Hi There Please Could I Get Headcanons For Umemiya, Suo, Kyotaru And Togame On What Their Love Languages

◇ Things that make his heart melt ◇

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🌿 Warning: Spoilers 🌿

🪷 [ It wasn't in my plans before, but I really want to comfort these boys ]

🪷 [ Cuties, I see your requests and don't forget about them. I'm going through a little stressful period right now, so it may take a little longer than I wanted, but I'm already working on it ]

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ㅡ Suo, Sakura, Umemiya

Suo

Sincere care for him

Everyone knows that Suo is strong in every sense. He is also smart, restrained, independent and confident.

It is not uncommon for people to admit such thoughts in his direction as 《 He is strong/smart/hardy, he will cope 》, waving away unnecessary worries.

But not you. You've never neglected it and it came from the heart. You knew that Suo was far from weak and admitted it, but it never affected the level of your concern for him. Yes, he is, but this does not mean that you can take less care of him, referring to the fact that he can do it himself.

Strong people can take care of the difficulties outside and also take care of themselves. But if they can, it doesn't mean that it's easy for them.

You always paid attention to his comfort in one situation or another, did some small and inconspicuous things that actually made a big difference.

Starting from the way you imperceptibly put a cooling compress in his furin jacket pocket before patrolling on a hot day or a a small pocket warmer in winter, and ending with silent hugs at the right moment to maintain peace in his soul.

It wasn't just a superficial concern, it was about his feelings.

At first, he somehow automatically shielded himself from it, it was his defense mechanism. He didn't want to admit that he needed it in any way, he didn't want you to think that he had at least some weaknesses to know the truth.

However, time and your perseverance have done their job. Over time, Suo began to accept your truly deep concern, letting it into his heart and passing through it.

And believe me, it made his heart blossom.

Sakura

Listening and hearing

Sakura, as a person who has spent his whole life alone, is not used to conducting dialogues and generally having any long-term relationships with people.

That's why, when he first caught himself telling you about some hobby of his with a desire, and at that time you were really listening attentively to him, he felt this terribly strong and strange feeling in his chest.

Of course, at the same moment he fell into a stupor, and then he got angry because he was confused. You still don't understand why he abruptly stopped talking, flushed red in annoyance, and then abruptly said goodbye and ran away.

Poor boy, for him, these feelings seem especially strong. Because it was the first time for him.

You knew it was very difficult for Sakura to open up to people. That's why, when he started sharing his thoughts with you or telling you something, you immediately put all the worries in your head aside and focused on Sakura.

You wanted him to feel heard so that he would understand that you want to hear and listen to him

And it was at such moments that the young man's heart seemed to melt like ice under the warm rays of the spring sun.

God, you really make this boy happy.

Umemiya

Special intimate moments between you

When you are alone, he's lying on your lap, and you're stroking his head.

It is this moment that permeates Hajime's heart and soul with sparkling threads that touch his most sensitive and vulnerable points.

At this moment, he feels as if he is transported back to childhood, when he was still a carefree, happy, beloved little boy, surrounded by family love and a sense of childish lightness.

Once he had lost this happiness, these incredible sensations, but now he had found them again. In a different form, but the same happiness.

He is lying on your lap, and your fingers are tangled in his white hair while you stroke him and at this moment Umemiya feels this warmth again, he is sincerely loved again, he is again childishly carefree and happy, he is home again.

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DRIFTER'S BALLAD. ⋆·˚ ༘ *

synopsis: in which you come whirling into the wanderer’s life like a tempestous storm, bringing pleasant gales in your wake and an unsuspecting puppet under your thrall. (or, alternatively, you end up worming your way too deeply into the wanderer's life that he doesn't want to let go. uh oh)

warnings: 10k words, strangers to lovers!trope, pining, HUGE SLOWBURN, misunderstandings, angst, the wanderer is bad at feelings (the complete package), reader is a traveler but NOT the game traveler and has a hydro vision. aether is the canon mc. i have no idea if this is ooc, mentions of fontaine, some references to scara's past names n titles not really all that canon compliant so sorry abt that lol

mhie's notes: it took me 1 large cup of coffee and a portion of my soul to write this fic and i think im severely delirious rn. honestly hate the ending but fuck it we ball, don't ask me why i randomly decided to churn out this monstrosity because idk it's the wanderer he does that alot, this is definitely my magnum flopus bc i hate it but also what the fuck did i just write. anyways enjoy?????

Sumeru is, quite literally, a breath of fresh air.

The nation of Dendro is nothing short of lustrous, lush, and teeming with life— various aromas of delicacies you’ve never even set eyes upon before; colorful wares the merchants of Sumeru City proudly flaunt, varieties of daily necessities and souvenirs all on display.

Yes, this would be the perfect place for you to temporarily take up residence in.

Once you got used to it, at least.

But trouble always follows the unprepared, especially for someone yet to be acquainted with such a place so humid like Sumeru, and you certainly don’t expect to find yourself robbed the moment you let down your guard sightseeing.

“Hey, hey! Get back here, you thief! That's my mora!”

Your shamelessness admittedly gets you strange looks by the locals there, but you hardly pay them any mind, too focused on actually getting your valuables back and potentially saving yourself from being in extreme poverty. Adventuring was already costly as it is. You didn't need a run for your money.

Just a little more and you could get to that thief… you were so close…!

…So close until you bump into someone at the worst timing known to Teyvat. Already irritated, it doesn't take long for you to direct such anger to said someone, despite knowing just how foolish that notion was. “Ugh! Hey, do you mind?! I was just about to get that damn no good th-”

“-ief…?”

The first thing you notice about the someone that you bump into is that oh, he's beautiful.

Not handsome, no, beautiful. Ethereal, almost. As if his visage was crafted by the very Gods themselves.

And then you notice that hat.

It was huge, clearly not of Sumerian origin, and now that you look closer, his clothing resembles that of certain Inazuman individuals… Right, what was the word again? Shugenja?

He hardly looked the part though, especially with that face. You've always thought monks would've had a kinder face. This guy's face however, seemed stormy. Melancholic, in a way— you can't deny that he is likely the most attractive person you've ever come across in ages.

“Oh, ah-! I'm sorry for bumping into you!” Archons above, your voice was so weak. What was up with you? Did tumbling into some random guy mess with your brain so bad you seem to see him in rose-tinted lenses now?

And was it just you, or did he seem to look forlorn for a moment? He seemed quite aimless, too… maybe missing someone?

That brief glimpse of sorrow fades from his gaze like a flash of thunder, as if it was never there in the first place, and a sigh escapes the beautiful stranger’s lips, mildly displeased. “It’s fine. Watch where you're going next time.”

A pause, before he looks towards the direction of where the thief last scuttled off to, in a rather sketchy corner of the Grand Bazaar. “If you're done staring, the guy you were chasing went that way, by the way.”

...??

“Oh. Oh, right! Sorry, sorry, I have to go… Thank you for telling me though!”

You don't hear his response as you zip past him.

(Oh. Archons. He looked so beautiful. There's heat travelling to your face and you're not sure if that's the adrenaline from running or just a side effect of that eye-catching stranger.)

Although, a small part of your mind can't help but wonder why such a pretty person seemed to be making such a sad face.

── ➶-͙˚ ༘✶ ──

Thankfully, all was well after that encounter with that stranger. Like the heavens themselves answered your pleas, it was just your luck that a matra had spotted the thief, and by extension, you.

Turns out that the thief was quite well-known, having robbed quite a lot of people to warrant himself a top priority capture in the Matra’s jurisdiction. Apparently, he used to be a researcher that fell from grace at Sumeru’s most well-known academic institution, the Akademiya. Really, scholars were quite the odd bunch, weren't they…

Being severely hungry as a result of the chase, you end up going to a certain Lambad’s Tavern and, in a sick twist of fate, you find the stranger there again, sipping away at a cup of coffee, looking like it's no one's business what he's up to.

This time, it's his hat that you notice, not his face. In the back of your mind, you wonder why he didn't take it off. He was already inside the tavern, so why didn't he remove that big hat of his?

(He suits the hat, though.)

You don't know what drives you to move forward, whether it be liquid courage or just because of the way he seemed to be someone you were oddly drawn to, somehow. Even if you've only met him just earlier.

So, with a smile and determination on your face, you approach him, sitting down from across his seat. He visibly stops, and you can see that he's internally weighing whether to drive you out. “You're the stranger from earlier, right? The one who helped me?”

“...” Not a talkative one, is he?

“Y’know, staying silent forever won't stop me from asking. You mind if I can sit here?”

You can see him exhale out a sigh, as if the very notion of answering tires him to his bones. Okay, how rude. “Do what you want. Just keep your voice down. Don't you know people need their peace?”

You raise your brow. “Well, don't you know it's polite to make small talk?”

“Heh, well, sorry to disappoint you, but I don't know, in fact, since I rarely engage in them. Trivial things like that are no use to me.”

“Wow, what a life you must live then, with that mindset of yours.”

He gives you a condescending look. “Yeah, it's great. Perfectly content with this mindset of mine, thanks.”

You should be fuming right now, really. At the sheer audacity of this blue-garbed stranger, at his extremely candid and no filter words. But you aren't. If anything, it was quite charming. “You have a knack for throwing people off, don't you?”

“Hah, that's their problem. You humans can be annoyingly sensitive sometimes, after all.” another sip of his coffee follows suit.

Humans. Was he a non-human then if he seems to exclude himself from that category? What an interesting stranger.

You ask for his name; he's reluctant, letting another beat of silence pass before he gives it to you. Wanderer. What kind of person names someone Wanderer? Maybe he wasn't human after all.

As if sensing the weird look you give him, he noticeably bristles up. “What? Got a problem with that name?”

“No, it's just…” you pause, before you grin uncontrollably. “Pfft, ahahahahaha! What kind of strange name is that? That sounds so cool! Yet so- Er, sorry, how do I say it? Ah, right. Eccentric! That's quite the eccentric name you got there, Wanderer.”

(He tenses slightly. How strange, being reminded of the past in the company of a stranger.)

“With the way you seem so amused by my name, I’d think you'd put me off as some clown on the streets.” he grumbles, but makes no motion to actually be offended by your words. “Your order’s here. Best you compose yourself or you’d make a mess laughing yourself silly.”

“Oh, you're right..!” and indeed, your delicious order of Sabz Meat Stew comes in right at the perfect time, the smell of the mild lemon and aromantic spices wafting through the air in a harmonious blend. You could almost drool at the sight in front of you.

When you accidentally burn yourself by immediately taking a small sip of the stew, there's a snicker from across you from Wanderer, his expression mildly amused.

“Even sturmbeasts have the patience to wait till it isn't hot. If I didn't know any better, I’d say you’d finish that stew in one go.”

You huff. “Well, I'm hungry, so just spare me the clever quips, will you? Or I just might.”

Unbeknownst to you, a strange feeling of nostalgia wells deep within him when he sees you scarf down the stew, albeit quite gracelessly.

There's awe in your expression for such a simple thing, just a broth made from herbs and meat.

It reminds him a little bit too much of the puppet he was before, that starry-eyed face.

What an interesting stranger.

── ➶-͙˚ ༘✶ ──

“Ah! It's you again, Wanderer!”

He can see you scrambling to get to his side, and frankly, he doesn't even know why he ended up here, focusing on the now muddy path in front of him. The rain rumbles on, getting stronger by the minute.

He'd been getting restless as of late, always dreaming, the ghosts of the past being more of a pain lately. Since Lesser Lord Kusanali did tell him to take it easy… even she couldn't blame him if he couldn't help but want to leave the stuffy air of the Akademiya. She'd understand.

Probably.

So here he was, in some corner of Avidya Rainforest, walking through the heavy rain. This was his life now, being a wanderer. To think that he, a former Fatui, a Harbinger at that, would end up writing research papers about how that recluse’s nation ended up is now letting time pass by aimlessly walking through this inconvenient rain shower… truly, he's fallen far from grace.

“Wha-! Hey, don't ignore me! You're going to get soaked..!”

Though with your appearance, he supposes it wasn't a bad decision. Even if his ears hurt from your volume.

“Shouldn't you be worrying about yourself rather than me?”

Unlike him, you were visibly soaked, rain droplets littering the expanse of your form, the water making your clothes cling to you like a second skin. You wave your hand dismissively at his statement.

“It's no big deal. I'm used to heavy rainfall already, on the road and all… and besides, I gave away my umbrella to a merchant passing by before coming here. But in any case-!”

You grab at his wrist, and he could easily shove you away, tell you to leave him be, but somehow, he doesn't. “What are you doing?”

“Getting shelter, obviously!” and just like that, you take him by the hand, hiding under his hat, whirling past the strong breeze, unwavering, running towards the nearest shade you can find. “The both of us will end up soaked at this rate!”

Your hands are warm in his own.

Soft, gentle. So unlike his own cold, mechanically structured joints. A small part of him loathes the sensation.

Human touch reminded him of what he was, after all. Created, artificial. So different from the warmth of your fingertips, of the heart you housed in your body. It’s a bitter reminder of what he had yearned to be, and what he could never be.

And yet inexplicably, the Wanderer finds that he doesn't hate this particular touch.

(How bothersome.)

The two of you find shelter in the form of a huge tree, big enough to block out the temporary rain, and he watches as you gather your bearings, checking your travel bag for any soaked items. He can see that you're diligent, tirelessly taking out the items that seem to be a lost cause, and leaving the ones that seem salvageable to dry near the shade. You even hum a tune while doing so.

Hah, how carefree.

“So, why did you give it away?”

“Huh? What do you mean?”

“Your umbrella. Humans get sick easily, and only an idiot would give up their umbrella in this downpour, so why bother giving it to someone else? They won't even return it.”

He can see you purse your lips, contemplating how to answer his words. Then, you shrug. “Guess I just wanted to. Doesn't hurt anyone if you just wanted to do something good.”

Are you serious?

“But you'd be the one inconvenienced. It's not worth it.”

“Says who? That merchant looked troubled, and if I could help him even with something small as giving my umbrella, then it's worth it.”

How vexing. This unabashed kindness certainly takes him for surprise; You could've easily ignored that merchant, like all humans do, and go on with your life, perfectly dry and dandy. He would certainly do that, anyway. But then again, he wasn't exactly the giving type, and he wasn't a saint. Who was he to judge?

A few moments of silence pass, and even for him, this awkwardness is stifling.

“...Say, do you think it was a bad decision?” he can't discern anything deep in your tone except for the simple desire to keep up cordial conversation. “Giving my umbrella away, I mean.”

“No.” he answers immediately, despite not really knowing why he answered that way. He doesn't even think it was a good decision to give it away in the first place. “It wasn't.”

“Why?” there's curiosity in your voice, and for a moment he seems out of it, plunged into a bygone memory. Why indeed?

(“It’s only natural for people to want to help someone in need. It's in our nature.”

“I'm not exactly.... 'people' though, Niwa.”

A bygone laugh lost time echoes across the breeze.

“Who says you aren't included? Everyone could use a helping hand. Naturally, it applies to those who aren't human too, Kabukimono. But I already did tell you, right?

You're human just like the rest of us, as far as I'm concerned.”)

The voice of Niwa echoes in his mind, a passing thought.

“Its in human nature to want to help people, and because just a simple thing like that meant there was one person who wanted to reach out to you,” a pause, before he adds something far more personal than his normally guarded self would.

“-and because that meant there was at least someone who wanted to help you, even if for nothing in return. Just wanting to do something good. No strings attached.

…It's not a bad thing, at least.”

(This, he supposes, is one of the things that made him long to be like them in the first place.)

You probably wouldn't know just how much it took for him to say these words, just how much your passing words seemed to impact him. You probably wouldn't know either, how saying these words, forcing them out from his artificed jaw had made some part of him feel infinitely lighter. Snapping an invisible shackle from his body.

Making him feel a little more free, in a way.

“Hm.” You fall back into that silence, and he can see you musing to yourself about his words. “Is that what you think?”

??? “I guess so.”

He doesn't see the smile on your face. “You’re a good person, Wanderer.”

Hah. What a joke. Him? A good person? If only you knew. “You shouldn't just assume things about me just because of my words.”

What part about him was good? Humans truly loved to jump into conclusions easily.

(He's a fire, turning everything he cherishes to ashes, and then blaming it on himself. Hazardous to everyone around him. He's nothing like a good person.)

And yet he elicits a laugh out of you, melodious and clear, the sound strangely pleasant in his ears. What audacity.

“Yeah? Well, I guess it's just a feeling. You're pretty blunt, but you have this strange sincerity to you, you know? I like that. It's good, that honesty. It means you can accept the harsh parts of life people normally turn a blind eye to and move forward. That makes you a good person, that type of mindset.”

(Huh. He's never thought of it that way.)

It was still raining. Wanderer can hear the pitter-patter of the droplets from above the tree, gloomy sky overhead. It's sorry weather and this was one sorry conversation, hitting too close to something he thought he had long buried in the dust.

“You’re strange.” he mutters, and you laugh again, smile playing on your lips.

“Thanks, I get that alot.” you snark playfully, turning away from him, already getting back to fixing your things.

The weather was gloomy and dark, but the glow of your smile seemed to overshadow it all.

Indeed, how strange, this conversation.

For the first time in a long, long time, when he dreams, the Wanderer finds that the restlessness that plagued him isn't as suffocating as before.

── ➶-͙˚ ༘✶ ──

“Woah, you can really see the best view here!”

Had he not heard the crunch of the leaves under your feet, perhaps he would've startled, immediately throwing you off with a simple gale from his anemo powers. But you'd probably end up showering him with that stupid hydro vision of yours, so he doesn't entertain the thought, at least for now.

You plop down next to him on the soft bed of grass, one knee propped up to rest your head on. He follows suit, sitting down at one of the vantage points he's come across.

For some reason or another, you both find yourself in each other's company too many times for Wanderer to count. Whether it be from him passing by you in Sumeru City, or spending time at Avidya Forest and seeing you help around with those Forest Rangers, he certainly has seen quite a lot of you these days.

Whenever you do cross paths, he gets dragged into unsavory situations like helping out the people in Avidya Forest, getting a meal at some tavern you introduce him to, ever spontaneous with the incessant conversations about the mundane that he can't help but indulge in.

It has gotten to the point where he begrudgingly accepts the title you bestow upon him as friends.

Ridiculous, unnecessary. He didn't need a human connection, not now, not ever. Why the hell did he not rebuke you? He's received titles that are far more intricate and complex than you could ever imagine, ever comprehend.

(He won't say that he actually does enjoy it, being someone you consider your friend.)

You talk about your travels, about the nations you've been in, about damn almost everything possible. He's never enjoyed chatty humans, but your presence exudes comfort in some way, one that he can't help but return to, despite all his complaints and grumbles about it. He can bicker with you all he likes, spout insults upon insults from his lips, and you'd still see through him anyway, calling him out on his true intentions.

(“You know, you're kinder than you give yourself credit for.”

“That's ludicrous. Did the daydreaming rot your brain too much?”

“You say that, but if so, why are you so insistent in helping me with these simple things?”

A cart full of Zaytun peaches in his hands and yours. A commission for more mora. Your commission. He could've let you do it yourself. So why?

Both of you know why, but the puppet you've come to be endeared with is far too prideful to admit the true reason.

“That's... It was just in a whim. That's all. It's nothing like what you think it is.”

“Heh, sure, whatever you say, Kuni.”)

Whether you've intended to or not, you've glued yourself by his side to the point where he doesn't even know when there's a day he hasn't heard your enthusiastic voice talking about who knows what, and somehow, he finds that he doesn't tire of it at all.

If anything, your presence by his side is like a refreshing breather from everything in his life.

You've helped him immensely, despite the fact that it likely took you a great many times trying to break through his demanding and standoffish nature. For that, Wanderer truly does feel grateful for the fact that you chose to stay by his side despite how prickly he often lauds himself as. It's beneath him, it should be, it is.

(You've made it clear that he can easily get out of this strange arrangement as he sees fit, but even if it came to, the Wanderer can't find it in him to complain. He never does.)

In the duration of your time together, he finds that being the subject of your attention and companionship is something he takes great pleasure in, amugness and haughtiness aside. And frankly? He's firmly attached to it now, and he's sure as hell he's now unwilling to let such an addictive and warm feeling slip by his grasp.

…Maybe Buer wasn't so foolish about this whole companionship thing after all.

(“We’re friends now, you know! Companions, whatever you wanna call it.”

He can see the mirth on your face, the upturn of your lips. He can hear your laugh, and he can almost see your eyes crinkling around the corners. He didn't answer then, only turning his hat away from you to hide his face which houses a smile he’d rather not show you, given your teasing nature.

“Hmph. What childish whims you make me take part in.”

He'd also rather not show you how red his face was, but that was besides the point.

“Aww, you're shy! Hehe, I knew you weren't all gloomy and sarcastic! Come on, let me see how much you like being called my companion!”

“...Be quiet or I’ll take back my words.”

Laughter peals out of you, and the sound makes his smile just a tad bit bigger.

Your friend. Your companion.

That wasn't so bad.)

Out of all the humans he's come across, he thinks you're the most bearable.

The soft glow of the setting sun paints a picturesque view of Sumeru’s forest, amplified by the soft blend of reds, yellows and orange which makes the sunset look even more wonderful. Your hydro vision glints by the angle of the light hitting it, situated near your heart. Similar to his vision’s own placement, he notes with satisfaction.

The occasional breeze passes through as well, making your hair all messed up.

(Endearing.)

“Guess you were right. It is quite pretty here.” You continue, again, smiling at him with that irritatingly dazzling smile as you turn back to the sunset. Something in him stirs.

“The view is... bearable at best.”

He can see you scrunch your face in feigned irritation. “Jeez, just say you agree!”

Wanderer doesn't respond, content to drink in the comfortable silence between you two.

Indeed, for all his wandering, he'd come across many sights that were quite tolerable, a fact that you would understand most, being of similar standing as a traveler. This view in particular better than the rest, he muses.

You look good with the setting sun in the background, lighting your skin aglow. Not that he'd ever admit it to your face or else he'd probably face even more teasing from you, irksome terribly nosy as you are.

You both stay that way, watching the sun descend below the horizon, melting away like a soft flame, the darkness of the night soon to come.

“Hey, Wanderer?”

“What is it this time?” Masking it with feigned irritation, he hopes the fondness of his expression doesn't reach your eyes.

“Thanks for showing me such a pretty view.”

The Wanderer turns to you, the words he painstakingly garnered after internally warring with himself die on his lips, seeing you watch the blood red sun soon disperse, leaving the flickering embers of reds and orange in its wake.

The view, huh?

Yeah, it wasn't so bad.

---

“Oh! Welcome back. You stayed out quite late. Did you have a good time with [Name]?”

Nahida’s gentle tone greets him when he returns. She knows of you, given how frequently you've visited the Sanctuary of Surasthana to bother the ever so aloof puppet. The Sanctuary is relatively quiet, save for the occasional light noise of Wanderer's geta sandals as he descends down the steps.

Night has long graced Sumeru City, the pitch black darkness encompassing the nation, but the lights down below still find that the City itself is still bustling with life, likely soon to close up as the people get ready to rest after a hard day's work.

“It wasn't anything special.” she looks at him quizzically, intent to seek a reaction from the ever so guarded puppet.

It's only when she gets close enough that she stops, a small, knowing smile creeping up her face.

“It was just to see the sunset for a few minutes.”

There, from a miniscule glimpse from behind his face does she notice it.

The red on his cheeks that's all too similar to the shade around his eyes.

── ➶-͙˚ ༘✶ ──

It's been a while since you and the Wanderer have graciously known each other (his words), and to her most eager surprise, Nahida finds that it seems you've changed the puppet for the better.

He's visibly less prone to snapping at people, more mild-tempered (which is a huge improvement in her book) and can even hold conversations with others more— granted, only if she or you were there.

Of course, he still actively avoids delving into the trivialities of mortals, but is content to stay in your company.

His thesis and research papers have seen the light of day more often too, being given to her days early in advance when he normally would've waited till the deadline to submit them.

(“I see that your productivity has increased with regards to your academic endeavors. That's good news!

If I may, what’s with the change of heart?”

She could see the Wanderer scoff, rolling his eyes and crossing his arms, defensive. Like a cat with its fur on end, she likens.

“That's not your business to be concerned about. Besides, aren't you glad I'm finally putting up with this tiresome activity you've given me to learn more about myself like you wanted?”

“Anyway, just take it already. I just-” he'd sputtered then, so uncharacteristic of his normally apathetic nature, tipping his hat low away from her as he hands her the stack of papers.

She doesn't miss the pink hue splattered across his face. The sight is familiar.

“I'm in a hurry to meet someone, and these boring research papers will end up making them wait for me even longer. Need I say anything else?”)

In fact, by the way he's acting lately— the constant hovering around you under the guise of simply going out of the Akademiya to gather research material, the various times she's caught the both of you asleep, shoulder to shoulder in the corners of the House of Daena, scribbles of shared notes and books around you two, the way the Wanderer seems more keen on interacting with you than others…

The rumors that seem to point to him spending much more time outside the Akademiya, and sightings of him across various parts of Sumeru with a certain someone.

And to hit the final nail in the coffin, the final puzzle piece of the dichotomy of the puppet she's harbored in her tutelage, she even caught him making a certain something with great care that's normally atypical of him, clearly tailored to the taste for a certain someone.

Yes, by the information at hand, she could even say that the Wanderer is….

No. She shouldn't jump to conclusions just yet. Wisdom came with knowledge, and she didn't have sufficient knowledge to prove whether her hypothesis was correct.

The wisdom she's gaining here is still invaluable despite it being an arbitrary decision she had just thought of; She had nothing to lose here, and this would bode well in order for her to understand the workings of the puppet once called the Balladeer.

A creak of the Sanctuary’s doors alerts her to the appearance of someone coming inside.

“Nahida…?”

Ah. Perfect timing. It seems she’ll get the answers to her questions today.

“[Name]! What a nice surprise. What brings you here? Is the Wanderer giving you any trouble?”

The shake of your head is vehement, and you're quick to defend the prickly puppet at once. “No, no way! Well– Not too much trouble, anyway. You know how he can be.”

She smiles at that, slightly relieved at how earnest you answer. As expected, you were truly a sweet one, and she can tell why the puppet is intent on sticking by your side. “I see. Then, a friendly chat? If that's the case, feel free to chat with me. We're all friends here, after all.”

“Well… Yeah, about that.” Your expression is sheepish, a little meek. She keeps a mental note of the small color adorning your cheeks. “I wanted to ask for some advice. You know? For me- I mean! For a friend! Yes, for a friend, haha…”

“A friend?” she can play along with this if it meant she would gain insight to her current predicament. “Well then, ask away! Please tell me what this friend of yours needs advice on.”

A deep breath from you, willing yourself to take out the words lodged in the back of your throat.

“Say, Nahida. What would you do if you realize that someone who you've recently spent a lot of time with makes you feel… well, makes you feel, you know.”

Oh?

The God of Wisdom can almost giggle at the way you're trying to get your words to make sense, stringing them together in an instant. When you've clearly mulled it over enough, Nahida cranes her neck to hear your voice.

“Mm? What was that, [Name]?”

You take a deep breath, and spill everything to her.

By the time you exit the Sanctuary of Surasthana, she's trying hard not to fight but a grin on her face, and ultimately falls short.

There's only one final conclusion she's came to, and the puzzle has already come together.

Now, she wonders, if her conclusion was indeed right, how would it go from here? Once she'd understood the situation at hand, she'd given you just a small hint at the feelings she knows is simmering beneath the normally composed Wanderer, and hopes that you'd do well with such information.

This time, would a puppet such as him accept what was to be offered to him? Or would he turn away from it, as he always used to do with what he truly wished to have?

Truly, there were still many questions in this world that needed answering, and this was no exception.

---

“Are you done speaking with Buer?”

The puppet with the huge hat is by your side the instant you exit the Sanctuary. Instead of the usual exuberant energy, the you he's greeted with seems more quiet.

What did that damn god do? He swears, if she had even offended you in some way, he'd–

“....” Still quiet.

“Hey, have you grown mute or something? Look at me.”

“Huh? Oh, yeah. We talked. Just about… something trivial. About my travels, that's all! Don't waste your time thinking about it, Kuni.” you're visibly out of it, but you flash him a smile as you always do, immediately heading back to the City.

He's unconvinced that was just the content of your conversation, given that God's need for constant information. He might as well say it. She's more nosy than she gives herself credit for, so he rather hopes you didn't give in to her (most likely) constant questioning.

“Well, if you say so.” immediately turning on his heel and moving, he misses the look you send him, and the words you utter under your breath.

“Yeah, maybe I should trust Nahida.”

“You've always been good at looking past the surface, [Name]! I'm sure this time is no different.”

“Still, what if I thought wrong? What if he simply sees me as his companion, or like, a confidant, and not-”

“That's unlikely. I'm certain he feels the same. But it's always better to try.”

“Well, you're right about that. Are you really, really sure he'll respond the way you think he will?”

“You'll do great regardless of the outcome, you know. Even if things will change between you two because of your decision, the Wanderer will appreciate you regardless. You've been a huge solace to him. Knowing him, he won't let you slip through his grasp easily.”

It's silent for a moment.

“I sure hope you're right.” an exasperated, fond sigh escapes your lips. “Really, he can be so confusing sometimes. Guess that's part of his charm.”

“Hehe, that I agree. You'll definitely do well, [Name].”

“Thanks, Nahida.”

You're having second doubts about what you're doing, each step nearing the Sanctuary of Surasthana you've no doubt the Wanderer is in right now. He'd never willingly go anywhere else on his own accord unless it was here, after all.

In your hand, the small glint of the present you've prepared for a certain someone gleams, spotless and pristine. A lotus pin. Its petals contain liquid resin and encased in it, a real Nilotpala Lotus, the colors resembling the shade of the Wanderer's eyes the reason why you picked it in the first place.

(You hope he likes it.)

Aside from the pin, there's also the letter containing your heart— rather, the feelings that have threatened to burst ever since the day you've come across that beautiful puppet with the strange, strange name. The one you’ve considered to be the sole captor of your attention, and not long after, your adoration.

Ah, what's the point in lying to yourself? From the moment your eyes met those blue-indigo ones, you knew you stood no chance in the feelings that soon enveloped you.

It took some time to get over once you've realized it, the subtle shift of you and the Wanderer’s dynamic growing to be more and more difficult to ignore as you both spend time together.

Just how deeply have you begun to feel for this puppet, longing to be able to see all the sides of him?

His joy, his melancholy, his anger, his arrogance, his haughtiness…. The sides he condemns and holds in a tight grip, and the softer parts of himself which he desperately tries to hide.

How he always seems to be more patient when dealing with children or the elderly on your encounters in Sumeru City or Avidya Rainforest, how his words betray his true intentions, how he’s far more human than he ever believes himself otherwise, being the most caring person you've ever come across, in his own weird ways.

Every second you spend with him, you see even more parts of himself that he bares before you, trusting you to accept it and stay by his side even then. And you do.

You're completely and utterly enamored with him, it's terrifying.

Sumeru was just supposed to be another next stop for you. Being a traveller, partings and meetings with others were transient, fleeting. You didn't expect to feel the growing attachment to this fragile yet untouchable puppet swell until it consumed you.

(You didn't expect to care for him this much, to fall for him this deeply.)

He calls himself someone beneath such simple feelings, but you can't help but hope that perhaps he has grown to care for you as well, in one small corner of his heart.

He may say that he doesn't have one, a homage to his inhuman origins, but you're not buying it. How could you believe him, when all his actions proved otherwise?

You remember when he first opened up to you, a small sight into what made up his entire being, a glimpse behind those stubbornly unreachable walls he's conjured up to protect himself. The both of you were high up in one of the huge trees that only the rainforests of Sumeru can boast, under the canopy of leaves.

He'd been standing, looking at the stars with that same stormy expression you had first seen on him the day the both of you had first encountered each other.

You'd been in awe of the twinkling stars high up in the sky, to which the Wanderer had responded with his normal apathy, immediate nitpick about your supposed ‘simplemindedness at mere balls of gas in the heavens’. It had escalated, a conversation about the stars slowly turning in the direction of fate, and eventually towards questions about yourselves.

(“So I can call you by that name? Kunikuzushi?”

Even though you tried to hide it, there'd been an unmistakable grin on your face. He'd finally told you at least some part of his past! Perhaps this would lead you two to get closer.

And maybe….

Wanderer– Kunikuzushi, rather, crossed his arms, giving you a deadpan look. “You're so happy about that. It's just a name. Use it if you want to. Calling me Wanderer all the time is way too troublesome.”

“Troublesome? I don't think so, though? And of course I'm happy! Finally, here I thought you'd never tell me anything about yourself. This is cause for celebration, you know.”

“Hardly. Only simpletons like you would find it fit to be celebrated, but the sentiment is admirable.” Adorable, hiding his face beneath his hat. The small peek at the normally straight line that is his lips turning upwards tells you all you need to know.

“Riiight… In any case, Kunikuzushi is too long!” he grimaces at that. If it had been anyone else, he probably would've smited them for the slight insult. You aren't just anyone, though.

“So, can I call you Kuni?”

He takes his time weighing the option whether to be dissatisfied with the nickname or not, but in the end, ultimately decides the latter.

“Do whatever you want.”)

Whatever the case, you've already been persuaded by Nahida to tell him about your feelings.

You weren't going to run away from this. You won’t. You were going to give it to him. You were going to give it. Don't be a coward, [Name], this won't hurt anyone at all, and Kunikuzushi—

“What are you talking about, Buer? It's nothing like that.

....Look, they're not that important as you think, you've thought wrong. [Name] is just....”

The Wanderer's voice echoes loudly, irritated. And he's pissed, judging from his tone. Hiding near the steps to the entrance the Sanctuary of Surasthana, you can't help but listen in. Was he arguing with Nahida? And a mention of your name...?

“Are you sure? Because I thought—”

“Well, you thought wrong. There's no way I'd be attached to someone that's as troublesome as them, who can't even learn to take a hint that I don't want to be bothered.”

Huh?

“But, [Name] is a good person. They've clearly helped you immensely, and if you keep ignoring their impact on you, then…”

“They’ve done nothing. They're just– Look, whatever foolish flight of fantasy you've conjured in your head about me and them, it's nothing. Don't bother trying to refute me, because it really isn't anything.”

You hardly pay attention to Nahida's response, too busy trying to steady the emotions currently rushing through your body.

Normally, you’d immediately question his words, chalking them up as him just wanting others to stop prying into his business.

But the sincerity in his words, the finality of it- Was that what he really thought? You thought he at least appreciated your presence. Not… not this. You feel like your chest is threatening to burst.

Did you really mean nothing to him? Was all that time you've spent together really nothing?

You don't know. In fact, now that this riveting declaration he'd given had come to light, all you know is that you don't want to be here right now. He's talked about betrayal before, something in his past. He didn't divulge too many details, but you knew it wounded him deeply.

Now, though? you can't help but think it was you that had been betrayed.

To think that all this time….

Whatever traces of your earlier enthusiasm has died and snuffed out like a flickering candlelight. If he were to spot you now after you know how he truly feels about you, would you be able to face him?

There's only one answer. You can't.

You needed to get out of here, and fast.

So you did.

── ➶-͙˚ ༘✶ ──

When the Wanderer goes to the spot you two meet up frequently and doesn't find you there, he's mildly displeased.

His pride was far too big to quantify, so normally he would've brushed this off, but it was you. You, the only person he'd even relatively opened himself to.

Ever-present you, who he's grown to care for in more ways that he can admit. You, the person he can't help but be drawn to, the one being who's been on his mind far too many times to count. The one who's shown him that in this damn world, there were things that were worth something.

That he was worth something. Worthy of attention, companionship, and all the good things you've brought to him.

He shouldn't be feeling this way, because he really shouldn't. It was just a day without you, how hard could that even be?

But the sting of slight hurt can't help but surface at you not showing up at your designated meeting spot.

You don't show up the next day.

Or the next.

Or the next day after that. And the next day after that day.

There's a sinking feeling in the void where his heart lies, bitterness that can't compare to the coffee he takes in that stupid Lambad's Tavern.

Without the constant rambling of a certain someone inadvertently making his days lighter, his routine has grown as dull as it always has, now that you've left the picture.

(He despises this feeling.)

Ah. Again, someone else had left. You left. Left him just when he was so close to realizing the fact that maybe, this transient connection between you two should be something he could care for, that he was allowed to foster; Something that the Wanderer could finally hold dear.

What a joke.

Though his mind had long cemented the idea that you had indeed left him in the dust as all mortals he'd cherished had, some idiotic, hopeful part of him thought otherwise.

Would you really leave him without warning?

Without good reason? As much as he would like to say to himself that yes, you would, for fate has never been kind to a puppet such as he, always taking what he cherishes away from his grasp, deep down, he knows you wouldn't do that.

The [Name] he knows isn't like that. You could be mischievous, insufferable, stubborn to a head-ache inducing fault, but you weren’t someone who would leave without a reason.

You upheld your beliefs to a strict standard, too tough on yourself sometimes that he finds it irritating, and always so easy to sway. As much as he'd like to disagree, he knows you too much, so much that he undoubtedly believes you wouldn't leave without a reason.

As for why… There had to be a reason why you suddenly thought it was best if you would spend less time with him. Rather, that you stopped spending time with him.

Was it because of his personality?

Immediately, he chuckles humorlessly. Hah, don't be an idiot. If that was why you'd left then you would've left a long time ago.

Then…. something he’d said to hurt your feelings? He doesn't recall anything of the sort so why—

Oh. Oh.

(“Well, you thought wrong. There's no way I'd be attached to someone that's as troublesome as them, who can't even learn to take a hint that I don't want to be bothered.”)

Curse his traitorous tongue.

Immediately as his hopes had risen, they were crushed by the steady, disgusting realization that because of that one conversation with Lesser Lord Kusanali, you had deemed yourself unfit to stay by his side like he's secretly been wishing.

He didn't mean it.

As realization festers like an ugly weed poisoning his mind, it's fear that spikes him like little pin pricks all over his consciousness, before desperation takes over and worsens his already crumbling thoughts. He didn't mean for you to hear that. That wasn't what he meant.

Again, someone he held dear had been stripped away from him and it was all his fault. Again, he was the fool, the puppet that hoped for too much.

(“Nothing is so broken that it can't be fixed.”

“What kind of useless advice did you pick up on your travels? What a joke.”

“Hey, just so you know, I actually believe in this saying! After all, it's true. And it's a wonderful statement, don't you think?”)

“Nothing is so broken that it can't be fixed.” he murmurs to himself like a mantra, and though he tries to stomp it out, he can feel the rush of adrenaline pumping his mechanical joints, willing him forward.

He had to apologize. At least, clear up what you had heard that day, tell you that no, that wasn't what he meant. It wasn't what he meant at all.

This was selfish of him, truly, and he won't deny that perhaps he doesn’t deserve to face you, but who cares?

He's grown far too deep into this bond with you that even if Celestia itself had threatened to tear it apart, tear you two apart, he'd use every part of himself to resist, to tie back those broken strings, damn pride forgotten in the winds.

If it wasn't salvageable anymore, then he'd make it so that it is. He'd tell you that he didn't think you were a bother, or that you were just a simple passerby in his long life.

He'd tell you that he’s sorry, that you were more than those things, that you've been more than just a simple companion to him for a long time already. That you've been more than that for a long, long time. If you would allow it, he'd tell you that he—

No. He needs to focus on finding you first. That can wait until after he sees even a glimpse of you.

Now that he has a clear goal in mind, the Wanderer works with a brutal efficiency that he once harbored, back when he held the title of the Balladeer.

Though that version of him is long behind him, if it could speed up the process of finding you, then he'd use it.

He'd use any means necessary right now.

So, he heads to your residence, determination filling his body and a simple outcome in his sights.

── ➶-͙˚ ༘✶ ──

“Are you sure about this, [Name]? You said you really, really like Sumeru… Maybe you should really think about it more! You might regret it if you don’t!” 

Paimon’s voice is sympathetic, and clearly because of how haggard you looked. You thank the heavens she and Aether don't question the tear stains on your face. 

“Sorry, Paimon, but I’m sure. I’m not changing my decision.” your voice is a little hoarse from the crying from earlier and probably the day before that, but you put on a brave face to reassure the floating girl. “And right now, I'd think a trip to Fontaine is much better than staying in Sumeru.”

Aether and Paimon look at each other, concerned looks on their faces. It warms your heart, despite the fact that you don't know them all too well and just decided to tag along when they mentioned they were headed off to the Nation of Justice. 

You've only heard about Aether in passing, often talked about by the very reason you had even left the Land of the Dendro Archon. The hero of Mondsdat, the outlander, Sumeru’s savior, the endless titles leave you reeling even still. If it were any other day, perhaps you would be taken with him, someone you admire immensely in the flesh.

Too bad your heart is still stuck on one particular puppet. Really, what luck, falling for the one man (puppet) who was as untouchable as he was prideful.

This wasn’t you coping, no, but now that you think about it, this outcome wasn’t something to be surprised about. The Wanderer had made it clear his view on human relationships. It was you who had simply assumed that perhaps like those cliche light novels you’ve come across, maybe there could’ve been something else born out of the companionship you and the Wanderer shared.

“Just know that you’re always welcome to travel with us.” Aether says simply, giving you a simple smile. Luckily, you find it in you to smile back, just a bit. You’re really grateful for them.

But then your mind wanders, back to your residence, back to the contents of the conversation you’ve heard out of Kuni’s– Wanderer’s– mouth. Fine. If this was what he wanted, you stopping to bother him like he so loudly explained– then he’d get it.

The gift you’d made for him, the letter. Just thinking about it made you want to sink into a hole and just never come out.

(Maybe he’d come looking for you. Maybe he’d miss you, feel the depth of your absence like you do for him. You wish he does. You hope he does, really. You were really a goner.)

Looking at Port Ormos’ docks, watching the boat that’ll take all three of you to Fontaine get closer as you begin to forcefully open a new chapter of your adventures, your heart can’t find it in you to be excited at all, although normally you’d be thrilled at the idea of even visiting a nation you’ve been unfamiliar with. You’d probably be chatting away with Aether and Paimon right now, asking about the food, the best sights, everything.

You should be doing that. It’d give you a reason for your mind not to wander and think about the crippling weight of your decision and the feelings that are still very much stirring up within you, with the cause being a certain man with a large hat.

Ugh, could you even stop thinking about him? For all you know, Kuni might just happen to be around the corner and—

“And just what do you think you’re doing now, hm? Intending to leave after you so carelessly hadn’t informed me? Didn’t you say that we were companions? I get that you tend to be forgetful, but even so, this is too much.”

Oh my god.

You’ve never whipped your head around so fast, turning your body towards the source of that familiar, arrogant tone. Lo and behold, speak of the man and he shall appear. What in the world was he doing here? He looks like he’s about to murder someone right now. You hope that someone isn’t you, but there wasn’t anyone else he was looking at dead in the eye, so that’s all for your hopes.

(And why did you feel so relieved? Get a grip on yourself, you fool! This wasn’t a damn tragedy movie.)

From the corner of your eye, you can see Aether and Paimon giving you two strange looks. You can't blame them. It was weird seeing the normally unbothered Wanderer in the company of someone other than Nahida.

Nonetheless, you face him straight in the eye, eyebrows raised and defiant. “What are you doing here? Aren’t you supposed to be at Sumeru City?”

He tries to answer, but you can see that he falters momentarily, and that seamless face of his morphs into something that– you hope you weren’t imagining it– something that you can only plainly describe as regret, that in which you can’t help but feel an inexplicable pang in your heart.

Then, you notice it.

Pinned above his vision, with the golden feather he seems to carry with him everywhere. The lotus pin. Right, you’d left it at the inn you were staying in, not wanting to see it again after… Wait a moment, he’s wearing it.

You've hardly the time to feel elated when you feel it. A tug of your hand. You try to remove it from your own, but you’d underestimated the strength he harbors in that lithe body of his; he’s pulling you to the side, immediately heading in the opposite direction. For a moment you’re almost swept into the visage that seems straight out of a romance novel, his hand firmly in place in yours. “Wh-! Hey, Wanderer, wait…!”

Only when you’ve both crossed a specific distance from the docks and in a rather sketchy alleyway with no prying eyes to bother you both does he see fit to let go of you, stopping abruptly that you almost bump into him had it not been for his hat.

It's almost ironic. You'd first met him in an alleyway not too dissimilar to this, and now you're both in another alleyway, this time not as strangers, but as two individuals who have wormed their way into each other's lives so deeply that the presence of the other bleeds, so entangled and mixed into the life of the other in a manner that allowed something far more personal to fester like ink bleeding into a blank canvas, unable to be scrubbed away.

“What were you thinking?”

Is he actually asking this now? What’s more, not even sparing a single glance at you. Honestly, you’ve had it with him. If he wanted to play this way, then so be it.

“What am I thinking? What are you thinking?” you hiss, crossing your arms. “I was just heading off to a new destination of mine, like all travelers do. Yet you act like it’s the end of the world or something. If anything, aren’t you glad I’m not here to bother you anymore?”

“'...So you did hear me and Lesser Lord Kusanali’s conversation. I knew it. Tell me, what else did you hear?”

“That’s… none of your business. Now leave me be, the boat’ll be arriving soon and I don’t intend to be late. Unless you’re purposefully trying to stop me?” 

A smirk from him. So he still had the gall to look haughty? “What if I am trying to stop you? What would you do then?”

“Then I’d run away.”

“You know I’m faster than you, right? Or are you forgetting I can use my vision to keep up?”

“So? It can’t hurt to try. Who knows, maybe I’ll use my vision to walk on water to escape you. That'd be a sight to see.” you say, stubbornly sticking to your stand. “Enough bickering, Wanderer, let’s just save the small talk and get to the point. Why are you really here?”

Again, that look of regret flashes across his face. “....”

You wait for him to speak. When he doesn’t, you immediately turn away back to the direction of the boat. Of course that gets him talking.

“I didn’t mean them. The things I said to Buer, it- it wasn’t…. I really didn’t mean it, [Name].” there’s urgency in his voice, a hint of desperation too, one that seemed almost at the edge of tipping over. “Believe me, I didn’t mean them, I swear.”

You aren’t ready for this right now. “Then why say it in the first place? To Nahida, too…! I can’t possibly believe that you didn’t mean them.”

“I’ll keep saying it till you believe it.” the intensity in his voice is firm and determined, surety in it that makes you feel warm from head to toe. Dangerous. He really doesn't know just how much he affect you.

“You’re more than just a companion to me.”

── ➶-͙˚ ༘✶ ──

Please, self-control. Do not be swayed by that face.

But the softness in his tone when he says these words inform you of the sincerity of what the Wanderer is trying to convey, the nature of his words right out in the open, unmasked and raw, bearing itself to you. Genuine regret and guilt fill his expression, and if you decide to look closer, you can see it. The small outline of tears from his eyes.

You can’t look at him. You can’t, or else you know you’re going to be a goner.

“How do I know that’s not a lie?” you challenge, voice small, sneaking a peek at him. There’s a breathless chuckle from him, as if endeared by the thought. The expression he holds right now leaves your mind utterly blank, the fondness in it, the affection seeping from his eyes in waves, a fact that you notice firsthand. You always notice.

“Do you really always have something to say at a time like this?” his words lack bite, amused more than anything. “Then, if you don’t believe me…”

He draws closer to you, close enough that you can push him away if you so desired. You can see him look at you momentarily, a silent question. When you don’t refuse, however, he seems satisfied, and takes it as a signal to proceed.

“I’ll just have to prove it.”

What was happening? Hold on, was he really going to—

His touch is cold, but comforting. Thumb brushing against your jaw, to your lips. So softly, and so lovingly it leaves you in a mess, face burning. You can feel the ghost of his touch on your skin, the spot he’d held with such care still smoldering in its wake. He cradles your face in his hands like it was you that were precious porcelain, but he doesn’t close the distance like you’ve envisioned.

Instead, you find that there’s hesitance in him, a line he desperately tries not to cross, not from repulsion, but fear. Fear that this was all a dream, that it would be taken away from him in a heartbeat. Fear that you would be taken away, whisked into an unfortunate end like so many others he held dear. Fear for what it meant if he embraced the tempest of feelings he’s long harbored for you.

Fear for what it meant if he held you.

It’s this very fear that’s brought upon the teardrops falling down his face. And oh, how beautiful he looked despite his sorrow. How glad you feel, the sole witness to his spirit, the unwavering bundle of mysteries that makes up who he is.

You hadn’t forgiven him for his words back at the Sanctuary that day, but that would be brought up later, and hopefully by the end of this, banished from your mind, a simple misunderstanding.

For now, with equal tenderness as you would handle a treasure, you wipe away the tears that encompass the flawless canvas that is the Wanderer, and the world seems to stop at the way you both stare at each other, wordless. Words were unnecessary, for the eyes have always been the window to the soul.

His gaze overflows with unspoken words and apologies and the hidden nature of his true intentions. You've no doubt yours holds the same weight.

Stay, his eyes seem to scream. Stay with me.

For once there’s no playful banter, bickering, or any other devices that mask the true nature of your feelings. You can hear the faraway call of the boat’s captain for any passengers heading to Fontaine to come and hurry! but you’ve long made up your mind. 

bonus: clear skies after the storm.

“Did you see Hat Guy pull [Name] away like that? Oh, he’s definitely up to no good! Traveler, do you think we need to check on them? He seemed like he wanted something out of them, though… You know how scary he can be if he wants to.”

The chatter of Paimon’s voice flies over his head, with Aether simply dismissing her thoughts.

You didn’t come on the boat after all. But still, he’s not paying heed to Paimon’s words, because it really didn’t seem that way.

In fact, by the way he held your hand, the utter relief he’d seen in the Wanderer’s face when he'd found you, the slight protectiveness he'd displayed over you, and the way your eyes had lit up at the sight of the former Harbinger, Aether could even say that you two were…

Suddenly, it clicks.

“Ah... So it was a lover’s spat.”

“Huh? A lover's spat? What are you talking about now!?”

@ MHIIEEE 2023 : do not copy, repost, or plagiarize my work.

office s3x with heizou

cws: gn!reader, semi-public sex, unprotected, bondage (belt), riding, teasing, hair pulling, begging, edging, cockwarming

how did you get in this position again? yeah, that's right. you were visiting heizou at his office, knowing that he probably procrastinated some paper work and had to get them done until tomorrow to avoid pissing off kujou sara. it was getting late though so you decided to help him out then get him home.

however things did not go as you planned.

it started when heizou offered you his lap to keep him company until he finished the work. you were supposed to help him but the paper work was unbelievably boring. a devious idea in your head started all of this.

you wiggled your hips on heizou's lap as if you were readjusting yourself, deliberately grinding your ass to his groin but he already knows what you're doing. instead of pointing out immediately, he let you have your fun first, letting you think that you were succesful at your tease.

until he pulled you backwards by your hair, letting his warm breath graze your ear as he whispered

"you think you're so smart, don't you?"

and that's how you ended up in heizou's lap, his cock ramming into your hole as he grips your waist, aiding you as he thrusts up whenever you descend on his cock, your ass smacking his thighs.

heizou is without a doubt a tease but that doesn't mean he'll let you mess with him all the time, that's his job after all!

even though it's night and majority of the people have left, there are still multiple guards outside and the thought of them hearing you cry out heizou's name over and over both arouses and worries you at the same time.

heizou doesn't seem to care at all, a smirk on his face as he watches you struggle on his cock. your thighs shaky from mercilessly impaling yourself on his dick, despite the exhaustion in your legs you keep on riding him.

heizou stops all movement in his body, his hands only holding you, not helping you bounce on his cock anymore. he watches you with a shit eating grin on his face, clearly amused by your struggle.

you look down at your boyfriend and frown, his smirk widening at your annoyance. to be even more of a little shit, heizou removes his hands from your hips and crosses his arms.

"he-heizou...help me out a little."

you murmur, trying to catch your breath and continue riding him but your incoming orgasm is fading away, only irritating you more. the worst part is that your hands are tied behind your back with heizou's belt, you're not even able to use your hands for leverage.

"i don't know about that baby, you seemed so eager. what happened to all that energy now?"

the fact that his voice is too even for someone balls deep inside of you and he's mocking you frusturates you. he knows what he's doing and you know what he wants you to do.

you also know that he won't budge if you don't beg.

swallowing all of your pride and irritation, you wiggle your hips a little, circling them and give heizou the puppy dog eyes with a burning face.

"p-please heizou...make me cum. i won't tease again just please make me cum."

heizou only gives you a look that lets you know that you convinced him, after all he wants to cum too, wants to paint your insides and fill you up.

finally heizou grabs your waist with both hands, his nails forming crescent marks on your skin as he lifts you up then drops your whole weight on his cock.

he repeats the motion so quickly repeadetly, not even putting that much effort which turns you on even more. you helplessly moan as he pounds into you, the urge to wrap your arms around his neck is prevented by the restraints around your wrist.

heizou leans in as deliberately groans right into your ear, feeling your walls tighten around him. oh how much he loves how irresistable you are when you're at his mercy, it makes him want to ruin you.

and that's exactly what you want.

your orgasm hits you hard as you cum all over his lap, making a mess on his clothes. your spasming hole and loud whines of his name triggers heizou's own orgasm, he buries himself as deep as he can when he cums, shooting white ropes of his cum.

the warmth inside you makes you whimper, finally getting the relief you so desperately wanted as his cum drips down your hole. heizou carefully undoes your restraints, letting you wrap your arms around his neck and rest a little.

heizou chukles softly, returning your embrace as he buries his face in your neck, your scent flooding his nostrils. however this intimate moment is ruined by a thought that seems to occur in both of your heads as heizou pulls away to look you.

the thought being that you'll have to clean up this mess.

𝐖𝐇𝐄𝐍 𝐇𝐄'𝐒 𝐓𝐈𝐏𝐒𝐘. ume, sakura, suo, kaji, togame.

𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐓 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒: mentions of alcohol, drinking it, Ume’s cuteness and extreme softness, mega warning for Ume’s I kinda got ahead of myself again (it’s longer than the others ;;), AFAB!reader, NSFW FOR TOGAME AND HIS FILTHY MOUTH, small argument in Kaji's (but he makes up for it, I swear.)

𝐔𝐦𝐞.

- responsible, of course. He doesn’t drink and would most likely be the one cleaning up after everyone when they’re wasted, handing out cold bottles of electrolytes and glasses of water. Possibly the one passing around properly proportioned drinks so he could keep an eye on everyone, handing out snacks too. The absolute best Mama Hen (Papa Rooster?) you could ask for in a house party. But if you’re the only ones awake? He sneaks in a drink or two with you. An emotional drunk. Prepare to sniffle with him as he practically thanks you for being around, for being the absolute best, for being his best friend, for making him fall in love with yo—

“You’re the best, y’know that?” He sips his drink, nursing a bottle of electrolytes in his other hand. He says it so suddenly, so abruptly, you think you misheard it. You scoot closer to your best friend, arms pressed against each other as you both lean against the wall, facing your knocked out friends. With your cheek pressed onto his shoulder, you shake your head. “Should be telling you that, Ume. The party was a success because of you. Hiragi’s parent’s antiques live to see another day.” With that, he nudges you gently with a chuckle. “C’mon let me shower you with praise, alright? Listen.” Sounding a bit serious now, he has your full attention.

He threads his fingers through yours and he squeezes once. You squeeze back. Seeing his reddened knuckles from recent scuffles, you raise your intertwined fingers to your lips to press kisses onto each knuckle as he speaks. A dusting of pink ever present on his cheeks. You swear you could hear his heart beating at the same rhythm as yours is.

“I…” He pauses, tearing his eyes away from you for a moment before he looks into yours once more. Determined. Eyebrows slightly furrowed. “I think I love you—“, another pause, he shakes his head. You squeeze his hand in return to steady him and he gives you a smile you’ve never seen him give you before. Your heart’s beating double time now. “I—I know I love you. I do. More than just a friend, a companion. I know you might not feel the same way, maybe you see me as family and that’s fine but I just—“ “I love you too, idiot.” You interrupt his overthinking before continuing, “Always have. More than a friend, actually.”

If your friends weren’t a few feet from you both he’d scoop you up and twirl you around. Hell, if he had a tail he’d be wagging it nonstop by now. Your hands, now sweaty, are still intertwined. He’s practically beaming with sunlight, ready to burst. While you’re basking in it. Your sun. Your sun.

You both kissed each other that night with the taste of cheap whiskey and electrolytes on your lips.

𝐒𝐚𝐤𝐮𝐫𝐚.

- Asian glow, meet Sakura. Sakura puts the Asian glow to shame, my guy. He’s got a tomato for a head when he drinks. You’re not even touching or kissing him, he’s just… RED. Doesn’t like getting plastered but when he does get a couple of drinks in? He’s screaming for you every second, looking for you, needing you around him. (Nirei’s sprinting to look for you, Suo’s making Sakura drink enough water, Ume’s preparing a cold bottle of pocari sweat for him.) What normally would make Sakura run away screaming would now make him actually, fully accept it. You can feel him melt into you, pressing his cheek to yours. He’s a very clingy drunk. The others don’t point it out as much. They don’t want to poke the (extremely, extremely clingy) bear.

“Where is she???” He literally screams into the crowd, getting on his tippy toes and hopping over heads just to get a glance of you hopefully walking towards him. Nirei’s already lost in the group of people, weaving through them to get to you. Thankfully, you’re just at the kitchen whipping up a couple more drinks when Nirei finally found you. “He’s at it again, huh?” You say as you take a swig from your drink, looking at a messy haired Nirei. He looks like he went through hell and back. “Y-yeah. I think you should go. He’s been groaning for you nonstop-“ Nirei then guides you through the crowd, hand on your wrist so you wouldn’t get lost.

He pulls you towards Sakura whose now lounging on the couch. You both were hoping for a relieved Sakura but instead are met with your bicolor haired lover staring daggers into Nirei and his steady grip on your wrist. Nirei immediately lets go and as he does, Sakura pulls you into his lap causing your drink to spill a little, dribbling down your cheek and your neck. “What the hell Saku—“ you’re interrupted by him licking a strip up your neck, lapping at the spilled drink. His hands grow more possessive as they hold you closer to him, kneading your flesh through your clothes.

“Missed ya,” he mutters into your neck, nuzzling his nose into it like a kitten would. “Where’d ya run off to? Been looking everywhere for you, baby.” he’s a completely different person when he’s tipsy, clingy and touchy, not really caring if your friends see him practically claiming his spot as YOUR lover. “Went to make some drinks. Don’t tell me you need me with you all the time.” You tease him. While he’d normally blush and stammer at that, he’s now pressing kisses into your cheek, smiling into each one.

“Mhm. Need ya all the damn time, angel. Don’t leave.”

𝐌𝐎𝐑𝐄 𝐁𝐎𝐘𝐅𝐈𝐄𝐒 𝐔𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐂𝐔𝐓.

𝐒𝐮𝐨.

- doesn’t drink (he doesn’t eat either so—) He really just doesn’t like drinking alcohol. He gets the appeal, sure. He could go for a couple of glasses, sure. He could maybe finish 2 bottles of whiskey by himself and not feel a thing, SURE. But he doesn’t like drinking it. He’s more of like a casual enjoyer, maybe having a finger or two of whiskey on the rocks with friends. Always the one cleaning up after them (Nirei) too. But when it’s just the both of you though, it’s a different story. Sure you can’t tell if he’s plastered or not from the get go but there’s a tell. He’s more… open with his emotions.

“You look gorgeous in that dress, my dove,” you turn slowly to your lover who’s eyeing you down from beside you. You’re both at one of the booths of the speakeasy you frequent, away from curious eyes. By the way he’s looking at you, you feel like he’s undressing you with his eyes almost. His Adam’s apple bobs as he swallows dryly. Is he blushing? You can’t tell under the dim lighting, “Absolutely—gorgeous,” he ghosts his fingers along your curves, his gaze following the invisible path he’s drawn out. Making sure to go extra, extra slow around your derrière before he pulls his hand away to take a swig of his drink.

“What’s gotten into you tonight? Drunk already?” You say while you reach over to straighten his suit out, trying your damndest not to let your growing arousal show. You swear you can feel the booth heating up. “Drunk off the alcohol? Oh, dearest no. Off of you, however? Well…” He’s staring at you from over his rocks glass. The ice clinks as he puts it down on the table.

“How could I not? I could drink you in all fucking night.” There’s that tell. There’s the swearing. You pause, meeting his heavily lidded gaze. You swallow. “Care to give me a taste, dove?”

You feel his fingers creep up your leg and you part them so willingly. Nobody’ll peek into your booth. Not with your lover around.

𝐊𝐚𝐣𝐢.

- Lightweight to Average drinker. He’s a sleepy drunk but he doesn’t want anyone seeing him in such a vulnerable state so he often opts to bail or not drink at all. Most of the time he bails though. Not about that social drinking life. Only you could manage to convince him to come with though. You’re always met with the tiniest amount of resistance but you can manage, right? (He’s got a soft spot for you. Of course he’d go. You don’t have to ask twice. He just likes seeing you pout when he says no the first time. It’s cute.) Still, don’t get him drunk please don’t—oh no he’s got a bottle in his hand. He’s guzzling it. Oh no. Ohhh no.

You’re in Hiragi’s bed, hidden under the covers with your lover’s arms wrapped around your waist and his face resting on your shoulder now fast asleep. How’d you both find yourselves here? Well, first, Kaji ended up breaking a couple of glasses (he swears it was an accident), then almost started a couple of fights (you know how he is with his mouth), then tried napping on the couch with you while everybody’s drinking (he was complaining about the noise but… it’s a party, Kaji.) Hiragi, thankfully, allowed you both to hole up in his room for a little while to sober up. Locked inside with a couple of bottles of pocari sweat (care of Umemiya!), you’re intertwined now.

You sigh, flicking your boyfriend’s forehead gently, “idiot,” he winces, tightening his grip around your waist to pull you closer. Thank god he’s mellower now. “Ow—shit! What’d you do that for?” He rubs his forehead on your cheek, HIS cheeks slightly blushing from the alcohol. “You shouldn’t have drunk too much-“ “Well you brought me here what was I supposed to d-“ “Oh I don’t know, not drink an entire bottle in one sit—“ You feel his lips against yours, the tiny argument now forgotten. You can taste the alcohol and some sweetness from his lollipop from earlier. Then you hear something you never thought you’d hear fall from his mouth willingly.

“…sorry.” Huh. You angle away to take a proper look at him. He only grumbles and hides deeper into your neck, using the covers as a shield against from you. He’s acting so needy and soft. If he wasn’t so tipsy you would have pounced on him to pepper kisses along his cheeks. You attempt to pull the blanket down but he’s holding it so tightly. “Say that again, baby? You’re what?” You can’t hide the smile from your lips but then he pinches your side causing you to yelp. “Y’heard me the first time.” Rolling your eyes, you nuzzle into his touch. “C’mon just a tiny one? The tiniest little sowwy? Fow me?” You whisper and you’re only met with three kisses on your forehead.

“I love you. Sorry.” You smile, bringing up Hiragi’s comfortable blanket over your sleepy bodies.

“Love you too, idiot.”

𝐓𝐨𝐠𝐚𝐦𝐞.

Is an absolute lightweight so he ends up being a sleepy drunk or doesn’t drink at all. But with you around and he’s had maybe a drink and a half in his system? He’s absolutely feral. So touchy, SO so SOOOOO horny when he’s got even the slightest amount of alcohol in his system to get him tipsy. He’s touching you, caressing your face, your arms, your ass (if you’d allow him to. The man understands boundaries.) While he’s normally so soft spoken around you, teasing you in his own silly, dorky way, he’s a different man when he's tipsy. His vocabulary is a different beast. Sloppy and direct. His 6’2” frame and entire weight practically leaning onto you for support on Hiragi’s family couch — to some he looks as though he’s dozing off. It’s anything BUT that. He’s whispering the dirtiest, raunchiest things into your ear, teasing you with that deep voice of his. He knows what he’s doing. You like it, of course.

“I’m so fucking hard right now, doll—god it’s throbbing.” He whines softly into your neck, breathing so heavily you swear his body’s quivering. That voice does things to you and he KNOWS it. “Wanna fuck yet throat. Have my cum spillin’ down yer mouth, yer chest….fuck—y’put a spell on me, didn’t ya? Makin’ me wanna fuck all the damn time.” He ends it with a chuckle, peppering slow, loving kisses along your neck, clearly doesn’t care if anybody sees you both now. “Y’know, when yer not around, I fuck my fist to the thought of ya, of yer ass bouncing on me, of yer pussy dripping into my fingers. God I wanna fuck ya so badly right now—“ You can’t help it. You cross your legs to have some relief and you shift your weight slightly, feeling your throbbing clit pressed in between.

“Crossing your legs like that—yer getting off of this aren’t you? Wanna fuck me too huh?” He whispers, drawing it out slowly with a slight purr.

You nod and you can feel him perk up a little. He eases up as he stands slowly, pulling you up with him. He’s leading you down the hallway, away from the prying eyes of your peers. They’re all too busy to care where the both of you are headed.

“There’s a vacant room ‘round back. Hiragi wouldn’t mind, wouldn’t he?”

a/n: huuurrrr pulled this out of my bum I hope you like it omg I literally wrote Togame's half asleep asjdk also feeling very bad for Hiragi and his house. kaji part dedicated to @kajibunny and our late morning rambles btw ohoho i mahal na mahal u come get your man!!!!

not a weapon but a person—capable of loving and being loved.

SYNOPSIS: You get kidnapped and Damian snaps. TAGS: Graphic Depictions Of Violence! Genderneutral! Blood, Hurt/Comfort, Religious Imagery & Symbolism, Kidnapping, Childhood Trauma, My Mother is the Worst Woman Alive and I'm her Favorite Son, Damian is Eighteen.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽ ♱

A heavy thud. Ragged breaths. Then the sound of footsteps.

The same hands that had ruthlessly beat your kidnappers to a pulp—the ones that had pulverized flesh with blood splattered across his knuckles, the ones that had heard the crack of bones beneath his grip, the ones that bore the scars of countless cuts and stabs—now traced your cheek with a featherlight touch.

"Beloved."

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽ ♱

YOUR PALMS WERE PRESSED tightly against your eyes, wrists raw and burning from the rope that had bound them just minutes ago. Sobs slipped from your lips, eyes bloodshot, and mouth parched dry.

The rotting smell of the warehouse was an assault on your senses—an acrid mix of trash, harsh chemicals, and the faint tang of gunfire that lingered in the air.

There was a hushing in your ear as you leaned against a cloaked figure—Batman. Bruce. 

His hand rubbed at your back, firm and steady, a grounding presence amid the chaos. His cape, dark and imposing, wrapped around you like a shield, blocking out the violence unfolding just in front of you.

Shadows danced erratically on the walls as Robin moved with lethal precision. Bodies fell unconscious, thudding heavily against the concrete floor. Blood splattered. Screams echoed. Each punch landed with a sickening crunch, bones breaking. Crates and debris were scattered haphazardly, wood and concrete slamming onto the floor. 

Damian couldn't see anything but red.

His vision was tunneled, focused solely on the next target, the next blow, the next scream. 

A swift roundhouse kick sent one assailant crashing into a stack of crates, the wood splintering under the impact. One punch connected with a jaw, the sickening crunch of bone breaking echoing through the air. Blood sprayed on his fist. Another one rushed toward him, brandishing a knife, but he disarmed the man with a swift twist of the wrist, jamming the blade into the attacker's palm. The man screamed, clutching his arm as red streaked his skin.

Damian's eyes flickered with a dark satisfaction as he watched the thug stumble backward, clutching at the wound.

One last man remained. One who had lunged at him from behind, grappling onto his back. Damian scowled and surged backward, driving both himself and his attacker into the wall with bone-crushing force. The man's grip loosened, a pained gasp escaping his lips as the air was knocked out of him.

"Fool," Damian spat, his voice dripping with venom. "Do you have any idea who you're dealing with?"

The thug whimpered, trying to scramble away, but Damian was relentless. He twisted sharply, dislodging the assailant and slamming an elbow into his ribs. The man crumpled against the wall, clutching his side, his eyes wide with fear and pain.

"You think you can touch those I care for and get away with it?" Damian growled. He didn't give the thug a moment to recover. He swung a powerful fist into the guy's face, the impact sending a spray of blood and teeth into the air. 

"F-Fuck you, man!" The man yanked a gun from his waistband, but before he could even line up a shot, Damian’s foot kicked out, sending the weapon flying through the air. The gun clattered against the concrete with a deafening clang. With a snarl, Damian lunged forward, grabbing the thug by the collar and slamming him into the ground.

"H-Hey! Mercy! Mercy! I'm a-already down!" the assailant wailed, his hands clawing at Robin's uniform in a desperate plea. "The Bat don’t kill! You—you ain't gonna kill me!"

Damian's expression hardened, his eyes narrowing as his voice dropped to a low, menacing growl.

"I'm not Batman," he spat, the tone amplified and darkened by the modulator. "Every breath you take is a mercy I choose to grant. By the time I'm finished, you'll be begging for death."

He raised his fist, the tension in his muscles coiling like a spring ready to snap. The thug’s eyes widened in terror, his pleas growing frantic as he braced for the blow. However, just as Damian’s fist was about to land, a hand clamped down on his shoulder, grabbing onto his hand with a vice-like grip. Before he could react, Batman—Bruce—had tackled him, pinning him firmly against his chest. 

“Robin,” Batman’s voice was firm, concern barely concealed. “That’s enough.”

Damian's struggle was fierce, his body thrashing under his father’s strength as he roared in fury.

“Let me go!” he screamed, his voice raw with anger. “I’m going to kill him for what he did to them!”

The anger engulfed Damian like a stormy ocean, dragging him beneath its violent waves. Visions of his mother’s face, his grandfather’s form, and accusing shadows surged from the depths, all condemning him. Damian’s cries erupted into a raw, guttural scream, gradually dissolving into ragged gasps as he battled the relentless tide.

Though Bruce had shaped him into a hero, a beacon of justice, and his family had offered him a fragile semblance of belonging, Damian was still his mother’s son.

The violence and anger roiling within him were like roots twisted deep within his soul. There was not a thing that could purge the primal rage and pain that had taken root before his first breath.

When he finally broke through the surface, baptized in blood and weighed down by sins that clung to him like chains, he sought you out with an urgent, almost desperate need.

A heavy thud. Ragged breaths. Then the sound of footsteps.

The same hands that had ruthlessly beat your kidnappers to a pulp—the ones that had pulverized flesh with blood splattered across his knuckles, the ones that had heard the crack of bones beneath his grip, the ones that bore the scars of countless cuts and stabs—now traced your cheek with a featherlight touch.

"Beloved."

Your hands were carefully peeled away from your eyes, and you met soft emerald eyes through a veil of tears. His hands moved to unlatch his cape, the soft fabric pooling around your form. His lips, speaking in his mother tongue, murmured a soothing litany of comfort, Arabic endearments flowing like silk. He pressed your head against his chest and you found refuge in the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. 

Bruce watched the scene with a pensive look. His son's body had dwarfed you, broad shoulders and strong muscles enveloping your form like a shield. His head was tucked into your hair, his hands raking all over your tense and sweaty skin.

Damian had momentarily shed the hardened exterior he so often wore—a soldier with a heart that, despite its armor, occasionally revealed cracks. This was a side of him that often surprised people.

Because Damian Wayne was the farthest thing from soft.

He was all sharp edges. Poisonous, scalding words that could sear through the thickest armor of patience. Rough, nearly violent in his touch, like a blade pressed against skin. There was no gentleness in his movements, no softness in his gestures, only the relentless precision of a trained killer.

From the earliest moments he could walk, his life was an unending series of tests, each more grueling than the last. Each cut and bruise was a lesson. Failure was met with harsh punishment, success with silent approval. Affection and praise were as rare as mercy. 

The League’s doctrine was ingrained in him: emotions were vulnerabilities, attachments were liabilities, and loyalty was owed only to the mission and the League. His purpose in the League of Assassins was clear—to be the perfect instrument of their will, a living embodiment of their principles. 

Emotion was his enemy, a weakness to be purged.  He was taught to suppress his feelings, to turn them off like a switch. Pain was an illusion, fear a phantom to be banished. He learned to compartmentalize his thoughts, locking away his humanity in the deepest recesses of his mind. 

By the time he reached ten, he was a finely honed instrument of death.

A living weapon in a world that knew no peace.

It had taken Bruce eight grueling years to begin undoing the damage. And even then, he had barely scratched the surface.

Then there was you.

The trembling, warm-faced student Damian had introduced during his senior year—his partner for a science project, he said. 

At first, the interactions were subtle—a fleeting glance here, a hesitant smile there. But as time went on, it became impossible to ignore the way your presence began to soften the sharp edges of Damian's demeanor.

Bruce had seen you both fall for each other over the months. And he saw hope. 

You were the opposite of every lesson Damian has ever been taught.

To him, you were soft, in every sense. Soft movements, soft features, soft voice. Everything about you exuded comfort.

You made something he had always pushed down and shut away come to the surface.

You made him feel things—things he should not.

When you touched him with your soft hands, everything in him burned. The gentle brush of your fingers against his skin ignited a searing heat, a raw and unfamiliar longing that clawed violently at the walls he had worked so hard to maintain. Each touch chipped away at the concrete barriers of his training, breaking them down and leaving him exposed, aching for something he couldn’t quite name.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽ ♱

Mania. Drake had called it, a wild obsession of his that could consume and devour.

Damian's arms encircled you like a lifeline, holding you close as though he feared you might slip away. His lips brushed against your temple, warm and tender, while his biceps pressed firmly under your chest, anchoring you in his embrace. The air was thick with the mingled scents of sweat, blood, and the lingering residue of fear. 

And yet, amidst these odors, there was an underlying, almost imperceptible hint of Damian’s cologne—Arabian oudh. It was rich and smoky, with notes of aged wood, a faint earthy sweetness, and subtle undertones of leather and spice.

You buried your face into the crook of his neck, the fabric of his suit brushing against your cheek.

A Crush. Todd had chalked it up to puppy love, something that would eventually fade with time.

He lifted you effortlessly from the floor, his strength evident in his smooth, controlled movements. The way he adjusted his hold with such care to ensure your comfort spoke louder than any words could.

Warmth enveloped you—Damian had always run hotter, like a human furnace. On sweltering days, his clinginess (no matter how much he denied it) had been a nuisance, his heat making you feel as if your skin might melt off. But now, that same warmth was a comforting embrace, a welcome shield.

Infatuation. Grayson had suggested, thinking it was just a fleeting, intense passion. But there was something deeper in the way he looked at you, something that felt permanent and unshakeable.

“I am here. I am here, beloved," he spoke to you lowly. "It's alright now."

Love. His father called it.

In an instant, everything seemed to collapse around you. Tears welled up and streamed down your cheeks as you sobbed into his chest, each shudder of your body sending waves of anguish through him. Damian’s heart twisted painfully at the sight of you. 

He has seen suffering—he has inflicted suffering. But this was different. Your pain was a torment he was helpless to alleviate. 

Face twisted in guilt, he pulled you tighter against him, as though he could hold the world’s pain at bay if he just held you close enough.

A hand tapped at his shoulder, and he flinched, turning to see his father.

“The Batmobile is just by the docks. We can—”

“They're in shock,” Damian scowled. the fire back in his eyes. “Do you honestly believe they're in any state to be moved at this moment?”

Bruce’s gaze was firm. “Damian, we don’t have time to—”

“They need to be stabilized first,” Damian cut in sharply, his tone brooking no argument. He turned abruptly, striding towards the exit. “If you want them to survive this, we need to take care of them properly, not rush them into a car. I shall be outside.”

Without waiting for a response, Damian moved swiftly, the clatter of his boots echoing as he stepped into the cool night air with you. Once the warehouse door closed behind him, he turned his full attention back to you, his hand gently brushing your tear-streaked face. 

He moved to press his forehead gently against yours, the warmth of his skin meeting yours in a tender connection. He could offer no verbal comfort anymore; words seemed woefully inadequate. Your cries gradually subsided as you drew comfort from his presence.

Love.

He lifted his hand to the side of his face, pressing a button. As his mask retracted, his eyes met yours. Damian knew that more than anything else, you loved his eyes.

Time and again, you found yourself drawn to them, unable to tear your gaze away. They were hypnotic—an exquisite blend of emerald green, green as vibrant as the leather cover of his sketchbook, flecked with gold and streaked with brown paint.

His eyes were windows to his soul, offering the only genuine glimpse into the depths of his emotions. In them, you could see his anger burning like a stormy sea, joy dancing like sunlight on rippling water, embarrassment flitting like a shadow, and pain etched as deep as his scars.

At times, his eyes grew gentle, revealing something much softer—something that made your heart swell and your knees feel weak. A love so pure and unexpected that it could melt the coldest of hearts.

Damian Wayne was the farthest thing from soft.

But in these soft, fragile moments he shared with you, where his heart beat in sync with yours, Damian found an unexpected calm. It was in these rare interludes, away from the brutality and darkness that defined his world, that he could truly be himself.

Here, he was not a weapon but a person—capable of loving and being loved.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽ ♱

ao3: yenwayne

NOTE: I want to delve into the line I wrote: 'Damian is still his mother’s son.'

It's just to show his trauma, I despise Talia with all my guts.

Talia's control over Damian is a textbook example of manipulative conditioning at its most extreme. In psychological development, early experiences and parental influence are crucial in shaping one's self-concept. From his earliest days, Damian was deprived of a normal childhood. His personality, thoughts, and desires have all been sculpted by the League of Assassins from day one.

His anger, protectiveness, and sense of duty are manifestations of this—a child raised to be a killer, now struggling with the fragments of a humanity that was never fully allowed to blossom.

I'm not saying he hasn't changed!!! He has turned into so much more than the weapon they intended him to be. He is genuinely good. But the impact of such deep-seated trauma cannot be easily overlooked or resolved. It’s not something that can simply be swept under the rug or fixed overnight.

So, this was my attempt at capturing his character! I’m very open to constructive criticism since I’m new to the fandom. Please be kind and gentle with your feedback :)

I entrust you my fate oh lucky golden potato 🙏

Hello! I hope you are having a wonderful day :-)) If you are taking requests, may I request for umemiya hajime being your bf headacanons? Thank you so much <3

Hello! Thank you so much, i hope you had a wonderful day as well<3 and yes, I am taking reqs. Enjoy and i hope that you will like them heheheeh

Umemiya Hajime as your boyfriends | Headcanons

tw: none, reader insert, english is not my native language ♡

in the beginning of your relationship, he was worried that you wouldn't want to be with him because well... he is the leader of bofurin;

he rarely talks about his past but when he does, he knows that you will listen;

ume knows every single detail about you: from which tooth ached when you were a child, to when you have your period and what pads you use;

he likes playing games that involve summoning spirits around you (he tells other guys that he is hugging you because he loves you, but in fact, he is scared);

ume takes videos of how his vegetables are growing and sends them to you all the time. "Y/N, what do you think, aren't they lovely?!";

having a BBQ party together is a total idyll for him.

you are not in a mood? no problem, he's a sun that gives you energy all the time. you are sick? he sprints to the pharmacy. you had a bad day? he is here for a talk.

his love language is sharing: sharing how your day was, talking about funny childhood memories, sharing food, sharing money for drinks, etc;

the nights he comes back drunk he is extra clingy;

when it comes to eating, he insists on eating what he wants. this is one of the downsides of him being your boyfriend;

when he is around other guys and they are talking about you, umemiya is always like: "ah, yes that beautiful girl is my girlfriend. she is also miss universe. the pageant may not know about it, but thats the truth." loves appreciating your beauty all the time;

he says the funniest, strangest pick-up lines early in the morning to cheer you up as quickly as possible: you and the boys had gathered and were waiting for ume to appear. when you saw his figure approaching you, each of you greeted him. "good morning." you said to him with sleepy eyes, suggesting you didn't get enough sleep. "good morning to everyone but to Y/N," the white-haired man shot out, causing each of you to get confused, "because Y/N, you are already the sunshine that brightens my days!"

when it comes to kisses, he always goes to your forehead first, then your nose and finally your lips. his kisses are slow, yet full with passion. this guy likes to enjoy you 100%;

every time he kisses you, his hands are on your waist. he prefers to draw you closer to him in this way.

Words cannot explain how perfect this man is

I love you, my darling. Why can’t you see it?

pairing. mitsuya x gender neutral! reader

cw. none, fluff, sweet, hurt/comfort, reader kinda goes through a panic attack. lil suggestive at end, so 16+ are free to interact!

summary. you never feel enough for him. (mitsuya disagrees because he thinks the both of you are like puzzle pieces that have been missing for too long, have stayed too far from each other for too long. he likes how you fit in to his life, snug as a glove).

wc. 1.7k

notes. something i wrote for @kodzucafe’s “a safe space” collab! i had fun writing, solace beloved! and i really did put myself in reader’s shoes and wrote down what i wanted to hear while i was going through a breakdown, which is funny to me bc i originally planned for at least 500 words of fluff, yet here we are. i could not shut up for the life of me and it just kept going on and on. but to anyone who’s been feeling down and undeserving lately, you don’t know how precious you are, do you? me and mitsuya are coming for your hearts with this one. hope you enjoy!

tagging. @festive - this precious bby beta read this mess! @rindove - i hope you enjoy avon bc i wrote this w/ one of our unfortunate flaws in mind and i think you’d get it bestie <3

It’s a little dark out.

The sun peeks just beyond the horizon, lighting up the sky in dark orange hues that make the clouds stand out in their ripples and waves.

The last strands of light hit Mitsuya perfectly, painting him in this fuzzy orange-red tint that makes him glow, highlighting his finer features like his cheekbones, the slim slope of his nose, the almost sleepy tilt of his droopy eyes, and the soft, whispy lines of his eyelashes that kiss the gentle curve of his cheeks.

You have to rub your eyes to make sure the halo around his head isn’t real.

Mitsuya’s sketching something in his designer notebook, crumpled pages of discarded designs litter his desk, the cup of tea you made a few hours ago long forgotten and cold. “Don’t move too much, can’t draw you that way.” Mitsuya mumbles, looking up from time to time as his pencil darts all over the page.

You pause in the position you’re lounging in, stopping yourself from crossing your legs. A book rests face-down on your lap, and you settle for leaving your legs outstretched.

Everything in this moment is beautiful and domestic, Mitsuya’s studio paints a pretty picture as the both of you bask in the remaining hour of sunlight, as the both of you revel in each other’s presence.

Well, at least on Mitsuya’s part, he looks peaceful, but you on the other hand are anything but relaxed or content.

(Because insecurities linger in your head like a pesky tumor.)

Mitsuya’s so pretty, you think. From his kind eyes to his silver-black hair and his caring, nurturing habits. It almost makes you think that you don’t deserve him. Surely someone more attractive, interesting and stable can keep him happy and in love.

Something that you don’t have—you’re always lacking in some way, never complete.

And it’s so apparent at this moment. When he’s working, for something he dearly loves, and you’re over here sulking and thinking and procrastinating, deadlines and work sneaking up on you.

(God, why can’t you ever finish things. Why do they always pile up and multiply, leaving you as the pathetic failure that you are.)

Your mind runs and turns, doing backflips and gymnastics. It leaves you hanging when you need it most for simple, simple instructions, and it always pauses, stuck in an infinite loop that never ends and never moves on. It’s like your brain doesn’t comprehend skipping over the bump in the road to continue on to more important matters and it’s just so fucking—

“Breathe for me, baby.”

Ugly heaving sounds are filling the room, and it takes you a second to realize that it’s coming from you.

It takes you a second more to realize that you can’t breathe.

Mitsuya is by your side rubbing tiny circles into the hunch of your back, trying to straighten it out, trying to stop it from compressing into itself, trying to get you to breathe. Calm down. It’s not that serious. Just breathe. Can you not even do something as simple as that?

When your breathing doesn’t slow down and evolves into gasping sobs, fat droplets of salty tears sliding down your swelling cheeks, he hugs you, tears soaking unfortunately into the shoulder of his sweater. It’s silent as Mitsuya strokes your back, the calm, rhythmic thump thump thumps of his heart guiding yours into matching his.

You take deep breaths to try and calm yourself down, for the most part it worked—however little hiccups still remained. “Do you feel better now?” A stroke of your back and a hum. “You wanna tell me why you’re crying, love?” Mitsuya pulls back with a small smile, wiping your tears away with his thumb.

You take a moment to organize your thoughts.

The feeling of incompetence, the slow build up of your work, the procrastination you set yourself up to all the time, the insecurities of not being good enough for Mitsuya, who never rushes you and waits, still good to you, always good to you, even now.

But the feeling of not being enough is what rushes the floodgates of your tears again.

“I feel useless and like I don’t deserve you.” That’s what ends up leaving your lips in a small whisper, bouts of hiccups echoing in the small space between you, but he still feels so far away.

Mitsuya’s smile starts to fade.

“I’m forgetful, and so stupid sometimes, and you have to repeat yourself for me all the time, and I never do anything right—I never do you right.” You’re huffing by the time you’re done, breathing that all out in one go.

“Is that it?” You take a second to think over everything that’s been plaguing your mind for the past few hours you’ve been cooped up in here with him, you nod your head. “Good, now it’s my turn.”

Mitsuya’s grip on you tightens just a little, never enough to hurt you—never, he wouldn’t dare dream of it either—but just enough to let you know that he’s serious, and that he won’t allow you to brush anything off because he means all of it.

“You’re not stupid, baby. You just need a bit more time to process things, and that’s okay. Because I’d gladly give you all of my time, so take your time when you talk. I wanna hear everything your pretty head has to say.” He kisses your forehead, then a peck on the lips to seal the deal.

“I don’t mind that you’re forgetful. Doesn’t matter if I sound like a broken record sometimes because I’d rather you be peaceful and eased, even if some things slip through the cracks of your beautiful mind.” He murmurs above your head, chin resting on the lovely bundle of nerves and cells, your hair soft to the touch on his jaw.

“And don’t say you feel incompetent or enough for me because you’re all I’ve imagined wanting and more, perfect and mine, and don’t you even think that you’re not pretty.” Mitsuya pulls back again, walking over to his desk to grab his sketchbook.

He takes a moment looking over the sketch with fond eyes that swivel around, before pausing and walking back to you.

“Can someone not beautiful and stunning—can someone that’s not you, you—get me to make a design like this?” Mitsuya turns the book around, and his eyes shine when he says, “This is all you. I made this with you in mind.”

Rough strokes of a body donning a sleek, baggy coat, beige pants, and a shiny pair of black shoes lie on the page. Sewed roses and little decorative pins stick out of the coat, a pink bow tied at the collar, a pretty beret resting comfortably at the head, and dangly silver earrings with rose quartz stones that sit prettily next to a pair of jaws similar to your own.

In fact, everything in the outfit are colors that Mitsuya’s told you would look good on you, would make your appearance pop, if you wore them. Expensive and cozy and stylish, this outfit is divine. It’s right up your alley.

“So tell me again that you’re not beautiful. Tell me again that I deserve someone better because I don’t. I already have the best, wouldn't want anyone else.” Mitsuya softly strokes your cheek, the love in his eyes so bright, so caring—almost as if he was handling fragile glass that could shatter at any moment—you break out into tears a third time, burying your head in the concave of his chest, arms wrapping around you like a warm, fuzzy blanket.

(You’ve never been so loved before. Your heart almost hurts with how much Mitsuya gives you.)

“It’s messy in here, feel stuffy just looking at everything. Maybe we should call it a day and clean up, and when we’re done, we can cook dinner. With some candles and nice music in the back. And we can eat while watching those ghibli movies you love.” Mitsuya’s soft rumble of a voice purrs in his chest, right where you rest your head, the beat of his heart, the smell of your shared detergent and freshener mixed with his crisp cologne is something that finally, once and for all, calms you down.

You’re home, after all—Mitsuya is your home.

Mitsuya loves you so much that he feels a little sick sometimes.

When you’re away, he’s distraught that you’re not with him, and even in the same room, within the same space, he wants you closer, close enough that you fill the empty space beside him, hoping it’s never empty again. He likes how you slot into his side like a missing puzzle piece, your face snug in his neck, your body molding into his, and his arms hooking perfectly into your waist.

He also likes how he fills in missing pieces of yourself, so much that it’s perfect. You’re perfect for him, he doesn’t understand why you can’t see it. He doesn’t understand how you don’t see the way he smiles whenever you’re in sight, how hugging you heals his tired, aching bones from days of hard work, how you don’t feel his heart beating so loud sometimes or how it slows down into content happiness, how you don’t feel the sparks of electricity when you kiss, when you touch.

You and him fall into each other easily, hand in hand, side by side, heart to heart, and like two hands grabbing for each other until they’re finally intertwined.

why can’t you see that?

He doesn’t mind that you’re forgetful or a little air-headed sometimes, like you always worry about, because he reminds you anyways, all the time. You don’t ever need to worry about anything again, now that he’s in your life—and he intends to stay.

He’ll fight tooth and nail if he has to, he’ll keep fighting even when you give up, if he has to.

So how can he not love you? When all of these tiny things about you make his heart fill with so much love he feels it’ll explode?

How can he not, when you complete him? Seeping into the crevices of his flaws and weaknesses like a half-full glass finally being filled.

(But it’s fine. He’ll remind you again and again through each caress of your body that he commits to memory. He’ll tell you over and over again as he kisses your bare skin, mumbling and grunting his praises, worshiping you like a follower to a god, following after you like a bee to sweet nectar. He’ll do all that if he has to because you are worth it.)

fallen | ft. first year trio

synopsis. when they realize that they've fallen for you

tags. fluff , sakura / suo / nirei x gn!reader (separate)

— sakura realizes that he has fallen for you when he starts to think about you more often than usual, it was only a little at first, like your smiles and laughs but now full-on pictures/scenes pop up on his mind when thinking of you. for instance, he was going to bed but when he closes his eyes, the scene of you tending to his little cuts and bruises after a fight, suddenly appear on his mind. not only that, whenever your around his heartbeat races and his cheeks warm up, he also feels like he needs to run away — away from you.

he told his friends about this and they kept teasing him that he's really fallen head over heels for you, he denied these allegations but it definitely bothered him the whole day.

has he really for you? are you really the cause of these weird things he's feeling right now? while he was too focused thinking about these, you call to him by his first name “haruka!” making him almost jump out from his chair. his name has never sounded that good coming from someone, you sounded so happy when you said it too. he's flustered about this but gives you permission to keep calling by his first name, only you. your giggling with happiness as he said that, making him think that he really has fallen head over heels for you.

— suo has always been a on guard but he finds himself uncharacteristically letting his guard down around you. he was worried that he was getting too soft, or maybe it was because you're comfortable around, or that he's catching feelings for you? he's not sure. but these questions were answered when you both find each other at opposite sides of the pedestrian lane, the light was still green so you two just look at each other. you waved your arms while yelling his name, “suoo !!! ”, you had the biggest smile on your face and suo thinks that you're the most beautiful person in the world. he waves back with a soft smile on his face, ignoring the slight blush that forms on his cheeks. the idea of falling for you doesn't seem too bad.

— nirei realizes that he have fallen for you when you manage to remember everything he says, even the tiniest detail. it may look insignificant to others but it means a lot to nirei, he's always talking and most of the time — people tend to forget the things he says. but you on the other hand, remember everything about him, which can only mean that you pay attention and listen attentively to him.

you were chatting with nirei at the pothos café when you mentioned that you wanted to go thrifting at this store nirei mentioned, he was surprised that you remembered that because he only mentioned this once — and it was three months ago too. at this moment, nirei realizes that he has fallen for you. he gets excited about the idea of a thrift date so he happily accepts your offer to have him by your side.

n. got inspired while listening to 'fallen' by lola amour !! (*ˊᗜˋ*) i love the song, especially the cozy cove version !!! <3 had a tough time writing for suo bcus i don't really get him :( hope it's still enjoyable tho!

t. does this count bcus haruka's here, @kyoghurts?（´∇｀''）

TSUBAKI CONTENT??? PLS I LOVE HER SM (*´˘`*)♡

TSUBAKI AS YOUR GIRLFRIEND!

notes. the only reason why i got into windbre is because of her and mister white-haired blue-eyed hajime umemiya. (im gonna explode)

contents and warnings. mostly fluff, tsubaki is referred to using she/her pronouns (pls she is heavily transfem-coded), making out (mentioned, non explicit).

✦ Somehow, some way, you managed to get into a relationship with someone as cool and awesome as her! How? Why? You aren't sure, but you don't question it, afraid that it'll backfire on you.

✦ Tsubaki is extremely affectionate and loves PDA. She would hold your hand if you let her to, squeezing it occasionally to make sure you're still hanging onto her. It's a small, little habit that you have formed— a wordless communication.

✦ Sometimes, when she sees you from a distance, she'll run up to you and either greet you with a hug or surpise you with a hug from behind. Forgive her if she buries her face into your hair and smells your shampoo, it makes her giddy when you use the new scented shampoo she recommended you.

✦ More often than not, you'll find lipstick marks all over you when she goes to attack you with kisses. It's a fun surprise whenever you suddenly find a mark on your forehead or on your jaw... It's kind of embarrassing, but hey, that's love you suppose.

✦ If you aren't comfortable with PDA, Tsubaki will understand and will adjust to be more affectionate behind closed doors.

✦ She loves to have sleepovers at your place, even more so when your parents are so welcoming and accepting of her. You'd guys have self-care sessions, pulling out skin-care kits and applying facemasks while watching a movie together; Sometimes, you'd have long rant-filled talks about random things you guys find interest in. The sleepovers often end in either cuddling or makeout sessions that also ends up in cuddling.

✦ Uses pet names, but to the point it's unbearingly sweet. Most of the time, it's the slip of a tongue like "Could pass me the salt, darling?", "Oh, sweetheart, don't cry" and "Don't keep me waiting, Angel"... And the other half is just teasing because she just loves watching you become all flustered.

✦ She's also easily flustered, so you guys have flirting competitions and the first to become shy loses. It's a cute, little bonding moment!

✦ Shopping dates are a must! It's practically a ritual for you both. At first, she brought you along, so you can give your honest opinion whenever she tries out new accesories or outfits. But when you start to do the same, you bet she'll be hyping you up. Even more so when you're the type to stick in your personal bubble and avoid new things.

✦ She's the kind of girlfriend that'll introduce you to things you never thought of trying before, but you're glad you did because it makes you so happy! And that's her number one goal when it comes to you.

✦ Whenever you're feeling down, she's there to comfort you. If you need a calm voice to listen to, she's there to sit beside you and offer her shoulder to dry your tears. She'll pat your head and tell you everything's going to be alright, and just lots of encouraging things.

✦ She'd do anything she can to distract you from your thoughts, even going as far as take out on dates and have you focus on being happy instead of whatever your problem is.

✦ Tsubaki just cares so much and loves you lots, and she wants you to be is comfortable around her. So if you have a problem with anything (i.e loud noises, crowds, being uncomfortable with affection), she'll understand and adjust. All she asks is you do the same for her as well!

✦ With her, people don't even make you a target. I mean, she is one of the four heavenly kings in Boufurin. Anyone who messes with her beloved, messes with her.

✦ If anyone dares to push their luck, well... They best be prepared because she isn't going to let that slide.

✦ And after she's done teaching them a very important lesson on how to keep their noses in their own business, she's off to giving you all the love and affection you deserve, making you forget all about anyone that tried to hurt you.