather satisfying to watch him scramble for a response that didn't implicate himself for enjoying your company.
As time passed by, it had been a good many months since your last visit to that little workshop. Circumstance had kept you away and busy with a larger job than usual from your latest client. It had been so brutal that you were already planning a few weeks of rest before taking on another job if only to recover from the various aches and pains you'd acquired along the way. Even if they were only minor injuries you felt deeply in need of a good long rest. Thankfully, as fate would have it, you were coming to the end of this particularly gruelling job and the end was on the horizon along with your long-awaited freedom. And with that oncoming freedom you intended to make your way toward that same old town. Naturally, by the time you reached its borders, the skies grew gradually more grey and bleak as though there was some vengeful god overlooking the people and deciding the enact their frustrations in the form of dull weather. Still, it wouldn't feel the same without the sharp winds and constant threat of rain at all times.
As the workshop came into view, you could feel all the tensions that the last months of work had instilled within your body evaporate as if by magic. Dismounting and walking into the familiar wall of warmth felt like it took hours, the anticipation of seeing Milo again building with each breath. But as you breached the threshold of the doorway, you were met with an empty workshop with no blacksmith in sight. There were signs of half-finished projects lying on the wooden benches and the fires of the furnace were still keeping the place enveloped in its usual heat but Milo was nowhere to be seen. It was hard to ignore the sting of disappointment that you had missed him. He was unlikely to be too far but there was always the chance Milo was away in the capital delivering his latest assignments. Still, it wasn't as if missing him today would mean you had to wait another number of weeks. You could easily return in a few days now that you had a moment's peace to breathe before continuing on to the next place. Sighing to yourself, you made to turn for the door when a familiar voice struck your ears.
"Long time no see. There was me starting to get worried you'd forgotten all about me." Milo was stood in the workshop's entrance, carrying a large box filled with materials. He set the box down and stood with one hand leaning against the counter while the other sat on his waist. His hair was loose over his shoulders, a rare sight given his usual spot by the furnace, but it suited him. Somehow made him seem even more princely than before.
"If anyone was to forget someone, I'd imagine it'd be you forgetting me," you teased, smiling at his exaggerated gasp of shock.
"Me? Forget my favourite visitor? Never. I'm appalled to hear you think so poorly of me."
You raised an eyebrow. "Favourite, hm? Interesting—" Before you could finish speaking, Milo stepped closer, raising a gentle hand toward your eyebrow and subsequently robbing you of your voice.
"What's this?" His thumb gently grazed over a small cut you'd sustained during your last job. It wasn't anything fatal nor did it hurt anymore, but the remnants still remained as it hadn't quite healed. You playfully swatted away his hand, putting a few steps between you both.
"Nothing you should be concerned with. Plenty more where that came from."
"That does not instil me with a great deal of confidence." His voice was deadpan once more, the slight hint of alarm having now dissipated. Despite the distance you'd put between the both of you, the air felt heavier and warmer than usual. Had it really been so long since you last saw him? And had that time somehow made him seem even more beautiful? Maybe it was just the lack of charcoal and dust that made Milo's appearance that bit more striking than usual.
"At least let me take a closer look," he murmured, eyes diverted from your gaze as a rare quietness seeped into his voice. You nodded, sucking in a breath as you stepped toward you, cautiously inspecting the minor wound. Seeming satisfied that you weren't at risk of toppling over, Milo removed his hands but didn't move away.
"Any other injuries I should know about? Aches or bruises to tend to?"
You hesitated for a moment, contemplating if you should answer honestly or not. There was a stubborn ache in your ankle that had worsened in recent days. That slight hesitation was enough to give Milo his answer. He sighed, taking your wrist gently in his grip and leading over to a workbench and sitting you down with a stern look on his face. "Where." It wasn't even a question, more of a demand than anything. Still, you didn't object nor deny its presence and silently held up your ankle. Milo was careful in his ministrations, making sure not to aggravate whatever ailed you and halting his movements whenever you made any noise to signal discomfort.
"Hope you don't have some fancy event in the capital planned because this ankle looks sprained to me. Granted I'm no doctor, but I'm still prescribing you a week or two of rest. At least. Definitely no adventuring for a while." Milo looked up at you, almost waiting for you to argue that you'd be fine or that you couldn't pass up on an important client. Any other time you might have done so. Might have protested that your horse could carry you with little need to use your injured ankle. But this time you knew it could wait.
"Then it's a good job I'm on break. Indefinitely. Well, not quite indefinitely, but at least until I feel like going off adventuring again. Think there's somewhere in town for me to stay?"
Milo offered a rare, genuine smile, one that he'd kept for himself after your past visits. He rose from his stool to sit beside you, eyes fixed on yours as he took your hands in his. Everything about his movements was gentle and soft, entirely removed from the usual strength of his smithing work. He reached a hand your cheek, smile still lighting his face as he whispered, "I think I might know someone."
blacksmith milo many thoughts head so full. this has been floating around in my brain for like a month it's been agony in all the best ways. throwback to playing l4d2 in vc and going wild over blacksmith milo crumbs. anyway it was so powerful i had to go and make it a reality if only to stop the screaming in my brain. milo with his hair tied back and sleeves rolled up......sensational. mc is a travelling mercenary currently between jobs and they've just arrived in a town nearby the capital. before going on to find work, they come across a blacksmith with a face far too pretty to be anything other than some rich noble's son. the two get talking and the rest is history.
A gentle pattering of rain thrummed rhythmically against the deep green hood of your cloak. Since reaching the northern lands of the capital, the climate had shifted drastically from the generous sunshine of the southern desert. Even the town's cottages and taverns looked as gloomy as the skies above, thatched roofs one bad thunderstorm away from falling apart. Coming here directly after weeks of watching the sun reflect off crystal windows and sprawling oases was like being doused in ice water. Almost quite literally, given the light downpour that only seemed to worsen with every step your horse took down the muddied path. The sun was nowhere to be seen despite the early afternoon hour, hidden behind knitted clouds so heavy and grey they looked almost ready to burst. You hoped to find the local blacksmith's soon if only to find cover from the inevitable impending storm. There was also the matter of your sword's blade growing appallingly dull; if you didn't get it tended to soon you'd barely be able to cut a loose thread from your tunic.
It seemed fate was on your side today, the familiar sound of iron against steel like a metronome leading the chorus of town life. Tucked away just behind an inn was a blacksmith's workshop. The exterior looked a little more lively than the rest of the town's infrastructure, as though its owner had taken extra care to keep it in optimal condition during the harsher weathers. An orange glow from the fiery furnaces came from the open doorway, letting out a mild warmth to fight against the cold rain. Luckily for your horse, there was an awning canopy sheltering the side of the workshop complete with a water trough and a place to tie their reins. As you made your way inside removing the dampened cloak hood you were met with the sight of who you presumed owned the place. He seemed tall even when leaning over the anvil to inspect his work. His long hair was pulled back and tied with a strip of leather loosely atop his head. His sleeves were rolled back to reveal his forearms, no doubt in part to combat the raging heat of the furnace. Surveying the room was enough to tell you that he was no beginner to his trade. It may have been a small workshop, fitting for a small town you supposed, but it was cosy. The place was lit with amber lanterns, their warm light reflected in the metal sheen of swords and axes and shields. He just might sell his stock on to the capital judging by the sheer quality of it all. It seemed you'd struck gold coming across this small rural town.
Your fingers chimed the small bell sitting on the desk by the entrance, its tinny ring echoing against the walls. The blacksmith turned, seemingly surprised to hear a visitor. Whoever this man was, he was no ordinary blacksmith. Most held rugged faces, worn with age and wizened under the roaring heat of constant fire. No, this man looked more like a rich noble's son who'd been deposited in some poor, desolate town as punishment for mistreating one too many maids. His eyes were a rich purple and his skin surprisingly held a gentle tan, clear and smooth save for a few stray swipes of coal from where his fingers had brushed loose strands of hair away from his face. The man could only be described as pretty—beautiful even. Certainly a rare trait for one in such a profession, at least as far as you had encountered. Still, even if he did not quite look the part, his handiwork was enough to tell you he was no beginner. Even the small blade he held looked far more ornate and well-made than some of your own back home.
"Afternoon," he called out, setting aside his current project and pushing his hair back from his face, smearing another streak of charcoal across his forehead. It took a great deal of self-restraint to not let slip a bemused smile.
"Afternoon. I assume you're the one to go to for sharpening weapons?" You asked, removing the scabbard from your waist and setting it atop the counter.
The blacksmith didn't crack a smile, unwilling to put on the pretences most tradespeople offered visitors. "About the only one in town who knows how to hold one of these, let alone sharpen one. Just passing through?"
"On my way to the capital. Although I shall likely have to extend my stay if the weather doesn't ease up. Is it usually this dreary around here?" You leaned against the counter, watching as the blacksmith took your sword to the whetstone, hands working deftly to sharpen the steel. He was sat directly under a lantern, using the light to inspect his handiwork every few moments. His focus was as razor sharp as your blade's edge was soon to be, taking utmost care to ensure no room for mistakes.
"If you're planning to wait for the rain to clear then you might as well move here. No getting to the capital until a day or two in the summer season when the sun deigns to make a rare appearance."
You grimaced, chin resting on your hand. You'd thought as much but the confirmation was not on your list of favourite things to hear. It seemed you had a long, and damp, journey ahead of you yet. Today might be a choice day to invest in another spare cloak. One that was perhaps a tad more waterproof that what you currently wore.
"Anything else you need sharpening up? Low on arrows, maybe? Got plenty of stock so feel free to take your time. Stay out of the rain a little longer." You were not one to spit in the face of opportunity, especially given the bonus pay you'd received from your previous employer. So you went and retrieved your reserve weapons from the shelter in which you'd left your horse and offered them up to the blacksmith whose name, as you'd learnt, was Milo. Surprisingly, he made for rather pleasant conversation, asking after your line of work and where you'd travelled from. In response, he'd offered up a chapter or two of his own story. He'd been born and raised in the small town to grocer parents but had spent most of his time in the local blacksmith's workshop, bothering him with all sorts of questions about everything had worked until the old man had taken him on as an apprentice. Once he was old enough, Milo was taking requests and eventually took over the business once his boss was too old to work as proficiently as he once had. Since then he primarily did business with palace officials, supplying new stock and revitalising damaged weapons and materials.
As the day drew to a close, the sky somehow turning darker, you pulled yourself away from the workshop and its rather pleasant company. You'd tossed a few silvers onto the counter, leaving an extra as payment for the afternoon shelter despite Milo's protests. He had been in the middle of forging a formerly broken sword and couldn't pull himself away to try and refund some of your coin. When you peered through the window, Milo was shaking his head as he returned to his work, a whisper of a smile tugging at his lips. The first and only one you'd seen from him all day, no doubt because he believed no one could see. Still, it warmed you inside to know he had not thought of your presence as a complete bother.
After leaving town, it became a somewhat regular routine to revisit that little rural town whenever your travel plans allowed it. Every time, without fail, you'd spend a day sat inside the workshop, telling Milo all of your ventures to various corners of the realm. In turn, he'd tell you of the local goings on, most of it trivial and uninteresting in his eyes but the normality of it all was a welcome change of pace for you. Hearing about the friendly competition between the various townsmen or other affairs that took place was a far cry from the types of jobs you were taking on, leading you to all sorts of unsavoury characters hiding in dark places. Spending that time with Milo was a highlight of your journeying, even if those visits were few and far between. He would always welcome you in and offer up a seat in the workshop, sometimes even volunteering to cook a hot meal. He was a rare constant in the ever changing routine of your life and at some point along the way you began to wonder what life might look like if you had a more permanent place in town, as opposed to your constant moving from place-to-place with each job that came your way. It was easy to let your mind wander in the silence of solitude that your travels offered, daydreaming of scenes of you and Milo where you could greet each other whenever the desire struck, rather than waiting weeks or months for a job that sent you in that direction. Whether he wondered of the same or not was a complete mystery.
Despite the growing closeness between the both of you, Milo remained a mostly closed book, keeping his innermost feelings to himself. Any time you mentioned in passing that you had missed his company, Milo would merely hum in acknowledgement and not offer up his own feelings on the matter. If you tried to press for more of an answer, he'd change the subject or make a teasing remark about how you were growing attached. In spite of his apparent disdain for sentimental comments, Milo would always be trying, and failing, to suppress a smile that suggested he was not quite as emotionally guarded as he pretended to be. Usually you'd let it pass without acknowledgement, but it was rather satisfying to watch him scramble for a response that didn't implicate himself for enjoying your company.
As time passed by, it had been a good many months since your last visit to that little workshop. Circumstance had kept you away and busy with a larger job than usual from your latest client. It had been so brutal that you were already planning a few weeks of rest before taking on another job if only to recover from the various aches and pains you'd acquired along the way. Even if they were only minor injuries you felt deeply in need of a good long rest. Thankfully, as fate would have it, you were coming to the end of this particularly gruelling job and the end was on the horizon along with your long-awaited freedom. And with that oncoming freedom you intended to make your way toward that same old town. Naturally, by the time you reached its borders, the skies grew gradually more grey and bleak as though there was some vengeful god overlooking the people and deciding the enact their frustrations in the form of dull weather. Still, it wouldn't feel the same without the sharp winds and constant threat of rain at all times.
As the workshop came into view, you could feel all the tensions that the last months of work had instilled within your body evaporate as if by magic. Dismounting and walking into the familiar wall of warmth felt like it took hours, the anticipation of seeing Milo again building with each breath. But as you breached the threshold of the doorway, you were met with an empty workshop with no blacksmith in sight. There were signs of half-finished projects lying on the wooden benches and the fires of the furnace were still keeping the place enveloped in its usual heat but Milo was nowhere to be seen. It was hard to ignore the sting of disappointment that you had missed him. He was unlikely to be too far but there was always the chance Milo was away in the capital delivering his latest assignments. Still, it wasn't as if missing him today would mean you had to wait another number of weeks. You could easily return in a few days now that you had a moment's peace to breathe before continuing on to the next place. Sighing to yourself, you made to turn for the door when a familiar voice struck your ears.
"Long time no see. There was me starting to get worried you'd forgotten all about me." Milo was stood in the workshop's entrance, carrying a large box filled with materials. He set the box down and stood with one hand leaning against the counter while the other sat on his waist. His hair was loose over his shoulders, a rare sight given his usual spot by the furnace, but it suited him. Somehow made him seem even more princely than before.
"If anyone was to forget someone, I'd imagine it'd be you forgetting me," you teased, smiling at his exaggerated gasp of shock.
"Me? Forget my favourite visitor? Never. I'm appalled to hear you think so poorly of me."
You raised an eyebrow. "Favourite, hm? Interesting—" Before you could finish speaking, Milo stepped closer, raising a gentle hand toward your eyebrow and subsequently robbing you of your voice.
"What's this?" His thumb gently grazed over a small cut you'd sustained during your last job. It wasn't anything fatal nor did it hurt anymore, but the remnants still remained as it hadn't quite healed. You playfully swatted away his hand, putting a few steps between you both.
"Nothing you should be concerned with. Plenty more where that came from."
"That does not instil me with a great deal of confidence." His voice was deadpan once more, the slight hint of alarm having now dissipated. Despite the distance you'd put between the both of you, the air felt heavier and warmer than usual. Had it really been so long since you last saw him? And had that time somehow made him seem even more beautiful? Maybe it was just the lack of charcoal and dust that made Milo's appearance that bit more striking than usual.
"At least let me take a closer look," he murmured, eyes diverted from your gaze as a rare quietness seeped into his voice. You nodded, sucking in a breath as you stepped toward you, cautiously inspecting the minor wound. Seeming satisfied that you weren't at risk of toppling over, Milo removed his hands but didn't move away.
"Any other injuries I should know about? Aches or bruises to tend to?"
You hesitated for a moment, contemplating if you should answer honestly or not. There was a stubborn ache in your ankle that had worsened in recent days. That slight hesitation was enough to give Milo his answer. He sighed, taking your wrist gently in his grip and leading over to a workbench and sitting you down with a stern look on his face. "Where." It wasn't even a question, more of a demand than anything. Still, you didn't object nor deny its presence and silently held up your ankle. Milo was careful in his ministrations, making sure not to aggravate whatever ailed you and halting his movements whenever you made any noise to signal discomfort.
"Hope you don't have some fancy event in the capital planned because this ankle looks sprained to me. Granted I'm no doctor, but I'm still prescribing you a week or two of rest. At least. Definitely no adventuring for a while." Milo looked up at you, almost waiting for you to argue that you'd be fine or that you couldn't pass up on an important client. Any other time you might have done so. Might have protested that your horse could carry you with little need to use your injured ankle. But this time you knew it could wait.
"Then it's a good job I'm on break. Indefinitely. Well, not quite indefinitely, but at least until I feel like going off adventuring again. Think there's somewhere in town for me to stay?"
Milo offered a rare, genuine smile, one that he'd kept for himself after your past visits. He rose from his stool to sit beside you, eyes fixed on yours as he took your hands in his. Everything about his movements was gentle and soft, entirely removed from the usual strength of his smithing work. He reached a hand your cheek, smile still lighting his face as he whispered, "I think I might know someone."
hi hello this is my formal application to join the vampire diluc enjoyers club. i love vampires and i love diluc. putting the two together is just recipe for a breakdown of the greatest proportions (in a good way). so enjoy the result of my brain exploding over my keyboard and manifesting the exact brand of hurt/comfort, mildly angsty diluc that i need in these desperate times. also secret pining and slowly building tension that is so palpable you can feel it deep in every corner of your brain. bc it's tasty. anyway enjoy the vampire diluc goodness bc wowie i need to take a minute after this. cw for blood and injury and the usual vampire behaviours!
When adventuring in unfamiliar territory, one must always pay close mind to their surroundings and take note of any nearby points of interest. A small town, a lone cottage, anything that signified safety and civilisation. If you became too complacent, there was no telling who or what you might stumble upon along your travels, or the danger they might possess. Such a reality came to fruition during your ventures through the lands of Mondstadt. You, a lone adventurer out in the world with little but the clothes on your back and some quickly dwindling supplies. The experience had been mostly peaceful, your lack of companionship offering a quietness that kept you safe from imminent harm. That was, however, until you happened across a band of Treasure Hoarders making your way toward Springvale. Trying to fend them off had proved difficult considering you were wildly outnumbered. Treasure Hoarders weren't known for their amicable dispositions nor their willingness to leave a lone stranger who happened upon their camp unscathed. One glance at the stack of treasures they'd undoubtedly stolen and your fate was sealed—they hadn't killed you at least, but remaining alive meant little when your body was so battered and broken in their wake. They'd left plenty of deep cuts and scratches along with an array of purplish bruises where their fists had struck true. The worst of all your injuries, however, was the small throwing knife lodged in the side of your knee and the sprained ankle that swiftly followed when you collided with the ground. They'd left you alone after that, tossing your aching body back onto the dirt road before laughing amongst themselves and returning to the warm air of their campfire. Laughter had never sparked such a furious rage in your chest than in that very moment. But what could you do? There was no one else around to come to your aid, nor could you fight them off in your condition. To attempt such an endeavour would only guarantee your death. And so all that you could do was muster up enough strength to rise to your feet and find shelter of some kind. Anything was better than laying in the road and risking the Treasure Hoarders return for a second round.
Walking blindly along, gait unsteady and slow, the sprain in your ankle soon began to feel more like a fracture. The uneven ground along with the tiredness that seeped in your bones made you feel weak beyond belief. To think just one chance encounter would upend your travels so drastically was beyond prediction. And yet, here you were, making your way through the wilds in search of any sign of help. That was when you emerged from a forested clearing and caught sight of a mansion of sorts sitting in the sprawling hills of its surrounding landscape. There was no sign of it being occupied yet it had not fallen into a state of disrepair. Someone must tend to the area else it wouldn't look so invitingly pristine. But even as you neared the stone steps leading up onto the mansion's grounds, there were no maids nor groundskeepers in sight. All that stood was a towering building of unbelievable proportions compared to the homely cottages and makeshift campsites you'd come across since first reaching Mondstadt. Judging by the rows of grapes that lined the mansion's perimeter, the master of the house, whoever that may be, ran some sort of establishment that dealt with wines. That, or he just rather quite liked grapes. Either way, whoever resided here was your only chance at securing a safe place to rest your head until you could make a full recovery. Or, at least, recover enough to head out for Springvale and onto the City of Freedom itself.
When you reached the heavy wooden doors, it took almost all of your remaining energy to knock hard enough to be heard from inside the mansion. Agonising seconds passed, each moment that you remained alone weighing heavier and heavier on your shoulders. Was there even anyone in there to hear the desperate call for help in your weakened knock? Would they even care to aid a lone adventurer who had trespassed onto their land? Question and doubt plagued you as you stood staring at the stillness of the doors, what small semblance of hope they had granted now beginning to rapidly fade away. Just as that flickering flame was about to extinguish itself, a loud creaking sounded as the doors opened a crack. Anticipation rose at the thought as the mansion's occupant made themself known. Standing before you was a man with hair that could only be described as flame red. His hair tumbled over his shoulders in curled waves that shone even bright in the moonlight. He wore a white linen blouse, framed by a long, dark jacket that lay slightly crooked on his body—perhaps the only sign of dishevelment upon his entire being. The top button of his blouse was undone, revealing a small triangle of his pale complexion. His skin was so clear it seemed almost iridescent under the moon's opaline light. Something about him was hauntingly beautiful, down to the dark amber of his eyes and the almost scowl that failed to mar his grievous beauty. In your distraction, you barely noticed how his eyes trailed every inch of you searching for something in your clothes that might identify who had approached his home. Even after registering his intrigue, it took a moment to come to your senses, realising this mysterious man was waiting for you to offer some explanation as to your arrival.
"I apologise for disturbing you so late, sir. I ran into some trouble with a band of Treasure Hoarders and don't have the strength to get myself to safety. If it isn't too much trouble, might I rest here for the night?"
He remained silent as he examined your condition, gaze settling on the throwing knife that remained lodged in your skin. Safer to keep it there than risk bleeding out. Something in his stance shifted, his nose crinkling for a fraction of a second before he opened the door further and gestured for you to enter. What lay before your eyes only heightened your curiosity. Despite the grounds being empty, you had expected to see at least a few members of staff walking about the place, dusting off bookshelves or fetching the master a late night beverage. But there was nothing of the sort in sight. Instead, you were greeted with an open room decorated with the finest opulence—evidence of your host's wealth. This man you had happened upon and his home were most unusual, and yet you couldn't stave off the intrigue that tingled each of your senses, whispering in your ear how you mustn't run. It was so invitingly warm compared to the howling winds; a beaconing safe haven you couldn't possibly walk away from even if your injuries weren't preventing you from doing so.
Your host directed you toward a pair of cushioned sofas, having closed the heavy doors with ease. For a man so draped in elegance, he was certainly stronger than he seemed. Even the way he walked was captivating, as though each and every step was perfectly calculated and orchestrated so that he always presented an image of divine excellence. So much of him seemed to embody a sense of refinement that could capture and control a room with a mere glance. This was not some ordinary businessman residing in these walls.
"Here. Take a seat while I see what supplies I have." He was certainly a man of few words, though you couldn't fathom why when his voice sounded so velvet smooth. There was something otherworldly in the way he spoke, as though he did not truly belong here. Was this perhaps just an affectation of the countrymen in Mondstadt? There was no use dwelling on who your host might be, names and history of the nation all too unknown to mean little more than idle chatter to you. Still, there was always the chance he might indulge the questions swarming your mind. When he returned, apologising for the wait, he kneeled down to tend to the worst of your injuries. Namely the wound from the throwing knife that throbbed with each minute movement of your leg. He was careful not to aggravate the spot too much, carefully removing it and tossing the blade aside once it was finally free. A large, yet cool, hand pressed gauze against the now open wound. The pressure was uncomfortable, but a necessary price to pay for the reward of recovery.
"You're lucky you came here. Not everyone would know or possess the materials to close this wound of yours." His eyes met yours, candlelight reflecting in the deep colour of his irises. Before they had looked almost brown but the soft golden glow illuminating this corner of the room was enough to show their true colour—whorls of gold embedded among amber. He soon averted his gaze to focus on your injuries, leaving you mildly dazed from how you reeled at the short moments of eye contact. It felt like it lasted far longer than it had.
"Then it's a good job I found your home, isn't it?" You offered a smile, hoping that even a fraction of your gratitude came across in the gesture. A whispering echo of his own smile twitched in his lips as he remained focused on your leg. The pain had dulled somewhat, though the discomfort still remained, but it was nothing you couldn't endure. You let your eyes wander, surveying the room around you while your host stitched the wound back together. It was then that you began to notice the signs of his solitude; stacks of books were piled on the floors, a thin veneer of dust covering the leatherbound volumes. They looked old even ignoring their dusty state and how the pages had yellowed with age. In fact everything around you seemed a little too old fashioned to be considered coincidence. Perhaps he had inherited the mansion from family and simply hadn't bothered to redecorate? There was no telling just what secrets might lie in the cracks and crevices of this aged mansion or the man inhabiting it. Still, it wasn't as if you planned to stay for too much longer so no doubt all those mysteries would remain buried in the walls for as long as he willed them to.
By the time he had finished stitching your wound and tending to your ankle which, as luck would have it, had indeed worsened to a fracture, you could feel sleep tugging at every extremity in your body. The pain was not a distant echo though you still felt rather fragile as you lay back on the cushions. Your host and healer had not long left to discard the now-used materials. He had remained quiet for the most part, only offering small warnings to prepare for a spike of pain. Everything about him, his name included, was shrouded in mystery and there was nothing you longed for more than to pull back the curtain concealing so much of himself from your gaze. When he returned, you barely registered his voice in your ears as sleep crept closer and closer.
"Luckily for you I have a spare room in suitable condition for a guest. Your ankle will need some time to heal so I'm afraid you might need to stay here longer than you intended." You mumbled out a mostly incoherent reply, falling unconscious shortly after a pair of strong arms lifted you from the sofa and carried you away while sleep took its hold.
The following day sunlight poured over your skin, gently waking you in an unfamiliar room. You were laying in a large bed wearing clothes you didn't recognise. The room was not overly decorated, though it wasn't too minimalist either; a bookshelf piled high sat along the back wall and there was a set of drawers beneath the open window and a flowerpot nestled in the middle, its leaves gently moving in the breeze. The air was fresh and invigorating, slowly pulling you out of the hazy drowsiness of your slumber. Memories of the previous night were a slight bit too far out of your grasp, as though a film of fog was clouding the snapshot pictures of all you saw. It was only as you slowly found consciousness and energy creeping back, along with the persisting aches, that everything settled in your mind. You'd been badly injured, stumbled upon an almost uninhabited manor and found yourself in the care of an unknown lord. It almost sounded too fantastical to be real but the sudden knock at the door and immediate entrance of your host proved this was not some elaborate dream you'd manifested while asleep.
"Ah, you're awake. How do you feel?" He carried a tray in hand, laden with food and some water.
"Sore. But good. What time is it?" One bite was enough to make you realise just how much you needed this meal.
"Early afternoon. You're a heavy sleeper." His lips upturned in a small smile as he perched at the foot of the bed. Today he looked more prepared for guests than the previous night. The deep maroon of his corset only accentuated the brightness of his hair and he seemed a fraction more composed than when he'd first laid eyes on you. A moment passed when the state of your undress registered in your mind, warming your cheeks as you tried to sit up despite the persistent twinge of pain striking your leg.
"Ah, ah. None of that. I'm prescribing you a few days of bedrest. Your ankle is in rather poor condition and I'd rather not have you become a permanent resident in my home for it."
Worry that you might be imposing began to rise. The last thing you wanted was to be bothersome or interrupt any plans he might have had.
He held out a hand, as if sensing your inner turmoil. "Your face is an open book. Relax. I'd rather see you fully healed than send you away into danger. I live alone here so the company might be rather pleasant for a time. Still, I do not wish to rob you of your independence so I intend to arrange for a walking aid so that you can venture the manor at your leisure. Until then I ask that you remain in here."
You nodded, accepting that the both of you had little choice in the matter. After all, you did come to Mondstadt with the intention of seeking adventure and new sights. This was just another chapter, one that was entirely unplanned and unexpected, but an adventure all the same. Over the following week you found yourself growing closer to the man who'd aided you. Diluc, you'd learnt was his name, was a private man, only offering small titbits of himself whenever you asked. He was most amicable in the evenings, frequently joining you upon your request to read under the waning remnants of sunlight. It was then you'd learnt about his lucrative wine business, something he'd inherited from family though he had divulged no more than that. Where his family was now you could only assume from the pained crease in his brow that the story was not one that possessed a happy ending. Much of Diluc's existence seemed to suggest his was a life of difficulty despite the lavish furnishings of his home. Even a wealthy estate felt barren if you were the only one to occupy it.
In spite of how fond you had grown of Diluc, much of him was still shrouded in mystery. Even his day-to-day routine sparkled ounces of curiosity within you—specifically because you were privy to so little of it. Even after acquiring a walking aid and gaining access to the manor in its entirety, you still felt as though you barely knew the man hosting you. He'd served your meals while bedridden but had encouraged you to help yourself to all the supplies in his pantry and inform him of anything else you might need. Yet you had never seen him eat. If ever you commented, he would reassure you not to worry and would swiftly change the subject; if he wasn't an expert at diverting conversation before, he certainly was now. And it wasn't just around eating, Diluc would also dismiss any and all inquiries about his sleeping schedule. Whenever you rose in the morning, Diluc would be about the mansion having already started his day. And come evening time when you were fighting to stave off sleepy yawns. Diluc seemed to possess just as much energy as he did in the mornings. Perhaps he fuelled himself on an abundance of coffee, but you had yet to see him take even a sip of the stuff. There was also the fact you could have sworn you heard him leaving the manor late at night. Maybe it was just the sound of the wind, but it sounded a little too loud even for the sweeping winds of Mondstadt. Diluc's evasive nature and his perplexing schedule certainly explained the ghostly paleness of his complexion but a small voice in the back of your mind whispered that there was something else. Something that he was so deftly hiding from you that was just out of reach. Perhaps if you reached a little further, you could grasp the truth in your hands.
Such a moment came in the dead of night, the sky an abyssal pool of oblivion black with its smattering of stars. Even blanketed in darkness, you could just about make out the peak of Dragonspine looming in the heights of the horizon. It was truly a sight to behold under night's comforting silence. Still, as beautiful as the night's scenery was, you longed to be tucked away in bed and dreaming of far off places. But in spite of the tiredness clinging to your person, such respite still would not come. It was as though there was some pervasive force impeding your conscious thoughts, luring you toward the answer to a question you didn't realise you'd asked. Restlessness had you fumbling your way in the dark through the house, now much more accustomed to your walking aids as your ankle slowly healed. Silence consumed the manor, even more so than usual. The unsettling feeling accompanying the darkness soon ebbed at the faint glow from behind a closed door. Diluc was still awake. Not bothering to knock, you gently pushed the door into the kitchen open. Diluc was leaning against the counter, blood staining his clothes. Fear sank deep under your skin, propelling you close to him in an urgent need to ensure he was okay. Your walking aids were abandoned, your weight causing a dull throb in your ankle but that was of little importance. His coat had been tossed beside him, blood staining the beige material though it paled in comparison to the starkness of the deep crimson against the crisp white of his linen shirt.
"What happened. Are you okay?" Your words were frantic, worry and concern taking over ever rational thought in your body. Your shaking hands fumbled with the buttons on his shirt, only able to unfasten two before Diluc's hand covered them. The porcelain of his chest revealed no sign of injury. But the blood must have come from somewhere. He placed a hand on your shoulder, his touch gentle and any trace of his initial alarm fading away into acceptance for the situation he now found himself in.
"I'm fine. The blood isn't mine. You should be more concerned for that ankle. I am not worth risking yourself over." He stepped out of your grasp to retrieve what you had forgotten, only speaking again once you had taken the weight off your injury. Looking into his eyes, you thought there was something like regret there, as though he'd made some grievous mistake that had finally caught up on him.
"What do you mean it isn't yours? Whose is it? Where have you even been this late at night. Diluc, I—I don't understand what's going on here."
He was quiet, hesitance clinging to the crease in his brow as he weighed his options. "That is not your concern. My business is my own."
"Not my concern? I have put my trust in you. Stayed in your home when I had no other choice. I have put my life in your hands and suddenly your whereabouts are not my concern? Surely you are not so brazen as to think I would accept that?"
"It isn't so simple—"
"No, Diluc. No. I'm not accepting that. I've overlooked a lot of strangeness going on here and I think I'm due some kind of explanation. You barely seem to sleep, you never eat around me, you seem to be awake at all hours. Then you leave in the middle of the night and come home covered in blood that you claim isn't your own. What are you, some sort of vampire?" You had intended your final comment as an incredulous joke to demonstrate the absurdity of all that seemed to be going on at Dawn Winery. Yet, Diluc's expression turned dark as if some deplorable secret had been unearthed and laid bare in the candlelit glow of the kitchen.
"Diluc. Now is not the time for morbid jokes."
"I have never been more serious." His face certainly seemed to reflect his words.
A mangled concoction of confusion and fear bubbled its way up to your throat, stealing any and all words that might have tried to leave. Surely not. Surely this was all some elaborate joke Diluc was pulling and he was about to laugh it off and assure you that all this talk of vampires was nonsensical. But he didn't. He remained quiet and stoic, waiting for you to make the next move.
"But...No...What?" The world felt as though it was shifting around you as every moment of your time with Diluc replayed in your mind's eye. Diluc's apparent confession to being a vampire certainly explained a lot of things, but how could it be true? Vampires were in books and children's tales, not real life. Yet, it was also the only plausible and logical explanation for Diluc's bizarre living situation.
"I need a moment. A few moments, actually. Sorry. This is a lot of take in."
Diluc laid a reassuring hand on your wrist. "Please, take some rest. But know that I do not wish your harm, nor do I wish to take advantage of this situation. You may not believe this right now, but you can trust me."
You offered a meek nod, taking your leave of the kitchen to return to your own room and let sleep carry you away. You wanted to believe his words. A small part of you did. But a larger part was overwhelmed by it all. Vampires truly existed? Was this why Diluc lived alone in the manor? To hide his secret and keep innocent bystanders from harm? But then, how did he sustain himself? In all the stories, vampires did not eat as humans did. A shudder shot through you at the thought before your eyelids grew heavy and sleep finally washed over you.
Over the coming days, Diluc kept his distance. It was evident he was waiting for you to initiate conversation, letting you come to terms with the revelation of his vampiric status. It somehow felt as though it were both real and a fabrication of Diluc's invention. Still, even if it didn't feel entirely real, you missed Diluc's companionship. In the time you'd spent living with him, you'd grown fond of the man and that fact had not changed. So you tentatively took those extra steps to return to normality. You would take a seat beside him, bringing up some story of your time growing up to which Diluc would respond with a story of his own. Somehow it was as if a barrier had come down. The restraint and caution of secrecy that once shackled Diluc was no longer present, so now he could indulge in stories of his childhood, his former self. He was far from an open book, of course, but there was something softer about the way he spoke. As if he finally felt comfortable. As if he no longer had to hide who he was. He would answer your questions, entertaining the fantastical stereotypes with teasing remarks. It wasn't long before things felt normal again, or rather, felt better than normal. He no longer felt out of reach, but rather like someone you could bond with on a much deeper level. It was nice. There was still much about Diluc that remained a total mystery, but more so than ever you hoped to crack what remained of his exterior. Even if it took weeks, months, however long Diluc needed to shed what remained of his apprehensions. Thoughts of what might happen once your ankle fully healed were a muted whisper in the back of your mind, so miniscule you'd barely even considered that future. Living in the present was so much more exciting, after all.
One evening you and Diluc were sat together before the crackling warmth of the fireplace. The sun had long since set and the only light in the room was that of the fire and the candles dotted about the room. A gentle cosiness wrapped like a blanket around you, leaving you content and satisfied. Diluc was reading from a book he'd bought while out earlier that day. He'd been doing some business related to the Winery, though had spared you of the boring details that came with manufacturing and distributing wines. Diluc had told you of the tavern his family used to run and the commerce that made it flourish but upon his becoming a vampire he lost almost all interest in keeping the business running. He'd sold the place off to the highest bidder and become somewhat of a recluse in the manor, only keeping the supply of wine going so as not to rouse attention from the city folk. It was a quiet existence he'd sought out and a quiet existence he'd received in return.
"Can I ask a question?"
Diluc didn't lift an eye from his page as he answered, "You just did."
Huffing a sigh, you moved to lower his book and force his attention on you. "Your jokes are as dull as your taste in literature. But I'm going to take that as a yes. How averse are you to answering questions about how vampires, um, feed?"
"Don't tell me you're getting ideas." Diluc's voice rang with amusement, but he placed the book down to give you his full attention. "I'm afraid I can't answer as in-depth as you might like. I've never met another vampire. The one who created me barely stuck around long enough to witness my full transformation let alone answer any questions I might have had."
"Then, how does it work? Do you use human vessels or...?"
"Vessels? You make it sound as though I have some poor human sequestered to my basement for regular mealtimes."
"I don't know how it works, maybe you do. Who knows what you get up to in the dead of night."
Diluc's laugh was melodic, his head tipping back into the cushion of the sofa, his hair spilling like wildfire. "No human vessels. I actually make a point not to drink human blood. Not unless absolutely necessary." Diluc paused for a moment, sensing your earnest desire to pry further. He sighed, preparing himself to lay bare parts of himself he'd kept locked away from all eyes—except yours. "Not long after I was turned, I learned that drinking the blood of animals was enough to keep the agony of hunger at bay. It does not satiate like human blood does, but it is enough to sustain oneself for a good long while. I enjoy it that way."
"Have you ever drank from a human before?"
"Yes. Only a few times. The first, I would rather not discuss. It was a moment of blinded thirst that consumed every rational thought and bone in my body. I had no control and did things I wish to forget. Since then I have restrained as much as my body will allow." His eyes seemed to grow colder at the mention of his first taste of human blood, a distant echo of pain misting over the amber hue and turning them mute. He did not explain further, nor did he need to. There was a reason he had no family, and you could sense from the roiling anguish that it was not unconnected.
"Since then it has only been once or twice when I couldn't bare the pain any longer."
You edged a little closer, reaching a hand to cover his so that he knew you weren't afraid. The last thing you wanted was for him to back away from such a vulnerable state of being and recede into the iron shell he'd once donned. "Would you ever consider it? If someone were to offer?"
He shook his head. "I'm not sure that I could. It has always been this necessary evil so to indulge in a way that suggested a choice feels far too close. Too intimate." The way he whispered sent goosebumps shivering over your skin. The air was thick with a tension so palpable you swore you could see it. Could touch it. "I don't wish to forget that part of myself. It serves as a reminder of who I am—what I am. Dangerous. I am no longer human and I must live with that for the rest of eternity."
"Perhaps. But that does not mean you have committed some egregious sin for which you must atone. This was not your choice. You had this life thrust upon you with no warning nor guidance, Diluc. There is need to punish yourself for that."
His laugh was cold, lacking any respect or sympathy for himself. "You only think that way because you believe I am still human in some way. You claim I have committed no sin but you have not seen all that I have done."
"You're right, I haven't. But all of that history, both good and bad, only makes me more certain." You reached to turn Diluc's face toward you. He seemed withdrawn, full to the brim with self-hatred and contempt. An anger burned within him, but it was all directed inward; none of it was for you. "To become a vampire does not erase the human life you led. Nor does it eradicate the humanity that guides your every choice. If you were so soulless you wouldn't have taken me in and helped me. You would have carried me over your doorstep and stolen what life I had left. But you didn't."
"Saving one human is hardly atonement," Diluc scoffed, eyes raging at he stared at nothing. There was a pain so deep and dark it cleaved your heart in two. Partially for the turmoil that plagued Diluc's every step but also for the inability to soothe even a small fraction of that everlasting despair. There were years of tumultuous agony raging behind Diluc's eyes, a pain that you couldn't touch nor take away no matter how much you wished to. Words of comfort felt far too insignificant, yet what else could you offer? This was hardly your field of expertise. Though that did not stop your wandering hands from taking his in their hold, a physical reminder that you were there and you were not afraid. No matter how Diluc lamented for his lacking humanity, you had no intention to leave his side. Your touch managed to pull Diluc away from his spiralling thoughts, his eyes fixed on yours, all anguish and pain. Though there was a rising warmth the moment your eyes met his, as if he could hear all the words you hadn't said. Could sense exactly how much you wished to help him, comfort him, in the same way he had helped you. Perhaps it was all futile. Perhaps it meant little in the grand scheme of things. But that was a distant thought, utterly meaningless as you sat in silence with Diluc's gaze searing your skin. In all the time you'd been staying at Dawn Winery, you'd grown close with him but this felt different. A sparking energy flowed through each of you, an electric current passing through the point where your hands met. It was almost a little too much.
As if reading those thoughts, or perhaps hearing your heartbeat quicken, Diluc cleared his throat and broke off that eye contact, removing his hands from yours in the process. It was like a bucket of ice water had been thrown over you, reality finally coming into focus again leaving only the tingling remnants that were the memories of his hands touching yours. He mentioned something about it getting late—empty words to excuse himself. You could only half hear him bidding you a good night as he left for his room. Your heart pounded in your ears as you sat in contemplation. You had learned much of Diluc's past tonight, had peered into the vast depths of his inner thoughts. There was so much left unspoken yet it was enough to piece together what had happened to him and what he had done to culminate in the tragedy that seemed to shadow him. There was also something else that had shifted that night. The scorching feel of his eyes on yours and the electricity that his touch brought. It brought about feelings you couldn't quite fathom nor fully comprehend, but they also brought with them a sense of excitement—a sense of anticipation for what the future might bring.
The following evening you were leaving your room to fetch a pot of tea to accompany you as you prepared to settle down for the night. Even with your injury healing as well as it was, you still required the walking aids to keep the weight from erasing all your progress. You'd grown rather deft with them, able to walk at a decent pace about the manor. But in spite of your adept control over them, fate had something else in mind as you walked down the stairs and caught the carpet, sending you off balance and about to fall down the remaining few steps. You braced for the impact of the hard wood floors but it never came. Instead, a warm pair of arms wrapped around your frame, holding you up and against Diluc's sturdy body. His eyes flashed with alarm, sudden worry for your wellbeing spurring his actions and keeping you held tightly against him. Words evaded you, unable to tear your eyes away from Diluc's face. It seemed he was just as entranced with the way his gaze flickered from your eyes to your lips. No words were uttered and yet his thoughts were as clear as the morning sky. Suddenly his lips crashed to yours, his last piece of self-restraint falling away as he pulled you even closer. Your walking aids fell to the ground, rendered completely useless as Diluc held you in his arms. His lips were warm, soft, and utterly irresistible. All the scary stories about a vampire's thrall were true. Perhaps not in the way they were intended to be, but there was no denying the spell Diluc had you under. Not that he was entirely ready to admit it, but Diluc was just as bewitched by you. Your presence, your touch. All of it was enchanting to him. He believed himself entirely undeserving of it, but he was also selfish. Giving up such a divine act was unthinkable.
Then your lips parted, breaths heavy and heated as your eyes met again. It had been easy to miss the building tension that had grown over your time with Diluc, but now that it had come crumbling down the absence felt stark. Suddenly everything didn't feel quite so muted, as though you were seeing in colour for the first time. Despite the clarity of the world around you, your thoughts felt clouded and hazy, distracted by the way Diluc's lips had melded so perfectly over yours. Something like fear rose in his eyes, scared he may have overstepped a line or acted out of turn. He was soon soothed by the hand that brushed his cheek, guiding him back to your lips in a fleeting kiss. It was all the sign he needed to kiss you again, deeper this time, exploring all that you offered to him. Then his hands were sweeping you up into his hold, carrying you back up the stairs you'd just walked down. But he did not make to return you to your room and instead carried you into his own bedroom. Your heart raced with each step that Diluc took, never having been inside before, but his smile was warm and comforting, erasing any nerves that threatened to pull you out of this infinitely seraphic moment. He was gentle as he placed you down before climbing up beside you. His arms cradled around your body, warm and inviting as he held you close, his lips leaving gentle kisses at your temple.
"Your heart is beating so fast," he mused, voice barely audible above a whisper despite being the only two people in a sizable radius.
"Perhaps that is because I have just been ravished by a vampire who then carried me off to his bed." You couldn't help the teasing laughs at the way Diluc froze, suddenly realising how his actions might be interpreted. His hands left your body, which now felt cold in his absence, as he sat up and started to move away before you reached out for him and pulled him back down.
"No. Stay," you murmured, guiding his hands back to wrap around you.
His porcelain skin remained its usual pale shade, but you knew his face would be a blushing inferno if it were capable. He stumbled over his words, struggling to regain his composure. "You should know my intentions were only pure."
"I trust you. Regardless of your intentions, I am grateful to be here. Even if only because you feel so warm."
Diluc's laugh was a welcome sound. "Then please, feel free to use me as you see fit. So long as you stay here for the night."
"I think I can grant that request. Since you asked so nicely."
"I am forever indebted to you," he said before bringing his lips to yours again. Something about the way he so confidently moved was enthralling. Diluc had truly ensnared you in every way, though the same could be said about your own hold over him.
"In all my years I have never felt so whole. I don't think I realised just how lonely this place was. Or how lonely I was. Until you. Thank you."
Taken aback by his sudden confession, you hesitated a moment. His fingers toyed with yours, admiring the way your hand fit against his as he waited for you to speak. "Somehow it almost feels like destiny. As if the gods were waiting for the exact moment to lead me here."
"Whether it was some god-given blessing or merely lady luck on our side, I will be eternally grateful." Silence descended upon the two of you, comfortable and cosy as you lay in each other's hold. Time felt as though it had frozen, bestowing you the chance to bathe in this bliss for as long as you desired. It was only the growing tiredness that proved the world was still turning even as you remained there.
"You know," you spoke between sleepy yawns. "I've been wondering about something. Do vampires sleep?"
Diluc chuckled, a low hum that made your heart skip a beat. "We can, though we have no need. It isn't quite like your human slumbers, but rather a meditative rest that does little more than clear the mind for a time. We can take periods of rest, though they usually last weeks or months, sometimes even years. They are not needed quite so frequently, nor am in desperate need. Besides, I have a human to care for." He stroked a gentle finger against your cheek, his touch feather light as if he was scared he might shatter the serene moment with anything stronger.
"Hm, most interesting."
"You sound like you're conducting a study." Diluc made to tease you a little more until you yawned again, sleep desperately calling for you. "Close your eyes. I won't leave your side."
"Promise?"
"Promise," he replied as your consciousness waned and the most peaceful sleep you'd perhaps ever had washed over you.
That night was not the last you spent with Diluc. In fact, it soon became rare to be apart from him when you slept. His presence brought a soothing peace to your nights, allowing you to rest even more soundly. Since that first night he'd started to open up bit-by-bit, letting you in to even more of his previous life, including his family. A raw pain would cloud his face each time he told you of his brother, Kaeya, and the memories they shared as children running about the winery. But he no longer shied away from the pain that reopening those old wounds brought and instead kept it on display for you to witness. He wasn't scared anymore to have someone see him for all that he is and was; wasn't scared to let you see every piece of his past no matter how light or dark. His soul was yours to hold and cherish. Even when the inevitable night came for Diluc to divulge the single most tragic event of his life, he did not falter nor hide away from you.
The sun was long gone beyond the horizon, and the night grew cold. You and Diluc were lounging together, reading in comfortable silence before you retired to bed, when a thought struck you suddenly.
"Diluc, when was the last time you fed?" He'd been keeping to the manor a lot more than before, only leaving for short excursions to purchase food. Since choosing to spend your nights together, Diluc hadn't once left in the middle of the night to quench his thirst. Going a few days without drinking blood was no trouble, but it was fast approaching two weeks since he'd last done so—unless he'd magically snuck away without you noticing somehow.
"Ah, it was...some weeks ago. But you needn't worry." Some weeks? Had it somehow been even longer than you thought?
"Needn't worry? I know better than to trust that. Aren't you hungry? Thirsty? Whatever the right word is."
Diluc chuckled, lowering his book to one side as he reached a gentle hand to caress your cheek. "I'm surviving, aren't I?"
"Talk to me, Diluc. I'm here."
Something in Diluc's expression shifted, acceptance sinking in as he took your hands in his. This was something he had wanted to share for some time but could never find the words nor a moment that felt right. It seemed you'd given him the perfect opportunity to take one more step into his past.
"On the night you arrived here, after I made sure you were comfortable and sleeping, I left to find those Treasure Hoarders that attacked you. I don't know what came over me, really. But I couldn't let them walk away unharmed after what they did to you. I only intended to scare them off but got a little...carried away. Long story short that was my first human blood in decades. I try to refrain because every time it sends me back to memories of the first time." Diluc paused, a look of anguish passing over his features. You gently squeezed his hands, a warm reminder that you were there and you were listening. Always.
Diluc took a calming breath before continuing, "It was so long ago now yet it feels like only yesterday. I had just been turned and the agony was blinding. I barely knew who I was, just that I needed to satiate the scorching pain in my throat. There was nothing human about me then. Not as I tore this manor apart. And the people in it. Even my—" Diluc winced at the sound of the memory leaving his lips, his eyes falling on a black eyepatch sitting atop the mantel. This was the secret he'd buried so deep and now someone finally knew his most grievous sin. "By the time I finally regained any sense of who I was, it was too late. Far too late. It took months to stop seeing their blood on every surface of this place. I could barely live with myself but how do you kill a vampire? Granted eternal life at the cost of living with an all-consuming grief. In all honesty I'm surprised I can bear to say it aloud even now."
Words didn't feel enough in this moment. What Diluc told you had broken your heart into miniscule fractals. To think he had borne such a painful wound for so long with no sense of reprieve in sight. It required a strength few actually possessed. You slipped your hands out of Diluc's gentle grasp, moving to cup his cheeks, a thumb softly swiping away at a tear that trailed down his marble smooth skin. Diluc smiled, a raw vulnerability in his face that put together every shard of your heart that broke for the man before you.
"After I finally regained a grasp on myself I wanted nothing more than to run as far away from here as possible. I almost did. But I couldn't let the place fall to ruin. I couldn't let go of my human memories, if only to keep the people within them alive somewhere. So I stayed here, as hard as it was in the beginning. Kept the Winery business going as much as I could, sold the tavern my father owned in Mondstadt. Did what I could to find some sense of normalcy amongst it all. I'm sure if you went into the city you'd hear whispers of rumours. Luckily it's enough to keep curious humans from tempting fate and sneaking around the Winery grounds."
"You make it sound like you're some ghost haunting those that dare step foot anywhere near your home."
Diluc chuckled, his fingers absentmindedly trailing shapes over your arms. He was quiet for a moment, wanting to savour the foreign taste of serenity. He'd never thought he could find such peace in the form of another, yet here you were sitting there, as real as anything in this world. If it weren't for the feel of your skin under his fingertips, he might just be convinced that this were all an elaborate dream sequence.
"In those early years I was terrified some stray humans would venture too close and I'd lose control all over again. Over time it got easier as I figured out ways to deal with the thirst—ones that didn't require any sort of human involvement."
"Thank you for trusting me with this. My heart is breaking for all that you've been through, Diluc. I wish there was more I could do."
He shook his head. "You have already done so much for me. More than I could ever deserve."
You hushed Diluc with a finger over his lips. "None of that. You are worth far more than you realise. And that means no sacrificing your health. I know it's hard, but you can't hurt yourself, Diluc. You deserve to live."
"I know," he sighed. "But I blame you for making things so difficult. Wait, let me explain. After that first night I tried to justify what I'd done, deciding it was merely justice for the violence they'd inflicted. That I could return to my usual routine of hunting. I didn't account for the effect you would have on me, nor the aching desire to taste you. The last thing I wanted was for you to think I only took you in to be used as a meal. You're so much more than that to me, yet with each day that passes the urge to drink grows stronger and stronger."
Stunned, you stayed quiet as the admission sank in. Of all the things you'd expected to hear Diluc say, his desire to drink your blood was not one of them.
"Diluc," you whispered, barely audible in the silence of the manor. "Know that my opinion of you remains unchanging. Being a vampire does not make you any less human nor does it make me fear you. Please, don't hold back anymore." You edged closer to press the softest of kisses to his lips, feeling him respond in kind. Your cheeks were stained with tears to match Diluc's as if your bodies had reached an unfathomable synchronicity.
"I trust you. So please, take what you need from me. It's all for you."
Diluc didn't hesitate to lower his mouth to your neck, gentle with each press of his skin against yours. There was some trepidation in his actions, unsure and worried for what he might do. But if you could place your trust in him, could put your life in his hands then he had to trust himself. He kissed your neck, sending a shudder down your spine as he sank his teeth into the skin. The feeling was unlike any other you'd felt. His hold on you was secure, making you feel safe as an unrelenting wave of euphoria washed over you—no doubt a side effect to make the process more inviting to a vampire's prey. But you were not Diluc's prey, nor was he a threat to you. This was an intimate exchange between lovers, bonding in a way they could never go back from. As Diluc drank, you felt your hold on your sanity slipping. Hazy and drowning in the euphoric sensations, you tangled your fingers in Diluc's flaming hair. The sound he made was all shades of divine. Unable to hold back your own echoing sounds of satisfaction, Diluc lifted his head from your neck to gaze at you. His pupils were wide, the amber of his eyes deep and dark. Your chest heaved with every breath you took, reeling from the dulling waves of pleasure as Diluc's lips crashed against yours, a faint metallic tang on his tongue. His arms lifted you atop his lap, hands strong as they held you tightly in his grasp.
"And there was me thinking you could not become any more divine. The hold you have on my heart is beyond words, but know that I intend to cherish you for all of eternity."
hi hello this is my formal application to join the vampire diluc enjoyers club. i love vampires and i love diluc. putting the two together is just recipe for a breakdown of the greatest proportions (in a good way). so enjoy the result of my brain exploding over my keyboard and manifesting the exact brand of hurt/comfort, mildly angsty diluc that i need in these desperate times. also secret pining and slowly building tension that is so palpable you can feel it deep in every corner of your brain. bc it's tasty. anyway enjoy the vampire diluc goodness bc wowie i need to take a minute after this. cw for blood and injury and the usual vampire behaviours!
When adventuring in unfamiliar territory, one must always pay close mind to their surroundings and take note of any nearby points of interest. A small town, a lone cottage, anything that signified safety and civilisation. If you became too complacent, there was no telling who or what you might stumble upon along your travels, or the danger they might possess. Such a reality came to fruition during your ventures through the lands of Mondstadt. You, a lone adventurer out in the world with little but the clothes on your back and some quickly dwindling supplies. The experience had been mostly peaceful, your lack of companionship offering a quietness that kept you safe from imminent harm. That was, however, until you happened across a band of Treasure Hoarders making your way toward Springvale. Trying to fend them off had proved difficult considering you were wildly outnumbered. Treasure Hoarders weren't known for their amicable dispositions nor their willingness to leave a lone stranger who happened upon their camp unscathed. One glance at the stack of treasures they'd undoubtedly stolen and your fate was sealed—they hadn't killed you at least, but remaining alive meant little when your body was so battered and broken in their wake. They'd left plenty of deep cuts and scratches along with an array of purplish bruises where their fists had struck true. The worst of all your injuries, however, was the small throwing knife lodged in the side of your knee and the sprained ankle that swiftly followed when you collided with the ground. They'd left you alone after that, tossing your aching body back onto the dirt road before laughing amongst themselves and returning to the warm air of their campfire. Laughter had never sparked such a furious rage in your chest than in that very moment. But what could you do? There was no one else around to come to your aid, nor could you fight them off in your condition. To attempt such an endeavour would only guarantee your death. And so all that you could do was muster up enough strength to rise to your feet and find shelter of some kind. Anything was better than laying in the road and risking the Treasure Hoarders return for a second round.
Walking blindly along, gait unsteady and slow, the sprain in your ankle soon began to feel more like a fracture. The uneven ground along with the tiredness that seeped in your bones made you feel weak beyond belief. To think just one chance encounter would upend your travels so drastically was beyond prediction. And yet, here you were, making your way through the wilds in search of any sign of help. That was when you emerged from a forested clearing and caught sight of a mansion of sorts sitting in the sprawling hills of its surrounding landscape. There was no sign of it being occupied yet it had not fallen into a state of disrepair. Someone must tend to the area else it wouldn't look so invitingly pristine. But even as you neared the stone steps leading up onto the mansion's grounds, there were no maids nor groundskeepers in sight. All that stood was a towering building of unbelievable proportions compared to the homely cottages and makeshift campsites you'd come across since first reaching Mondstadt. Judging by the rows of grapes that lined the mansion's perimeter, the master of the house, whoever that may be, ran some sort of establishment that dealt with wines. That, or he just rather quite liked grapes. Either way, whoever resided here was your only chance at securing a safe place to rest your head until you could make a full recovery. Or, at least, recover enough to head out for Springvale and onto the City of Freedom itself.
When you reached the heavy wooden doors, it took almost all of your remaining energy to knock hard enough to be heard from inside the mansion. Agonising seconds passed, each moment that you remained alone weighing heavier and heavier on your shoulders. Was there even anyone in there to hear the desperate call for help in your weakened knock? Would they even care to aid a lone adventurer who had trespassed onto their land? Question and doubt plagued you as you stood staring at the stillness of the doors, what small semblance of hope they had granted now beginning to rapidly fade away. Just as that flickering flame was about to extinguish itself, a loud creaking sounded as the doors opened a crack. Anticipation rose at the thought as the mansion's occupant made themself known. Standing before you was a man with hair that could only be described as flame red. His hair tumbled over his shoulders in curled waves that shone even bright in the moonlight. He wore a white linen blouse, framed by a long, dark jacket that lay slightly crooked on his body—perhaps the only sign of dishevelment upon his entire being. The top button of his blouse was undone, revealing a small triangle of his pale complexion. His skin was so clear it seemed almost iridescent under the moon's opaline light. Something about him was hauntingly beautiful, down to the dark amber of his eyes and the almost scowl that failed to mar his grievous beauty. In your distraction, you barely noticed how his eyes trailed every inch of you searching for something in your clothes that might identify who had approached his home. Even after registering his intrigue, it took a moment to come to your senses, realising this mysterious man was waiting for you to offer some explanation as to your arrival.
"I apologise for disturbing you so late, sir. I ran into some trouble with a band of Treasure Hoarders and don't have the strength to get myself to safety. If it isn't too much trouble, might I rest here for the night?"
He remained silent as he examined your condition, gaze settling on the throwing knife that remained lodged in your skin. Safer to keep it there than risk bleeding out. Something in his stance shifted, his nose crinkling for a fraction of a second before he opened the door further and gestured for you to enter. What lay before your eyes only heightened your curiosity. Despite the grounds being empty, you had expected to see at least a few members of staff walking about the place, dusting off bookshelves or fetching the master a late night beverage. But there was nothing of the sort in sight. Instead, you were greeted with an open room decorated with the finest opulence—evidence of your host's wealth. This man you had happened upon and his home were most unusual, and yet you couldn't stave off the intrigue that tingled each of your senses, whispering in your ear how you mustn't run. It was so invitingly warm compared to the howling winds; a beaconing safe haven you couldn't possibly walk away from even if your injuries weren't preventing you from doing so.
Your host directed you toward a pair of cushioned sofas, having closed the heavy doors with ease. For a man so draped in elegance, he was certainly stronger than he seemed. Even the way he walked was captivating, as though each and every step was perfectly calculated and orchestrated so that he always presented an image of divine excellence. So much of him seemed to embody a sense of refinement that could capture and control a room with a mere glance. This was not some ordinary businessman residing in these walls.
"Here. Take a seat while I see what supplies I have." He was certainly a man of few words, though you couldn't fathom why when his voice sounded so velvet smooth. There was something otherworldly in the way he spoke, as though he did not truly belong here. Was this perhaps just an affectation of the countrymen in Mondstadt? There was no use dwelling on who your host might be, names and history of the nation all too unknown to mean little more than idle chatter to you. Still, there was always the chance he might indulge the questions swarming your mind. When he returned, apologising for the wait, he kneeled down to tend to the worst of your injuries. Namely the wound from the throwing knife that throbbed with each minute movement of your leg. He was careful not to aggravate the spot too much, carefully removing it and tossing the blade aside once it was finally free. A large, yet cool, hand pressed gauze against the now open wound. The pressure was uncomfortable, but a necessary price to pay for the reward of recovery.
"You're lucky you came here. Not everyone would know or possess the materials to close this wound of yours." His eyes met yours, candlelight reflecting in the deep colour of his irises. Before they had looked almost brown but the soft golden glow illuminating this corner of the room was enough to show their true colour—whorls of gold embedded among amber. He soon averted his gaze to focus on your injuries, leaving you mildly dazed from how you reeled at the short moments of eye contact. It felt like it lasted far longer than it had.
"Then it's a good job I found your home, isn't it?" You offered a smile, hoping that even a fraction of your gratitude came across in the gesture. A whispering echo of his own smile twitched in his lips as he remained focused on your leg. The pain had dulled somewhat, though the discomfort still remained, but it was nothing you couldn't endure. You let your eyes wander, surveying the room around you while your host stitched the wound back together. It was then that you began to notice the signs of his solitude; stacks of books were piled on the floors, a thin veneer of dust covering the leatherbound volumes. They looked old even ignoring their dusty state and how the pages had yellowed with age. In fact everything around you seemed a little too old fashioned to be considered coincidence. Perhaps he had inherited the mansion from family and simply hadn't bothered to redecorate? There was no telling just what secrets might lie in the cracks and crevices of this aged mansion or the man inhabiting it. Still, it wasn't as if you planned to stay for too much longer so no doubt all those mysteries would remain buried in the walls for as long as he willed them to.
By the time he had finished stitching your wound and tending to your ankle which, as luck would have it, had indeed worsened to a fracture, you could feel sleep tugging at every extremity in your body. The pain was not a distant echo though you still felt rather fragile as you lay back on the cushions. Your host and healer had not long left to discard the now-used materials. He had remained quiet for the most part, only offering small warnings to prepare for a spike of pain. Everything about him, his name included, was shrouded in mystery and there was nothing you longed for more than to pull back the curtain concealing so much of himself from your gaze. When he returned, you barely registered his voice in your ears as sleep crept closer and closer.
"Luckily for you I have a spare room in suitable condition for a guest. Your ankle will need some time to heal so I'm afraid you might need to stay here longer than you intended." You mumbled out a mostly incoherent reply, falling unconscious shortly after a pair of strong arms lifted you from the sofa and carried you away while sleep took its hold.
The following day sunlight poured over your skin, gently waking you in an unfamiliar room. You were laying in a large bed wearing clothes you didn't recognise. The room was not overly decorated, though it wasn't too minimalist either; a bookshelf piled high sat along the back wall and there was a set of drawers beneath the open window and a flowerpot nestled in the middle, its leaves gently moving in the breeze. The air was fresh and invigorating, slowly pulling you out of the hazy drowsiness of your slumber. Memories of the previous night were a slight bit too far out of your grasp, as though a film of fog was clouding the snapshot pictures of all you saw. It was only as you slowly found consciousness and energy creeping back, along with the persisting aches, that everything settled in your mind. You'd been badly injured, stumbled upon an almost uninhabited manor and found yourself in the care of an unknown lord. It almost sounded too fantastical to be real but the sudden knock at the door and immediate entrance of your host proved this was not some elaborate dream you'd manifested while asleep.
"Ah, you're awake. How do you feel?" He carried a tray in hand, laden with food and some water.
"Sore. But good. What time is it?" One bite was enough to make you realise just how much you needed this meal.
"Early afternoon. You're a heavy sleeper." His lips upturned in a small smile as he perched at the foot of the bed. Today he looked more prepared for guests than the previous night. The deep maroon of his corset only accentuated the brightness of his hair and he seemed a fraction more composed than when he'd first laid eyes on you. A moment passed when the state of your undress registered in your mind, warming your cheeks as you tried to sit up despite the persistent twinge of pain striking your leg.
"Ah, ah. None of that. I'm prescribing you a few days of bedrest. Your ankle is in rather poor condition and I'd rather not have you become a permanent resident in my home for it."
Worry that you might be imposing began to rise. The last thing you wanted was to be bothersome or interrupt any plans he might have had.
He held out a hand, as if sensing your inner turmoil. "Your face is an open book. Relax. I'd rather see you fully healed than send you away into danger. I live alone here so the company might be rather pleasant for a time. Still, I do not wish to rob you of your independence so I intend to arrange for a walking aid so that you can venture the manor at your leisure. Until then I ask that you remain in here."
You nodded, accepting that the both of you had little choice in the matter. After all, you did come to Mondstadt with the intention of seeking adventure and new sights. This was just another chapter, one that was entirely unplanned and unexpected, but an adventure all the same. Over the following week you found yourself growing closer to the man who'd aided you. Diluc, you'd learnt was his name, was a private man, only offering small titbits of himself whenever you asked. He was most amicable in the evenings, frequently joining you upon your request to read under the waning remnants of sunlight. It was then you'd learnt about his lucrative wine business, something he'd inherited from family though he had divulged no more than that. Where his family was now you could only assume from the pained crease in his brow that the story was not one that possessed a happy ending. Much of Diluc's existence seemed to suggest his was a life of difficulty despite the lavish furnishings of his home. Even a wealthy estate felt barren if you were the only one to occupy it.
In spite of how fond you had grown of Diluc, much of him was still shrouded in mystery. Even his day-to-day routine sparkled ounces of curiosity within you—specifically because you were privy to so little of it. Even after acquiring a walking aid and gaining access to the manor in its entirety, you still felt as though you barely knew the man hosting you. He'd served your meals while bedridden but had encouraged you to help yourself to all the supplies in his pantry and inform him of anything else you might need. Yet you had never seen him eat. If ever you commented, he would reassure you not to worry and would swiftly change the subject; if he wasn't an expert at diverting conversation before, he certainly was now. And it wasn't just around eating, Diluc would also dismiss any and all inquiries about his sleeping schedule. Whenever you rose in the morning, Diluc would be about the mansion having already started his day. And come evening time when you were fighting to stave off sleepy yawns. Diluc seemed to possess just as much energy as he did in the mornings. Perhaps he fuelled himself on an abundance of coffee, but you had yet to see him take even a sip of the stuff. There was also the fact you could have sworn you heard him leaving the manor late at night. Maybe it was just the sound of the wind, but it sounded a little too loud even for the sweeping winds of Mondstadt. Diluc's evasive nature and his perplexing schedule certainly explained the ghostly paleness of his complexion but a small voice in the back of your mind whispered that there was something else. Something that he was so deftly hiding from you that was just out of reach. Perhaps if you reached a little further, you could grasp the truth in your hands.
Such a moment came in the dead of night, the sky an abyssal pool of oblivion black with its smattering of stars. Even blanketed in darkness, you could just about make out the peak of Dragonspine looming in the heights of the horizon. It was truly a sight to behold under night's comforting silence. Still, as beautiful as the night's scenery was, you longed to be tucked away in bed and dreaming of far off places. But in spite of the tiredness clinging to your person, such respite still would not come. It was as though there was some pervasive force impeding your conscious thoughts, luring you toward the answer to a question you didn't realise you'd asked. Restlessness had you fumbling your way in the dark through the house, now much more accustomed to your walking aids as your ankle slowly healed. Silence consumed the manor, even more so than usual. The unsettling feeling accompanying the darkness soon ebbed at the faint glow from behind a closed door. Diluc was still awake. Not bothering to knock, you gently pushed the door into the kitchen open. Diluc was leaning against the counter, blood staining his clothes. Fear sank deep under your skin, propelling you close to him in an urgent need to ensure he was okay. Your walking aids were abandoned, your weight causing a dull throb in your ankle but that was of little importance. His coat had been tossed beside him, blood staining the beige material though it paled in comparison to the starkness of the deep crimson against the crisp white of his linen shirt.
"What happened. Are you okay?" Your words were frantic, worry and concern taking over ever rational thought in your body. Your shaking hands fumbled with the buttons on his shirt, only able to unfasten two before Diluc's hand covered them. The porcelain of his chest revealed no sign of injury. But the blood must have come from somewhere. He placed a hand on your shoulder, his touch gentle and any trace of his initial alarm fading away into acceptance for the situation he now found himself in.
"I'm fine. The blood isn't mine. You should be more concerned for that ankle. I am not worth risking yourself over." He stepped out of your grasp to retrieve what you had forgotten, only speaking again once you had taken the weight off your injury. Looking into his eyes, you thought there was something like regret there, as though he'd made some grievous mistake that had finally caught up on him.
"What do you mean it isn't yours? Whose is it? Where have you even been this late at night. Diluc, I—I don't understand what's going on here."
He was quiet, hesitance clinging to the crease in his brow as he weighed his options. "That is not your concern. My business is my own."
"Not my concern? I have put my trust in you. Stayed in your home when I had no other choice. I have put my life in your hands and suddenly your whereabouts are not my concern? Surely you are not so brazen as to think I would accept that?"
"It isn't so simple—"
"No, Diluc. No. I'm not accepting that. I've overlooked a lot of strangeness going on here and I think I'm due some kind of explanation. You barely seem to sleep, you never eat around me, you seem to be awake at all hours. Then you leave in the middle of the night and come home covered in blood that you claim isn't your own. What are you, some sort of vampire?" You had intended your final comment as an incredulous joke to demonstrate the absurdity of all that seemed to be going on at Dawn Winery. Yet, Diluc's expression turned dark as if some deplorable secret had been unearthed and laid bare in the candlelit glow of the kitchen.
"Diluc. Now is not the time for morbid jokes."
"I have never been more serious." His face certainly seemed to reflect his words.
A mangled concoction of confusion and fear bubbled its way up to your throat, stealing any and all words that might have tried to leave. Surely not. Surely this was all some elaborate joke Diluc was pulling and he was about to laugh it off and assure you that all this talk of vampires was nonsensical. But he didn't. He remained quiet and stoic, waiting for you to make the next move.
"But...No...What?" The world felt as though it was shifting around you as every moment of your time with Diluc replayed in your mind's eye. Diluc's apparent confession to being a vampire certainly explained a lot of things, but how could it be true? Vampires were in books and children's tales, not real life. Yet, it was also the only plausible and logical explanation for Diluc's bizarre living situation.
"I need a moment. A few moments, actually. Sorry. This is a lot of take in."
Diluc laid a reassuring hand on your wrist. "Please, take some rest. But know that I do not wish your harm, nor do I wish to take advantage of this situation. You may not believe this right now, but you can trust me."
You offered a meek nod, taking your leave of the kitchen to return to your own room and let sleep carry you away. You wanted to believe his words. A small part of you did. But a larger part was overwhelmed by it all. Vampires truly existed? Was this why Diluc lived alone in the manor? To hide his secret and keep innocent bystanders from harm? But then, how did he sustain himself? In all the stories, vampires did not eat as humans did. A shudder shot through you at the thought before your eyelids grew heavy and sleep finally washed over you.
Over the coming days, Diluc kept his distance. It was evident he was waiting for you to initiate conversation, letting you come to terms with the revelation of his vampiric status. It somehow felt as though it were both real and a fabrication of Diluc's invention. Still, even if it didn't feel entirely real, you missed Diluc's companionship. In the time you'd spent living with him, you'd grown fond of the man and that fact had not changed. So you tentatively took those extra steps to return to normality. You would take a seat beside him, bringing up some story of your time growing up to which Diluc would respond with a story of his own. Somehow it was as if a barrier had come down. The restraint and caution of secrecy that once shackled Diluc was no longer present, so now he could indulge in stories of his childhood, his former self. He was far from an open book, of course, but there was something softer about the way he spoke. As if he finally felt comfortable. As if he no longer had to hide who he was. He would answer your questions, entertaining the fantastical stereotypes with teasing remarks. It wasn't long before things felt normal again, or rather, felt better than normal. He no longer felt out of reach, but rather like someone you could bond with on a much deeper level. It was nice. There was still much about Diluc that remained a total mystery, but more so than ever you hoped to crack what remained of his exterior. Even if it took weeks, months, however long Diluc needed to shed what remained of his apprehensions. Thoughts of what might happen once your ankle fully healed were a muted whisper in the back of your mind, so miniscule you'd barely even considered that future. Living in the present was so much more exciting, after all.
One evening you and Diluc were sat together before the crackling warmth of the fireplace. The sun had long since set and the only light in the room was that of the fire and the candles dotted about the room. A gentle cosiness wrapped like a blanket around you, leaving you content and satisfied. Diluc was reading from a book he'd bought while out earlier that day. He'd been doing some business related to the Winery, though had spared you of the boring details that came with manufacturing and distributing wines. Diluc had told you of the tavern his family used to run and the commerce that made it flourish but upon his becoming a vampire he lost almost all interest in keeping the business running. He'd sold the place off to the highest bidder and become somewhat of a recluse in the manor, only keeping the supply of wine going so as not to rouse attention from the city folk. It was a quiet existence he'd sought out and a quiet existence he'd received in return.
"Can I ask a question?"
Diluc didn't lift an eye from his page as he answered, "You just did."
Huffing a sigh, you moved to lower his book and force his attention on you. "Your jokes are as dull as your taste in literature. But I'm going to take that as a yes. How averse are you to answering questions about how vampires, um, feed?"
"Don't tell me you're getting ideas." Diluc's voice rang with amusement, but he placed the book down to give you his full attention. "I'm afraid I can't answer as in-depth as you might like. I've never met another vampire. The one who created me barely stuck around long enough to witness my full transformation let alone answer any questions I might have had."
"Then, how does it work? Do you use human vessels or...?"
"Vessels? You make it sound as though I have some poor human sequestered to my basement for regular mealtimes."
"I don't know how it works, maybe you do. Who knows what you get up to in the dead of night."
Diluc's laugh was melodic, his head tipping back into the cushion of the sofa, his hair spilling like wildfire. "No human vessels. I actually make a point not to drink human blood. Not unless absolutely necessary." Diluc paused for a moment, sensing your earnest desire to pry further. He sighed, preparing himself to lay bare parts of himself he'd kept locked away from all eyes—except yours. "Not long after I was turned, I learned that drinking the blood of animals was enough to keep the agony of hunger at bay. It does not satiate like human blood does, but it is enough to sustain oneself for a good long while. I enjoy it that way."
"Have you ever drank from a human before?"
"Yes. Only a few times. The first, I would rather not discuss. It was a moment of blinded thirst that consumed every rational thought and bone in my body. I had no control and did things I wish to forget. Since then I have restrained as much as my body will allow." His eyes seemed to grow colder at the mention of his first taste of human blood, a distant echo of pain misting over the amber hue and turning them mute. He did not explain further, nor did he need to. There was a reason he had no family, and you could sense from the roiling anguish that it was not unconnected.
"Since then it has only been once or twice when I couldn't bare the pain any longer."
You edged a little closer, reaching a hand to cover his so that he knew you weren't afraid. The last thing you wanted was for him to back away from such a vulnerable state of being and recede into the iron shell he'd once donned. "Would you ever consider it? If someone were to offer?"
He shook his head. "I'm not sure that I could. It has always been this necessary evil so to indulge in a way that suggested a choice feels far too close. Too intimate." The way he whispered sent goosebumps shivering over your skin. The air was thick with a tension so palpable you swore you could see it. Could touch it. "I don't wish to forget that part of myself. It serves as a reminder of who I am—what I am. Dangerous. I am no longer human and I must live with that for the rest of eternity."
"Perhaps. But that does not mean you have committed some egregious sin for which you must atone. This was not your choice. You had this life thrust upon you with no warning nor guidance, Diluc. There is need to punish yourself for that."
His laugh was cold, lacking any respect or sympathy for himself. "You only think that way because you believe I am still human in some way. You claim I have committed no sin but you have not seen all that I have done."
"You're right, I haven't. But all of that history, both good and bad, only makes me more certain." You reached to turn Diluc's face toward you. He seemed withdrawn, full to the brim with self-hatred and contempt. An anger burned within him, but it was all directed inward; none of it was for you. "To become a vampire does not erase the human life you led. Nor does it eradicate the humanity that guides your every choice. If you were so soulless you wouldn't have taken me in and helped me. You would have carried me over your doorstep and stolen what life I had left. But you didn't."
"Saving one human is hardly atonement," Diluc scoffed, eyes raging at he stared at nothing. There was a pain so deep and dark it cleaved your heart in two. Partially for the turmoil that plagued Diluc's every step but also for the inability to soothe even a small fraction of that everlasting despair. There were years of tumultuous agony raging behind Diluc's eyes, a pain that you couldn't touch nor take away no matter how much you wished to. Words of comfort felt far too insignificant, yet what else could you offer? This was hardly your field of expertise. Though that did not stop your wandering hands from taking his in their hold, a physical reminder that you were there and you were not afraid. No matter how Diluc lamented for his lacking humanity, you had no intention to leave his side. Your touch managed to pull Diluc away from his spiralling thoughts, his eyes fixed on yours, all anguish and pain. Though there was a rising warmth the moment your eyes met his, as if he could hear all the words you hadn't said. Could sense exactly how much you wished to help him, comfort him, in the same way he had helped you. Perhaps it was all futile. Perhaps it meant little in the grand scheme of things. But that was a distant thought, utterly meaningless as you sat in silence with Diluc's gaze searing your skin. In all the time you'd been staying at Dawn Winery, you'd grown close with him but this felt different. A sparking energy flowed through each of you, an electric current passing through the point where your hands met. It was almost a little too much.
As if reading those thoughts, or perhaps hearing your heartbeat quicken, Diluc cleared his throat and broke off that eye contact, removing his hands from yours in the process. It was like a bucket of ice water had been thrown over you, reality finally coming into focus again leaving only the tingling remnants that were the memories of his hands touching yours. He mentioned something about it getting late—empty words to excuse himself. You could only half hear him bidding you a good night as he left for his room. Your heart pounded in your ears as you sat in contemplation. You had learned much of Diluc's past tonight, had peered into the vast depths of his inner thoughts. There was so much left unspoken yet it was enough to piece together what had happened to him and what he had done to culminate in the tragedy that seemed to shadow him. There was also something else that had shifted that night. The scorching feel of his eyes on yours and the electricity that his touch brought. It brought about feelings you couldn't quite fathom nor fully comprehend, but they also brought with them a sense of excitement—a sense of anticipation for what the future might bring.
The following evening you were leaving your room to fetch a pot of tea to accompany you as you prepared to settle down for the night. Even with your injury healing as well as it was, you still required the walking aids to keep the weight from erasing all your progress. You'd grown rather deft with them, able to walk at a decent pace about the manor. But in spite of your adept control over them, fate had something else in mind as you walked down the stairs and caught the carpet, sending you off balance and about to fall down the remaining few steps. You braced for the impact of the hard wood floors but it never came. Instead, a warm pair of arms wrapped around your frame, holding you up and against Diluc's sturdy body. His eyes flashed with alarm, sudden worry for your wellbeing spurring his actions and keeping you held tightly against him. Words evaded you, unable to tear your eyes away from Diluc's face. It seemed he was just as entranced with the way his gaze flickered from your eyes to your lips. No words were uttered and yet his thoughts were as clear as the morning sky. Suddenly his lips crashed to yours, his last piece of self-restraint falling away as he pulled you even closer. Your walking aids fell to the ground, rendered completely useless as Diluc held you in his arms. His lips were warm, soft, and utterly irresistible. All the scary stories about a vampire's thrall were true. Perhaps not in the way they were intended to be, but there was no denying the spell Diluc had you under. Not that he was entirely ready to admit it, but Diluc was just as bewitched by you. Your presence, your touch. All of it was enchanting to him. He believed himself entirely undeserving of it, but he was also selfish. Giving up such a divine act was unthinkable.
Then your lips parted, breaths heavy and heated as your eyes met again. It had been easy to miss the building tension that had grown over your time with Diluc, but now that it had come crumbling down the absence felt stark. Suddenly everything didn't feel quite so muted, as though you were seeing in colour for the first time. Despite the clarity of the world around you, your thoughts felt clouded and hazy, distracted by the way Diluc's lips had melded so perfectly over yours. Something like fear rose in his eyes, scared he may have overstepped a line or acted out of turn. He was soon soothed by the hand that brushed his cheek, guiding him back to your lips in a fleeting kiss. It was all the sign he needed to kiss you again, deeper this time, exploring all that you offered to him. Then his hands were sweeping you up into his hold, carrying you back up the stairs you'd just walked down. But he did not make to return you to your room and instead carried you into his own bedroom. Your heart raced with each step that Diluc took, never having been inside before, but his smile was warm and comforting, erasing any nerves that threatened to pull you out of this infinitely seraphic moment. He was gentle as he placed you down before climbing up beside you. His arms cradled around your body, warm and inviting as he held you close, his lips leaving gentle kisses at your temple.
"Your heart is beating so fast," he mused, voice barely audible above a whisper despite being the only two people in a sizable radius.
"Perhaps that is because I have just been ravished by a vampire who then carried me off to his bed." You couldn't help the teasing laughs at the way Diluc froze, suddenly realising how his actions might be interpreted. His hands left your body, which now felt cold in his absence, as he sat up and started to move away before you reached out for him and pulled him back down.
"No. Stay," you murmured, guiding his hands back to wrap around you.
His porcelain skin remained its usual pale shade, but you knew his face would be a blushing inferno if it were capable. He stumbled over his words, struggling to regain his composure. "You should know my intentions were only pure."
"I trust you. Regardless of your intentions, I am grateful to be here. Even if only because you feel so warm."
Diluc's laugh was a welcome sound. "Then please, feel free to use me as you see fit. So long as you stay here for the night."
"I think I can grant that request. Since you asked so nicely."
"I am forever indebted to you," he said before bringing his lips to yours again. Something about the way he so confidently moved was enthralling. Diluc had truly ensnared you in every way, though the same could be said about your own hold over him.
"In all my years I have never felt so whole. I don't think I realised just how lonely this place was. Or how lonely I was. Until you. Thank you."
Taken aback by his sudden confession, you hesitated a moment. His fingers toyed with yours, admiring the way your hand fit against his as he waited for you to speak. "Somehow it almost feels like destiny. As if the gods were waiting for the exact moment to lead me here."
"Whether it was some god-given blessing or merely lady luck on our side, I will be eternally grateful." Silence descended upon the two of you, comfortable and cosy as you lay in each other's hold. Time felt as though it had frozen, bestowing you the chance to bathe in this bliss for as long as you desired. It was only the growing tiredness that proved the world was still turning even as you remained there.
"You know," you spoke between sleepy yawns. "I've been wondering about something. Do vampires sleep?"
Diluc chuckled, a low hum that made your heart skip a beat. "We can, though we have no need. It isn't quite like your human slumbers, but rather a meditative rest that does little more than clear the mind for a time. We can take periods of rest, though they usually last weeks or months, sometimes even years. They are not needed quite so frequently, nor am in desperate need. Besides, I have a human to care for." He stroked a gentle finger against your cheek, his touch feather light as if he was scared he might shatter the serene moment with anything stronger.
"Hm, most interesting."
"You sound like you're conducting a study." Diluc made to tease you a little more until you yawned again, sleep desperately calling for you. "Close your eyes. I won't leave your side."
"Promise?"
"Promise," he replied as your consciousness waned and the most peaceful sleep you'd perhaps ever had washed over you.
That night was not the last you spent with Diluc. In fact, it soon became rare to be apart from him when you slept. His presence brought a soothing peace to your nights, allowing you to rest even more soundly. Since that first night he'd started to open up bit-by-bit, letting you in to even more of his previous life, including his family. A raw pain would cloud his face each time he told you of his brother, Kaeya, and the memories they shared as children running about the winery. But he no longer shied away from the pain that reopening those old wounds brought and instead kept it on display for you to witness. He wasn't scared anymore to have someone see him for all that he is and was; wasn't scared to let you see every piece of his past no matter how light or dark. His soul was yours to hold and cherish. Even when the inevitable night came for Diluc to divulge the single most tragic event of his life, he did not falter nor hide away from you.
The sun was long gone beyond the horizon, and the night grew cold. You and Diluc were lounging together, reading in comfortable silence before you retired to bed, when a thought struck you suddenly.
"Diluc, when was the last time you fed?" He'd been keeping to the manor a lot more than before, only leaving for short excursions to purchase food. Since choosing to spend your nights together, Diluc hadn't once left in the middle of the night to quench his thirst. Going a few days without drinking blood was no trouble, but it was fast approaching two weeks since he'd last done so—unless he'd magically snuck away without you noticing somehow.
"Ah, it was...some weeks ago. But you needn't worry." Some weeks? Had it somehow been even longer than you thought?
"Needn't worry? I know better than to trust that. Aren't you hungry? Thirsty? Whatever the right word is."
Diluc chuckled, lowering his book to one side as he reached a gentle hand to caress your cheek. "I'm surviving, aren't I?"
"Talk to me, Diluc. I'm here."
Something in Diluc's expression shifted, acceptance sinking in as he took your hands in his. This was something he had wanted to share for some time but could never find the words nor a moment that felt right. It seemed you'd given him the perfect opportunity to take one more step into his past.
"On the night you arrived here, after I made sure you were comfortable and sleeping, I left to find those Treasure Hoarders that attacked you. I don't know what came over me, really. But I couldn't let them walk away unharmed after what they did to you. I only intended to scare them off but got a little...carried away. Long story short that was my first human blood in decades. I try to refrain because every time it sends me back to memories of the first time." Diluc paused, a look of anguish passing over his features. You gently squeezed his hands, a warm reminder that you were there and you were listening. Always.
Diluc took a calming breath before continuing, "It was so long ago now yet it feels like only yesterday. I had just been turned and the agony was blinding. I barely knew who I was, just that I needed to satiate the scorching pain in my throat. There was nothing human about me then. Not as I tore this manor apart. And the people in it. Even my—" Diluc winced at the sound of the memory leaving his lips, his eyes falling on a black eyepatch sitting atop the mantel. This was the secret he'd buried so deep and now someone finally knew his most grievous sin. "By the time I finally regained any sense of who I was, it was too late. Far too late. It took months to stop seeing their blood on every surface of this place. I could barely live with myself but how do you kill a vampire? Granted eternal life at the cost of living with an all-consuming grief. In all honesty I'm surprised I can bear to say it aloud even now."
Words didn't feel enough in this moment. What Diluc told you had broken your heart into miniscule fractals. To think he had borne such a painful wound for so long with no sense of reprieve in sight. It required a strength few actually possessed. You slipped your hands out of Diluc's gentle grasp, moving to cup his cheeks, a thumb softly swiping away at a tear that trailed down his marble smooth skin. Diluc smiled, a raw vulnerability in his face that put together every shard of your heart that broke for the man before you.
"After I finally regained a grasp on myself I wanted nothing more than to run as far away from here as possible. I almost did. But I couldn't let the place fall to ruin. I couldn't let go of my human memories, if only to keep the people within them alive somewhere. So I stayed here, as hard as it was in the beginning. Kept the Winery business going as much as I could, sold the tavern my father owned in Mondstadt. Did what I could to find some sense of normalcy amongst it all. I'm sure if you went into the city you'd hear whispers of rumours. Luckily it's enough to keep curious humans from tempting fate and sneaking around the Winery grounds."
"You make it sound like you're some ghost haunting those that dare step foot anywhere near your home."
Diluc chuckled, his fingers absentmindedly trailing shapes over your arms. He was quiet for a moment, wanting to savour the foreign taste of serenity. He'd never thought he could find such peace in the form of another, yet here you were sitting there, as real as anything in this world. If it weren't for the feel of your skin under his fingertips, he might just be convinced that this were all an elaborate dream sequence.
"In those early years I was terrified some stray humans would venture too close and I'd lose control all over again. Over time it got easier as I figured out ways to deal with the thirst—ones that didn't require any sort of human involvement."
"Thank you for trusting me with this. My heart is breaking for all that you've been through, Diluc. I wish there was more I could do."
He shook his head. "You have already done so much for me. More than I could ever deserve."
You hushed Diluc with a finger over his lips. "None of that. You are worth far more than you realise. And that means no sacrificing your health. I know it's hard, but you can't hurt yourself, Diluc. You deserve to live."
"I know," he sighed. "But I blame you for making things so difficult. Wait, let me explain. After that first night I tried to justify what I'd done, deciding it was merely justice for the violence they'd inflicted. That I could return to my usual routine of hunting. I didn't account for the effect you would have on me, nor the aching desire to taste you. The last thing I wanted was for you to think I only took you in to be used as a meal. You're so much more than that to me, yet with each day that passes the urge to drink grows stronger and stronger."
Stunned, you stayed quiet as the admission sank in. Of all the things you'd expected to hear Diluc say, his desire to drink your blood was not one of them.
"Diluc," you whispered, barely audible in the silence of the manor. "Know that my opinion of you remains unchanging. Being a vampire does not make you any less human nor does it make me fear you. Please, don't hold back anymore." You edged closer to press the softest of kisses to his lips, feeling him respond in kind. Your cheeks were stained with tears to match Diluc's as if your bodies had reached an unfathomable synchronicity.
"I trust you. So please, take what you need from me. It's all for you."
Diluc didn't hesitate to lower his mouth to your neck, gentle with each press of his skin against yours. There was some trepidation in his actions, unsure and worried for what he might do. But if you could place your trust in him, could put your life in his hands then he had to trust himself. He kissed your neck, sending a shudder down your spine as he sank his teeth into the skin. The feeling was unlike any other you'd felt. His hold on you was secure, making you feel safe as an unrelenting wave of euphoria washed over you—no doubt a side effect to make the process more inviting to a vampire's prey. But you were not Diluc's prey, nor was he a threat to you. This was an intimate exchange between lovers, bonding in a way they could never go back from. As Diluc drank, you felt your hold on your sanity slipping. Hazy and drowning in the euphoric sensations, you tangled your fingers in Diluc's flaming hair. The sound he made was all shades of divine. Unable to hold back your own echoing sounds of satisfaction, Diluc lifted his head from your neck to gaze at you. His pupils were wide, the amber of his eyes deep and dark. Your chest heaved with every breath you took, reeling from the dulling waves of pleasure as Diluc's lips crashed against yours, a faint metallic tang on his tongue. His arms lifted you atop his lap, hands strong as they held you tightly in his grasp.
"And there was me thinking you could not become any more divine. The hold you have on my heart is beyond words, but know that I intend to cherish you for all of eternity."
somehow it's been this long and this is the first alhaitham fic i've written oops. i think about him a lot so this is the culmination of that tbh. just him being overworked and tired after the events of the archon quest so someone has to make him rest even for a little while before he returns to the mountain of akademiya related paperwork. fun fact i actually wrote this like a month and a half ago for a side project but then didn't crosspost here bc i forgot lmao. anyway take a slice of comfort with everyone's favourite akademiya scribe turned acting grand sage and his architect roommate.
Night fast approached the skies of Sumeru City, the vestiges of the afternoon sunlight beginning to fade into a familiar darkness. Stalls in the Grand Bazaar were beginning to close, merchants and craftsmen preparing to return to their homes for a night of peaceful sleep before the cycle of work began all over again. Students of the Akademiya littered its high walls, many retreating to the House of Deana in the hopes of finding the perfect research study to complement their own academic work. Countless students were preparing for a long night ahead of reading through texts and tomes of all kinds, oncoming deadlines the primary motivation for their dedication to the craft. For some, this was an enjoyable task, the pressure of time resulting in optimal conditions to produce a perfectly sound piece of research. For many others, however, the rush was nothing more than the cause of undeterminable volumes of stress that seeped into every facet of life—even those beyond the Akademiya’s walls. Alhaitham had always belonged to the former group, pressure and expectation doing little to shake his spirit. As a student he’d rarely found himself amongst the collection of students with far too little time left to tackle all of their ongoing projects; his tutors and seniors always praised him for being so diligent. Since becoming the Akaedmiya’s Scribe, Alhaitham had found his work demand increase substantially, especially since the recent scandal involving the Akademiya’s Grand Sage and his accomplices.
Talks were still continuing as to who might replace the former Sages and as long as a decision had yet to be made, Alhaitham’s workload would see no slowing point. Such a fact did not bother him particularly. Keeping busy was all part of why he had become a scholar in the first place, after all. Although he did rather miss being left to his own devices archiving documents or sitting in the background of important meetings, taking notes without any need to contribute to the discussions. Nowadays, far more people seemed to pay attention to him and his presence than before. It was a change Alhaitham longed to see disappear once the former Sages’ positions were filled once again. Still, even with his newfound notoriety, Alhaitham remained an unchanged individual. The additional workload was all part of the job and he strived to complete anything thrown his way with utmost speed. Such a dedication to the job, no matter how admirable, was ultimately detrimental to one’s health, physical or otherwise. Alhaitham knew better than most the outcome of pushing one’s body too far.
He was usually not one to stay past his working hours, leaving any outstanding tasks for the following morning, but with the sudden pile of work thrown his way by the Akademiya, Alhaitham was left with little choice but to extend his work hours long into the night. The past weeks had left him near glued to his desk with no chance for respite in sight. More often than not he’d end up just staying there the entire night, taking a nap on the lounge chair that sat against the wall of books decorating his office and calling it a suitable night of sleep. Even now it had been a few days since he’d last returned home. Alhaitham supposed he should probably show his face there soon and prove to his roommate, Kaveh, that he hadn’t disappeared entirely. Though, admittedly, he was rather enjoying the peace and quiet from his roommate's presence. Easier to stay in his office all night than be bothered and woken by the architect making noise in the witching hour as he worked on some new project. Unlike Alhaitham, Kaveh was a chronic procrastinator and thrived in the early hours of the morning when Alhaitham usually preferred to sleep.
Alhaitham sighed to himself, fingers massaging at his aching temples. He'd been sitting at his desk far too long and words were starting to blur into one another, a sign that he should probably stop soon—or at the very least, take a break. A part of him was tempted to listen. Tempted to set aside all the paperwork that weighed on his shoulders and make the quick walk back home where he could sleep undisturbed until the sun came up once more. Then there was the side of him that whispered in his ear how a selection of the documents on his desk needed to be read through and organised in time to be submitted during a meeting the following morning. This was going to be a long night. One that required another mug of coffee as soon as physically possible.
Meanwhile, Kaveh walked the streets of Sumeru City. He relished in the cooler temperatures that evening brought with it, the sun’s seemingly everlasting warmth having finally begun to fade. Few people lined the streets of the city, though plenty of cheers from the jovial patrons of Puspa Café could be heard as he strolled past. The place never lacked in waves of energy especially during those final hours of sunlight before the moon rose and called them all to their homes. On any other night Kaveh might consider joining the throng of people revelling in the atmosphere, but tonight he had one specific goal in mind: To drag his roommate back to their shared home. Usually Kaveh did not like to volunteer himself as Alhaitham’s caretaker, companion, or even acquaintance. In fact, most barely knew the two were acquainted, let alone living together for a time. However, despite their differences, Kaveh did care somewhat for Alhaitham's wellbeing. It didn't take much to notice the increased whispers around the Akademiya of Alhaitham's new position, nor the sheer amount of work and responsibility forced upon him. Kaveh had barely believed it the first time he caught wind of Alhaitham's seniority but if his roommate's sour attitude was anything to go by, then it became undoubtedly clear he was being held at his office far longer than he wanted to be.
Usually Alhaitham would be home like clockwork to get some well earned rest before the daily cycle began once again and also check that Kaveh hadn't yet destroyed the place with all of his blueprints and models. Of course if you asked Kaveh, he'd proclaim how he strived himself on being an exceptional roommate who gave Alhaitham no reason to doubt his behaviour. If you asked Alhaitham, however, the Scribe would be inclined to disagree. Even still, despite their differences it was strange for Alhaitham to not have returned home by now. Sensing something wasn't quite right, Kaveh pulled himself away from his current project planning and made his way to the Akademiya in search of some answers. Walking through the Akademiya at this time of day sent chills down Kaveh’s spine, reminding him of all the nights he spent pouring his brain over documents to eventually throw together for his thesis. He did not miss those days. A student passed him in the corridor, dark circles beneath their eyes and a stack of books with loose papers messily slotted between in their arms. He definitely did not miss those days.
Upon arriving at Alhaitham’s office door, Kaveh didn't bother to knock and instead walked straight in. The sight that he was greeted with was even worse than expected. If you asked Kaveh any other day he’d answer that Alhaitham never looked good, but today? This was something else entirely. He looked positively ghostly. More than anything, he looked as though he needed to sleep for an entire week. His face was paler than usual and his eyes bore evidence of a disturbance to his sleep schedule. Kaveh didn't doubt that Alhaitham had been sleeping, if the blanket strewn across the lounge chair was anything to go by, but even a subtle change to Alhaitham's schedule was enough to throw him off kilter.
“What are you doing in my office? Is seeing you at home not punishment enough?” Alhaitham spoke, his voice sounding just as tired as his appearance suggested. It seemed the Scribe did not lose his sharp tongue even in the throes of exhaustion.
“Hilarious. Interesting you mention our home when you’ve barely even been there this last week.”
Alhaitham raised an eyebrow as he sat back in his chair. “Oh? Did someone miss me?”
A frustrated sigh escaped Kaveh’s lips, a frequent occurrence in these bouts with Alhaitham. Despite the anger that threatened to swell upon witnessing the smug expression that decorated Alhaitham’s face, Kaveh remained steadfast and determined. He wasn't losing this fight. “Not as much as you clearly miss sleep. When was the last time you slept in an actual bed?”
“Is that an offer?”
“If you don’t give me an honest answer I can and will drag you by that stupid cape of yours through the streets of Sumeru until I force you to rest. I get that you’re Mr Popular right now at the Akademiya but that’s not an excuse to hole up in your office for days. What happened to the Alhaitham who was up and out of his office the second his work hours ended?"
Alhaitham stayed in his seat, entirely unmoved by his roommate’s arrival in his office. “I have little choice in the matter. Not that it’s any interest of yours, but I have paperwork to do.”
“One of these days I’m going to be responsible for severely injuring the Akademiya’s precious Scribe. Actually, that might be a good idea to get you to finally leave that damn desk.”
Alhaitham sighed as he rose from his chair. He knew deep down that Kaveh was right for once. He despised being in his office any longer than necessary and with every hour that passed, Alhaitham could feel his body weighing heavier and heavier. The need for rest was all-too-present and he knew ignoring it would do him no good. “If you’re going to be a pain in my ass here at least wake me up in an hour,” he instructed as he collapsed onto the lounge chair, eyes already closed and pulling him under.
“What do you think I am? Your personal alarm?” Kaveh scoffed, indignance sinking into every pore of his skin at the sight of Alhaitham already fast asleep. How the man could pass out so quickly was beyond Kaveh.
“Insufferable idiot.” His attention turned toward Alhaitham’s desk and the paperwork that adorned it, all different kinds of documents both for his usual tasks as Scribe in addition to all the notes regarding the assignment of the new Sages. It was all far too much for one person to manage alone.
“I suppose this work won’t finish itself, will it?” Kaveh took a seat at Alhaitham’s desk and prepared himself for the following hour of filing through everything. He might bicker and fight with his roommate a great deal, but he could set that aside for tonight. Just tonight.
