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zer05trange · 17 days

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Roaring Sea

VIII. Blue Velvet Pouch

⋆｡°✩ (childe x fem!reader)✩°｡⋆

⋆｡°✩ premise: A few years later, you spend a few quiet moments in your new home, before setting off in the frosty air of your nation's winter.

⋆｡°✩warnings: none!

⋆｡°✩ series masterlist

There's beauty in silence. Not a complete silence, but a welcoming quietness that looms around a home. Specifically, the silence of the morning.

You stand in your kitchen, your new kitchen, in solitude and silence. The lack of sound only amplifies your other senses, and the croissants you pulled out of your oven are filling your large home with their scent.

It’s taking some harsh adjusting to, but your new living space has become a home to you. It’s large, much bigger than the humble apartment above your bakery. It overlooks all of Snezhnaya, each window displaying a gorgeous view of your nation. It is way fancier than any house you’ve been in, and you imagine that the rest of the houses by it are as nice too. The other houses, of course, belong to the remaining harbingers.

You’re thankful that in the few years you’ve lived here, you haven’t met most of your neighbors. Not that they have any interest in you, but they’re part of the reason why you were so hesitant to move in.

“Good morning,” You hear from outside the oversized room. Ajax makes his way down the elegant staircase and into the kitchen, dressed to fit the cold weather outside.

“Where are you going?” You ask as he makes his way closer to you, puzzled at how clothed he is this early in the morning.

“I have to finish some paperwork,” He sighs as he stands right next to you and picks up a croissant.

“You just got back, though,” You sip on your warm drink, bumping your hip into his, “You gonna be back by tonight?”

“Yeah, are you checking in with the bakery today?” He asks.

“Mhm, I need to make sure our new manager has everything under control,” You respond, biting into your own pastry.

“I’ll be back before you’re home, then,” He responds, taking your free hand and fiddling with the ring on your finger. You look up at him with a tired smile, unashamedly admiring him as you put down your food. He smiles back, his closed lips holding a mouthful of bread.

“You know, if I could,” He swallows, “I’d stay here all day with you, all week even.”

“Sappy,” You roll your eyes, and turn to refill your drink. He grabs your arm and twirls you back around, pulling you closer to his chest. You grunt from the force of your cheek hitting his coated chest, causing him to pull away from you for a moment.

“What? Is my жена already tired of me?” He asks, in a joking tone.

“No, your жена hasn’t woken up yet,” You look up at him, with your eyebags on display. He laughs at your comment, and you have no idea where he gets that energy that early.

You can’t help but smile at the man through your tiredness, though. You reach up to place a kiss on his lips, and you can feel him smile before he returns the favor. You stay like that for a moment, before you feel the heat of his lips disappear.

“I have to go,” He pulls away from you. You nod, looking up at him once again. You straighten his thick scarlet scarf that drooped down below his neck, before kissing him one last time. He heads toward the front door of your large house, his heavy boots clanking against the expensive floor with each step. He says goodbye, I love you, and a promise to come home alive, all three being a daily occurrence in his morning routine.

You finish your breakfast before heading upstairs to your shared bedroom, ready to get dressed for the day. You pass through your bedroom and into your closet, putting at least three layers on to protect yourself from the nation’s frost. After donning your final coat, you head back to your bedroom. A glimmer catches your eye, and you turn your head.

A small velvet pouch sits on the made bed. The exact same blue bag Ajax had given you the first night you met him. You walk over to it, sitting on your bed beside it. You pick it up and hold it in your hands before opening it. Inside, you pull out a small press-dried glaze lily, a necklace with a beautifully shaped cor lapis charm, and a folded piece of paper. You open the paper, and it’s clear to be a written letter from Ajax.

Лисичка,

You know apologies are not my strongest suit, but I would like to say I’m sorry for leaving you alone in our home for months at a time, and not being here as much as I want.

As I’m writing this, I’m waiting for my ship on Liyue harbor, and I cannot get you out of my mind. What a wonderful woman I’ve married! One that lets me be away from her for work, but is ready to accept me back the moment I’m home. One that forgave me on a harbor very much like the one I’m on, when I messed up in what I thought was an unforgivable mistake. One that has so much love to give, and one that accepts the crazy and undying love coming from myself.

I was talking to Mr. Zhongli, and he helped me pick out this necklace for you. The glaze lily I picked for myself. It reminds me of the night when you gave into my annoying ways, and let me spend time with you.

I'm not good with word, but I guess what I’m trying to say is that you are everything to me. Anything and everything. And I couldn’t be more grateful that you let me into your busy life with open arms. I promise to love you more and more with each letter I write, each expedition, and each day.

– Ajax

You fold the letter back up, not realizing a spare tear escaped from your left eye. Doesn’t he know what he does to you? You let yourself sit and soak in the letter’s contents for a moment, before realizing that it’s best to leave soon for the bakery.

You have one more thing to do, and that is to put on the gorgeous golden necklace. You carefully place the flower and letter back into the pouch before putting it into your pocket. You head downstairs and out the door, where the coldness of Snezhnaya seems more forgiving to you this morning.

⋆｡°✩translation: жена wife

⋆｡°✩a/n: Thank y'all so much for reading!! I hope to start writing another chapter story soon <3 and my request box is open as of right now!! I hope yall enjoyed reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it!

⋆｡°✩tag list: @inlovewithlondonn @zamorazz @ay4tou @kur0melon @boomie-123 @esthelily @i-simp-for-giyuu @itsflowerdomethings @whatamidoing89 @luvrkise @ninjaartsimping

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zer05trange · 2 months

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Roaring Sea

VII. On Ice

⋆｡°✩ (childe x fem!reader)✩°｡⋆

⋆｡°✩ wc: 2.4k

⋆｡°✩warnings: none for this chapter!

⋆｡°✩ series masterlist

It’s cold. Snezhnaya is unforgiving, per usual. But something is different about the cold this year. Something about going to sleep and waking up in a cold bed, or walking outside and feeling the wind bite your face harsher than normal, it feels different.

When you carelessly burnt your finger in the oven, you could only feel the icy burn that came with it. Alternatively, the word “cold” in your life could be switched with "numbness". That’s all you’ve felt, numb. An overwhelming numbness overcame you, and you knew exactly why.

One month. You can’t pinpoint it exactly, but it was approximately one month since he left you that night. You don’t blame him, you demanded that he leave and he listened. And you can’t necessarily blame yourself either. It was terrifying, what you saw, and what you learned. Witnessing it was like a whiplash, so sudden and violent, yet there was little you could’ve done to stop it. Everything happens for a reason, and Celestia wanted you to see what you did at that moment. Whilst thinking over the situation, an old lullaby circled through your head:

You make a pinkie promise, you keep it all your life. You break a pinkie promise, I throw you on the ice. The cold will kill the pinkie that once betrayed your friend, the frost will freeze your tongue off so you never lie again.

It’s not like he promised you anything, but he did lie. And in Snezhnaya, lying is condemnable. It rang around in your head when you thought of his face that night outside of your home. It swam around while he tried to talk with you the day after. And it carried over for the weeks it took you to mull over it.

Yet, you’ve begun to miss him. Begun may be a stretch, because mere hours after he left, you realized that his presence would be missing from your life. And having someone that you spend so much time with to be ripped away within minutes really does something to a person.

You spent a good amount of your time walking through the city, trying to find any trace of him. You even kept an eye on the Fatui meandering about downtown, making sure that none of them took a second glance at you. And they didn’t, besides their usual patrols through the city.

After your conversation with Teucer, Tartaglia's lies became more evident to you. Tartaglia wasn’t in Liyue to make and sell toys. He was in Liyue for the Tsaritsa’s bidding, and most likely causing chaos and slaughtering human beings while at it. But you kept the secret, you care for Teucer beyond the bounds of Tartaglia, and Teucer does not need to know the gruesome details of what his brother did for a living. But he gave you an answer, at least.

Tartaglia went off to Liyue, away from Snezhnaya. Away from you.

You found this out a little over a week after he left your apartment. It had been three weeks since you found it out by now, so by doing simple math, you haven’t seen him in over a month.

It sucked. It didn’t take you too long to realize why it sucked too. You felt deeper feelings for Tartaglia. Feelings that transcended a crush or a situationship, and you knew it was called love. You don’t like calling it love due to your pride, and you discovering his secret job , so you attempt to not think about the word.

It’s hard not to think about it, though. The man you realized you love was now in a different country. He left for work, and he left when you drove him away. He wouldn’t come back to you and your bakery unless it was for his brother. Even then, the only traces you’d see of him would be through the eyes of Teucer.

It took you weeks to process your emotions and what occurred that night in your apartment. You let Ivan run the shop for a while, before finally getting yourself downstairs and interacting with your customers first hand. So after some time, you began to reinstate a routine in your life. You woke up, began baking, ran your shop until it closed, and you finally found yourself outside in Snezhnaya’s winter.

The bakery closed a few hours ago, so once you ate something warm, you made your way down the river-front of the city. You located your normal spot, which is against a cement wall that served as a protective barrier between the mainland and the harbor. There’s a small barrel with a gas lantern next to you, put there to guide light to crews and guards that walked about the harbor when the sun died out for the day. You use it to stay alive, because though you dress with multiple layers, the icy weather wasn’t something to play with. You slide down the wall, and curl yourself up into a ball with your head facing toward the river.

A cargo boat begins to take off south of the river, which means that it was going toward Liyue or Sumeru to give the limited goods it had to offer. Through your time gazing at the river, you watched a fair share of ships enter and exit the harbor. Most of which being cargo ships due to the lack of Fatui on board, and they always have an emblem on the side that signified it was carrying goods rather than people.

Though occasionally, you see the Fatui ships. Its black and blue flags could be seen for miles, the way the corners are cut into crisp edges seem as though they could cut the evening breeze air in half. Many agents stood on board, and you could see the massive amount of people on deck from miles away. When they loaded off the ship, they came off confident, victorious, and intimidating. Each time a troop walked past your sitting form, you straightened up in a sitting position.

As soon as the cargo ship takes off, you see a Fatui ship come up from the south. It’s larger than the usual Fatui ships, which is saying something considering their usual grandiose size, and its sails are imprinted with an unusual logo. You’ve never seen the emblem before, but you can tell it’s different from miles away. You watch it slowly make its way toward the harbor, its size growing with each stride it took.

A group of armed Fatui guards notice the ship itself, and stand themselves at the edge of the harbor. You don a confused look on your face, though you’ve seen a couple of Fatui ships in your spare evenings, you never saw a protocol like this being taken. As the ship neared its landing, more and more agents began to surround the loading area.

The ship docks and once in a safe position, agents begin to get off the ship. The guarding Fatuu stand still at the edge of the dock, creating an aisle for the agents to walk through. You can’t see much due to the barrier the agents made, but you were correct in your assumption that there was quite a large amount of agents on board. It seems like a parade of members are flowing out of the boat and onto the harbor.

A legionnaire, who was standing guard for the past thirty minutes, finally catches sight of you. He starts his way over to you, with big booming steps and his gun held in his arms.

“Citizens should not be out here, you will need to leave the premises,” His deep voice sends a chill down your spine. His large and muscular frame blocks any sight of what’s happening behind him, as he’s essentially cornered you against the wall. A feeling of fear creeps up within you, and you begin to think of how you’re going to get out of this situation.

“Stand down, she can stay,” A voice is heard from behind the man, which causes him to turn around and face the voice. You note that now the legionnaire has the air of fear coming off of him, almost like he’s trembling, and you wonder who could have the power to incite that fear in a Fatui agent.

The legionnaire scurries off, leaving you to face the person you couldn’t quite make out. From your sitting point, you can’t see the person’s face unless you look up. They’re nicely dressed, with a long and gray trench coat decorated in Fatui medals and pins. They have black gloves that match their pants and shoes, and a large, red scarf covering most of their neck. But when you look up, they take off their mask, and it’s the familiar face of the man who couldn’t get out of your mind.

“I won’t bother you, I just didn’t want one of my men giving you any trouble,” He backs away, noticing how your face changed from one of fear to one of defense. You look down at the wooden ground beneath you, as he turns away from you. But you can’t let it end like this, not out of a simple favor to get some legionnaire to leave you alone. You’re too stubborn for that.

“Wait,” You can’t stop yourself from speaking, your head jerking up to look at him. He turns around slowly, and watches as you nudge your head to the side, motioning for him to sit next to you. He obliges, and you hear him slide down the wall next to you. You sit in silence for a bit. Not knowing what to say, or what to do, but if he was here, you’re going to take advantage of it.

“How did you know it was me?” You ask, your face looking forward toward the water.

“I noticed when we were coming in,” He responds, also looking straight ahead, “I wouldn’t mistake you.”

You notice that though his face looks ahead, his hands are fiddling with his gloves. You straighten your back and cross your arms, huffing out a breath and seeing it puff out of your mouth.

“You could die out here,” He speaks up, seeing your body’s reaction to the cold.

“I like watching the harbor,” You curtly answer, your eyes catching onto two jumping fishes in the river. He doesn’t answer you, instead letting his hands fall in his lap and his eyes look toward the dock. By now, the harbor was almost empty, all the Fatui agents traveled back to their own respective camps. For a few minutes, you watch fish hop in and out of the water, and you don’t dare look toward Tartaglia’s way.

He clears his throat, taking a deep inhale before sighing it out.

“It’s Ajax,” You hear him say.

“What?” For the first time, you turn your eyes his way. He has a little bit of dried blood under his ear, where his signature earring dangles. Unfortunately, for your conscience, he’s still as beautiful as ever, and the moonlight makes him glow in a way you only saw once.

“My name, my real name, is Ajax,” He mutters.

“Oh,” You stop to think about it. It’s a pretty name, one that fits the man more than his many aliases you discovered.

“It’s a nice name,” You remark, “I wish I could’ve known you as Ajax.” You didn’t mean to sound harsh when you said it, but you could tell that Tar– Ajax took it the wrong way.

“Wait I’m sorr–”

“No need to apologize, I deserved it,” He brushes off with a chuckle before taking another deep breath, “I don’t think you know how sorry I am. About everything.”

“I don’t,” You respond honestly.

A few minutes of silence pass, and you interject it since he hadn't spoken up to defend himself, "Do you want to prove it?"

“Yes,” He says without missing a beat, his face turning to yours.

“I’ll give you the time,” You look back at him, so he can see how serious you are, “But I have some conditions.”

He smiles at your approach to the situation. He doesn’t think you could ever get out of your business-like mindset. It’s a part of what he fell for, after all.

“I don’t want you to die, Ajax. You can’t die, I care about you too much for you to go off and get killed,” You take in a breath, “And I want you to think more about what you’re doing. You need to be more conscientious of the decisions you make.”

He chuckles, just like how he would when you’d make a remark about the way he’d do something stupid while baking. But this time it was his life, and the lives of others, he could tell you weren’t joking about it.

“You don’t have to worry about me dying. I’m the best, after all,” Ajax remarks, adding a more upbeat tone to the conversation.

“Don’t be arrogant,” You calmly snap at him, “And one more thing.”

“Yes, Y/N?”

“You can’t lie anymore,” You look into his eyes, darkened by years of Fatui work.

“Never again,” He responds.

You think of the lullaby yet again, but before you can hold out your pinkie finger, he beats you to it. You interlock yours with his, in a childish way of setting a promise.

“If not, I’ll freeze your tongue off, and way worse,” You say with a small smile on your face, and he laughs yet again. He pulls his pinkie away from yours, and brings his arm around you, pulling your shivering body closer to him. Your head falls onto his shoulder, nuzzling into his soft coat. His head rests against yours, his hair intermingling with your strands.

It will take time, but you will make things work. Both of you will. Celestia creates things to fall into place, and with his endless determination, and your stubborn nature, there’s no doubt that the two of you can help her create what the two of you want together.

⋆｡°✩a/n: one more chapter!!! They made up :))) Thank y'all for reading!!!

⋆｡°✩tag list: @inlovewithlondonn @zamorazz @ay4tou @kur0melon @boomie-123 @esthelily @i-simp-for-giyuu @itsflowerdomethings @whatamidoing89 @luvrkise @ninjaartsimping

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zer05trange · 2 months

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Roaring Sea

V. дом

⋆｡°✩ (childe x fem!reader)✩°｡⋆

⋆｡°✩ premise: a week after you discovered the truth of Tartaglia’s occupation, his little brother comes in for a visit.

⋆｡°✩warnings: mentions of sickness, canon-typical violence

⋆｡°✩ series masterlist

Flour, eggs, apples, cinnamon, sugar, and vanilla.

For once in your life, you just stare at the ingredients in front of you. You don't begin to make your cherished sharlotka, though you were commissioned to make five of them for a wedding. The last thing that you wanted to make for a wedding was the cake you made with Tartaglia.

Childe, Tartaglia, whatever his name is.

It had been a week since you made him leave your apartment for good, announcing that you'd never want to see him again.

You've been trying to regain normalcy, the normalcy that you had before you even met him. You knew you shouldn't have tried to get into the dating world, it would ruin your relationship with your business and disturb your peace.

Today, you try to remain calm and get back into your working schedule, but the thoughts of what happened last week linger in your mind as an unwelcome visitor. As much as you try to push the memories away, it still keeps you from focusing.

You're so unfocused that you don't hear the door open, signaling a new customer coming in, and you don't hear the customer plop down at one of the counter's bar stools.

"старшая сестра!" You hear a young, familiar voice from behind you. You whip around, and your heart rate immediately picks up.

"Teucer," Your soft voice says endearingly, masking the uncomfortability of his presence, "How are you doing?"

He nods happily, beaming up at you, "I'm okay! I'm just very tired. I went on a huge adventure!"

You smile at him, absentmindedly handing him a free slice of lemon cake.

"And what were you up to?" You ask as you pour him a mug of hot chocolate.

"I traveled to Liyue!" He says innocently, "I took a boat there all by myself, and then I stayed there for a while, and then I came back."

You cock your eyebrow, waiting for him to elaborate as you turn back and bring the ingredients over across from him. But he waits for you to prompt him.

"So what business did you have traveling to Liyue all by yourself?" You look at him as you begin to chop up the apples.

"I wanted to see my big brother! He gave me some toys while I was there, then made me go back here," He responds, and your stomach drops.

It's normal for Teucer to talk about his family, and his brother, but the mention of Tartaglia makes you feel sick now.

“How was Liyue?” You ask, still trying to keep a conversation without further dragging Tartaglia into it.

Teucer lights up as he begins to talk about the eccentric lights, the food, and the scenery of Liyue. You try to actively listen, but with each mention of his brother, the knot in your stomach tightens.

" So after he gave me this toy," He holds up a tiny ruin guard, "He made me go back home. He said that I'm more safe here, and people will take care of me better in Snezhnaya."

You want to scoff, you can feel sickness rising up from your stomach. But this is Teucer just repeating his words, so you can't.

"Well, he's right. You're safer here, at home with your siblings. And you know this place much better than Liyue," You take his empty plate, "And you're always welcome here."

For someone who thought he had no soul left, the pain in Ajax's chest stood notable and cut deep. After a week, he thought he'd be able to shrug off the feelings; they weren't real, just an escape from his job, and an escape from his loneliness.

But no, he wakes up and feels horrible, he goes and does his missions and feels barren. Even when meeting with his friends, he can't escape the lingering pain manifesting in his heart and fogging up his chest.

There's only one thing that can even slightly dull the pain, and that doing the exact thing that put him in this situation.

Ahead of him and to his left, are a group of camping treasure hoarders. He can tell that they're scheming, looking for something to disrupt the order of their surroundings. Ahead and to his right, are two ruin guards walking about the mountains of Liyue.

He can feel it, that distress and anger coming from within him. And he must release it.

One group of humans, and one group of machines.

Almost mindlessly, he finds himself dashing toward the ruin guards. This way, he can bring destruction to something without killing a human being, which is what brought upon the distress and sadness he's felt for the past week.

He begins to shoot their weak points, instantly shooting them down so he could destroy them without their retaliation.

With each slash of his blades, his muscles relax further.

He doesn't know how long he's been in this field. It could've been mere minutes or lengthy hours, but finally, there's nothing left for him to fight. There's just small pieces of metal surrounding him, one couldn't even tell that there were ruin guards in the first place.

The treasure hoarders are long gone, only leaving Ajax in the barren mountain horizon.

He pants, catching his breath as he retires his weapon. Ajax feels a warm liquid on his cheek, he brings his finger up to his face and wipes it off. His finger is coated in familiar red liquid, as he notices his cut from last week had reopened.

Besides the physical sting it brought him, it was yet another reminder of what occurred the week before. With every step he took in Liyue, he found some sign or symbol that brought him back to the bakery in Snezhnaya.

He'd come back to Snezhnaya once his time in Liyue was over. But would Ajax ever return to the bakery? Would he ever come back to you?

If it was up to him, he'd take the first ship out of Liyue and dash out of it, returning to the stairwell to your apartment instantly.

One day, he hopes to see you walking downtown the streets of Snezhnaya. He'd make a fool out of himself to win you back, even if it meant tarnishing his reputation as a harbinger to the public.

But it's not up to him. You told him you never wanted to see him again, so he will abide by it. No matter how much it hurts him.

⋆｡°✩translation: дом- home, старшая сестра- big sister

⋆｡°✩a/n: Hello!! I am so sorry for not posting on schedule! Midterms hit me like a TRUCK but I took some time to finish writing the work! I have a few more chapters left!! Thank you guys for reading and supporting me, it means the world <3333

⋆｡°✩tag list: @inlovewithlondonn @zamorazz @ay4tou @kur0melon @boomie-123 @esthelily @i-simp-for-giyuu @itsflowerdomethings @whatamidoing89 @luvrkise @ninjaartsimping

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zer05trange · 2 months

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Roaring Sea

IV. Good Things

⋆｡°✩ (childe x fem!reader)✩°｡⋆

⋆｡°✩ wc: 3.5k

⋆｡°✩warnings: angst, graphic violence, slight gore (blood), mentions of sickness and getting sick

⋆｡°✩: series masterlist

“Ivan, you can go ahead and clock out for today,” You say, with your arms deep within the oven, “I do need you all day tomorrow, though. You’ll probably need to close, if that’s okay with you.”

“Yes ma’am,” You hear him from behind you. He should be satisfied with that, he was rightfully busy with school over the past few months, so he hasn’t got many hours in recently.

The boy proceeds to leave the store after getting half of the tips, and when he opens the door, a gust of cold wind blows in. You immediately start shivering. Even with the many years you’ve lived in Snezhnaya, her cold touch always froze you half to death.

As the sun started to set, it began to be more dangerous to be outside for any longer than necessary. Your mind begins to wonder about Tartaglia, and how he’s fairing in the biting weather. It had been around 13 hours since he left you earlier that morning, so he must have felt the frostiness of the winter at some point in the day.

You need to stop thinking about him, though difficult, because the mere thought of him makes you anxious. And at this point, you can’t tell whether the anxiousness is from worriment or excitement. So instead, you try to focus your brain on closing your bakery for the day and serving your last customers.

By the time that the least customer left your bakery, and all of your. closing tasks were finished, it was close to 11:00pm. You sigh as you turn off the lights and head upstairs, locking the door behind you.

You quickly change into some comfortable house-clothes before walking over to the kitchen to heat up the leftover soup that Tartaglia brought the night before. You heat the bowl on the stove and steeping a pot of tea, flipping through pages of a novel while you wait. Eventually, you take your filled bowl and mug over to your sofa, where you begin to eat your meal.

You stare at the wall opposite you, looking at the vast amounts of pictures and paintings that mounted it. If anyone saw you, they'd be able to tell that something was bothering you. That may have been because of Tartaglia’s absence, or the whole Tartaglia situation itself. You can't tell.

You continue to eat and stare, trying to keep your peace amongst your sea of thoughts. And you do achieve some sort of peace for a few minutes.

That is, until you hear loud noises coming from outside the window of your back room.

It makes you jump, at first. There’s yelling, and clashing of metal, and even screams. You quickly, yet quietly, make your way to the source of the sound. The back window faces the other side of Snezhnaya.

There isn’t a nice city street to gaze upon, but rather the isolating and barren landscape of the Snezhanayan mountains. You get close to the window, and even with minimal lighting outside, you can see that there are two groups of people having some sort of… battle.

One group is being cornered against a large, snow-covered rock, while the other, which is much larger in size, approaches them. You realize that the more powerful group is unmistakably a Fatui squad.

There are a few agents, cicin mages, as well as a legionnaire and a vanguard. They’re massive, as well, but they’re forming a protective u-shape around someone. It must be their leader, you think, as the group seemingly follows each meticulous move from the center. You squint your eyes to get a better look at the group causing so much noise, but the darkness outside hinders your ability to get a clear look.

The vanguard lunges for the main leader of the smaller group, which you think is a band of treasure hoarders, and grabs at him. He turns the hoarder around by the back of the neck, where he’s now facing the Fatui group, about four inches off the ground as well. The Fatui leader gets closer to him, barking something unintelligible at the man before bringing his hand up to the neck of the hoarder.

The Fatuu swipes their hand across the man’s neck causing it to slit open. As the leader does so, you could swear that you saw a flash of purple-like lightning. The man’s throat opens and blood gets everywhere. Everywhere. You put your hand over your mouth to cover a gasp as the vanguard drops the man to the ground, whose body is convulsing on its way to death.

This is the first time you’ve seen someone die. Sure, you’ve beat some people up for commissions, even a treasure hoarder or two, but killed someone? Never, and you can’t see yourself doing so. It makes you feel nauseated to see how the man’s life was ripped away so fast.

But you can't look away. You keep watching as the Fatui are signaled by their leader to ambush the rest of the hoarder group. You witness how they butcher each and every one of the smaller, weaker group. You see the hoarders being bashed by the vanguard’s hammer, slashed to pieces by the agent’s blades, and how cicins and frost are released by the mage and legionnaire. You want to look away, but your eyes remain glued to the scene.

Their leader gets in on the action and is somehow more violent and bloodthirsty than the rest, despite being less muscular than the others. You can tell from here that the leader is a man, as well.

He begins to slash and stab using some sort of water-like sword, and you know that means he’s not just some Fatui soldier. He has a vision and a delusion, he must be a harbinger.

The blood of the hoarders soaks into the snow, a deep pool of crimson surrounding the entire scene. The Fatui group starts celebrating in victory as the last hoarder goes silent, and they turn around to head the opposite way. Since they now face your general direction, you attempt to hide yourself while still watching the group. They get closer and closer to the streetlights of the strip you live on, and you stay to see what exactly was going on. Their leader gets into a visible light first, and your eyes blow wide.

The leader has a disgusting grimace on his face, with eyes blown wide and a face of pure malice donning on him. His irises are so small you can barely see them, but rather, a sea of white paints over his eyes. He has a grin akin to the cheshire cat, each corner pulled to a supernatural looking upturn. It’s a face of nightmares, one so scary that it distracts you from the fact that the face belongs to

Tartaglia.

You freeze in place.

No, absolutely no way. It cannot actually be him. There’s no way that the sweet, fun-loving Tartaglia you knew is the same man you were looking at at the moment. It couldn't be possible that the left cheek which is covered in a helpless man’s blood, was the same one that you softly brushed flour off of. The face that you woke up to this morning, the face you kissed this morning, was the same face that donned such a horrifying expression. The eyes that looked at your face with so much adoration, were unrecognizable as they were clouded over in a bloodthirsty haze.

You can’t believe it.

Out the fear of being caught, or pure weakness, you fall to the floor and out of the window's view. You can feel your dinner coming up from your stomach, but you physically cannot move. You’re shaking, you feel so numb that you can’t feel the multiple tears streaming out from your waterline and down your face.

He didn’t just lie to you about his job, but he actively kept it from you. A harbinger one of the most dangerous and well-known individuals in all of Tevyat, has now been frequenting your bakery almost every day.

There’s no way people don’t know, right? More socially knowledgeable Snezhnayans visit your shop every day and must see you happily chatting to a Fatui Harbinger.

It begins to make sense to you, even in a state of shock. His body being covered in scars, the fact that he never took you outside of the bakery, or how he always left in the early hours of the morning.

How many people has he killed? How many dark deeds has he done, and then come into your home to hold and kiss you as if nothing happened?

And his face was so, so horrifying. Distorted to the point where it was almost unrecognizable to the person he’s spent almost every night with. His lightless eyes blown so wide, and even being in the darkness for so long, his pupils were almost invisible.

His smile, not that you could call it that, was so wide and full of pure bloodlust. And there was blood all over his face, the parts that you kissed, held, and brushed over with your thumb almost daily. It was in his mouth, as if he had internal injuries, and matted itself in his hair. The hair you love to brush through, grab at, and ruffle.

Your sobs are silent. At some point, you get yourself to your bathroom, where you sit beside the toilet in case you get sick after what you’ve seen. Through your choked sobs and curled up body, you feel exhaustion setting in. And eventually, with your back against the bathtub, you fall asleep against the cold tile.

the next day

Today was a good day for Ajax. He got through with training his Fatui underlings before lunchtime, and quickly finished off his day with mandatory, though grueling, paperwork. He was working efficiently, but it was very quick-paced, even for him. He knows exactly why he was so quick in his actions today, too. He can’t deny it any longer, he’s fallen for a woman who runs a bakery.

He never thought he’d see the day. He thought his heart was too cold. He wouldn’t even say he had a heart, not after falling down and witnessing the horrors of the abyss. He cared for his family so deeply that the abyss couldn’t even take it away from him, but one other person in his heart? He couldn’t imagine a world where he could let another person into it.

But now he’s living that reality.

He's never felt the feeling of it outside of his immediate family, but he has to be sure about it. The feeling that warmed his frozen heart, is love. It has to be.

And it scares the 11th.

It scares him how much he worries for you once he leaves your presence. It scares him how for the longest time, you acted as if you denied any idea of a future with him. It scares him when he thinks of you moving on from him, and finding someone else. But that recurring thought is more than fright, it brings on anger and anxiety.

As he walks down the city, he thinks of the idea, and immediately brushes it off before his electro delusion sets off. Again.

He needs to tell you about his job, and soon.

It’s not like he intentionally meant to keep it from you from the start, it was Teucer who introduced you to Ajax through his stories, and Ajax had to keep that up around his brother. You just got caught in a protective lie.

And his name, you need to know it. He’ll give it a few more dates, Ajax thinks. He needs you in his future, without the lies and without the cover-ups.

It’s only 5:00PM, and he’s sure that he can get you to close the bakery early to go on your planned date with him. He’s wearing a more put-together and warm outfit than his usual uniform and even found himself double-checking his look in the mirror to look good for you. In his eyes, you’re so gorgeous, too beautiful for his tainted eyes to look upon. So, to try and get even get close to your level of beauty, he took some extra time in getting ready.

He tightens his scarf around the bottom of his face. Man, the weather today is intense. Ajax begins to wonder whether going outside with you is the smartest idea. But it has to be, if it's what you want.

He’s always known that he wants to add to his family, regardless of whether he could ever love again or not. But now, he has someone he loves, and someone that he could see fitting in perfectly to his future. So he has to try, Ajax has to win the battle over your affections.

And if that means he has to be out in the cold, or anywhere else other than the comfort of your little apartment, he would stand out in the weather for thousands of hours. If it meant he could be with you.

He was so caught up in his thoughts that he missed the bakery by a few steps. He quickly retraces them to the front door of the shop, and looks into the bakery from its large glass panes. You aren’t in there, or in sight at least, instead there’s a boy behind the counter.

Oh hell no.

He confidently enters the bakery and makes a bee-line to the front counter.

“Welcome, is there anything I can help you with today?” He hears the man speak.

“Where’s Y/N?” Ajax asks with a friendly tone. But the glint in his eyes is nothing but friendly, instead, he’s staring down the man with dangerous eyes.

“Ms. Y/N is sick at the moment. If you need me to take a word for you, I’ll gladly tell her when she’s bett–”

“No,” Ajax barks at the boy before making his way behind the counter and to the door leading up to your home. He sees who he hopes is just your employee getting ready to defend your privacy, but Ajax just side-eyes him and scoffs before opening the unlocked door, and locking it from behind him.

He makes his way up the steps, as he begins to worry over your health. Sick? In the months he’s known you, you’ve never felt under the weather. Specifically, on the one day he was going to take you out and ask you to be something official with him. That can’t be intentional–right? Not after yesterday morning.

He reaches the front door to your home, and hesitates to turn the knob. What if you’re too sick to see him, or you don’t want to see him? He finds how disgustingly dependent he is when it comes to you.

He turns the knob, finding that it is locked. So he tries to knock, three separate times. On the third, he hears your voice. Oh thank the archons, you’re decent enough to speak. Though your voice is hoarse.

“Ivan? Is that you?” You respond from the other side of the door. Who the fuck is Ivan?

He hears you unlock the door, and open it. He notices you before you notice it’s him, and you do look like you’ve been sick. Your hair is unkempt, and your eyes have darker circles around them, and they’re puffy. You’ve been crying.

He’ll slaughter the person that made you this upset.

But before he can say anything, you lock eyes with him, and sharply inhale through your teeth.

A gasp? Why are you

“How did you get up here?” You hiss at him. Your face is full of fear, as well. Ajax thinks of the thousands of reasons you could possibly be so alert, each possibility making him more anxious.

“Your door was unlocked! We were going out today... right?” He says with a nervous chuckle, trying to qualm whatever mood you were in.

“You can’t be in here,” You respond shakily, taking a step backward from him each second.

“Y/N, what’s wrong?” Ajax says, “Can we talk?”

He closes the door behind him, against your wishes. His face is now as worried as yours is, yet you’re trembling in his presence. Your face is no longer looking at his, now it faces the floor.

“You want to talk now?” Your face still looking at the floor, “Yet you didn’t want to tell me that you’re in the Fatui? That you are a harbinger?”

Oh.

“Y/N, I–”

“You what? Were you ever going to tell me?" You bark quietly.

He stays silent, so you continue.

"When were you going to tell me that when you weren’t with me, you were mercilessly slaughtering helpless people?” Your words are filled with venom, like you were condemning him with your statements.

“Y/N, who told you about this?” He responds, his voice getting shaky itself.

“Why? So you can go kill them too?” Your voice begins to raise before you take a deep breath, “I saw you! and you looked so- so…”

“Y/N–”

“Stop it! Stop saying my name,” You yell at him, “If you wanted to keep this from me, you should maybe be quieter when you go and kill someone right outside of my home.”

“I never meant to keep it from you,” He says, in a voice much quieter than your own.

“Last time I checked, a toy maker was a little different from being a harbinger, Childe.”

The use of his Fatui alias shocked him. Have you just been mulling and researching over this all day? It’s unlike you, almost too unlike you. He never said that name, did he? Where did you get this information?

“A Toy-maker is what I use to keep what I do from my young brother,” He snaps, then realizing the tone he just took with you. He takes a deep breath and a pause before continuing, “I am so sorry. I really am, and I was going to tell you. But I can’t tell just anyone what I do.”

He knows the second it left his mouth, he knew he fucked up.

“Just anyone,” You repeat with a small, pained smile, “you need to leave, now.”

“No– Y/N, I didn’t mean it like that,” He responds, taking a step closer to you. You back away in fear, while simultaneously summoning a sword out of pure elemental energy. You bring your sword in front of you, as a means to protect you.

He stands back, out of respect and shock. You drew your weapon on him... something he never thought you'd do outside of a playful spar. His eyes widen at your gesture, as he puts his hands at his side.

“I am scared,” You almost whisper. He can feel his stomach drop when you mutter it, too. The one person, in all of Tevyat that shouldn’t be scared of him, just declared it right in his presence, "What am I supposed to do, Tartaglia? I mean, I don't even know your name!"

“You have no reason to be scared, you are one of the most protected citizens in this nation. Even when I’m not there, you’re still protected,” He tries to comfort you. But that didn’t work, because your eyes were blown wide at his confession.

“What do you mean by that? Do you have people stalking me?” You yell at him, “Tartaglia I am scared of you. I was scared by what I witnessed. And I am scared of the face I saw on you last night," You spit out nervously. His heart cracks slightly, an unnerving and unfamiliar feeling.

"You enjoy it, don’t you? You enjoy stripping the lives away of others, I could tell. Honestly, Tartaglia, I would be okay with the whole Fatui thing, I would. But your face, and your smile, after killing someone? I don’t think I can–” You cut yourself off, “Please, just leave. I don’t want people watching me, so stop that too. You don’t need to come back either.”

He can’t find the words to explain himself any longer. He wants to scream that he loves you, and he never meant to keep anything from you.

But in a rare defeat, he begins to take steps backward toward the door. The entire time he gets closer to the door, he’s looking at you. He can see how a few tears escaped your eyes, and how the sword you’re holding is shaking along with your body at this point.

“Alright Y/N,” He mutters quietly, before turning the knob and softly closing the door behind him.

He could feel it physically, the heart he thought was no longer there, was breaking. He should’ve seen it coming, he had a few fleeting months of happiness, but all good things must come to an end for him.

⋆｡°✩a/n: this fic is actually anti—situationship propaganda >:). Thank you for reading, next chapter will be out soon!

⋆｡°✩tag list: @inlovewithlondonn @zamorazz @ay4tou @kur0melon @boomie-123 @esthelily @i-simp-for-giyuu @itsflowerdomethings @whatamidoing89 @luvrkise

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zer05trange · 2 months

Note

hiii!! can i be part of the taglist for roaring sea? <333 i love it sm!!

Of course!! And thank you 🫶🫶🫶

#genshin x you #genshin impact #genshin x reader #genshin x y/n #ajax x reader #childe #childe tartagalia #childe x reader #fatui x reader #female reader

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zer05trange · 3 months

Text

Roaring Sea

III. Borscht

⋆｡°✩ (childe x fem!reader)✩°｡⋆

⋆｡°✩ wc: 2.5k

⋆｡°✩warnings: suggestive but no actual smut, there is a few month time skip in between the last chapter and this one!!

⋆｡°✩ series masterlist

There’s no way this could’ve been going on for weeks. No, at this point, you could count the amount of time in months. Still, you think in denial, you couldn’t be doing this.

Most nights, you spent with Tartaglia. At first, it began in the bakery, and ended upstairs in your home much like the first time it happened. The two of you spent hours talking, laughing, and some nights, it would escalate into something more. But gradually, he began to just show up at the second-floor door to your apartment and forgot the formality of hanging out in your bakery before.

Like tonight.

Your back is facing away from the door when Tartaglia walks in, but you're too focused on rearranging your bookshelf to notice him.

He walks in quietly, immediately noticing that your attention is elsewhere. Carefully, he walks straight behind you and slowly puts his hands right over your shoulders, preparing to attack at any moment.

"You're noisier than you think,” You say to him without turning to face him.

Tartaglia chuckles and drops his hands. Caught in the act, he moves from behind you to stand next to you.

“I can be stealthy when I want to be,” He responds, looking at you in adoration.

“Mhm, sure,” You respond as you straighten a painting in front of you, “I’d like to see you successfully scare me.”

He smiles again, finding this a perfect opportunity to place his hand on the small of your back and push you enough to face him.

Swiftly, the man brings his lips to yours, kissing you softly. But the sweet moment ends as quick as it began as he pulls away from the grasp and walks to your kitchen.

“My mother made us her signature dish,” He says as he places a bag on the counter. He pulls out a plastic tub of a red—hued soup. He looks... weaker than normal. For how he usually is, his lack of energy and quick quips concern you. You follow him into your kitchen and watch him unpack it, and he begins to go over to the oven.

“Wait,” You grasp onto his sweater, “go sit down, I’ll heat up the food.”

He looks at you for a moment, slightly confused, “But—“

“Im not arguing about this. Go relax, you look tired,” You push him out of your kitchen and toward your tiny dining area. Tartaglia looks at you, slightly dejected, but you’re right. He physically looks tired, and though you’re not exactly lively after a day of work, you’re better off than he is.

He sits facing you, his back toward the windowsill overlooking the city. The man watches you heat up his mother’s gift, studying each movement you make down to the minute details.

“Tough day?” You look back at him for a moment, “You’re quieter than usual.”

He smiles softly as he sits back in the chair, “I’m just enjoying the relaxing environment.”

You giggle as you pour two cups of tea, promptly bringing one over to him. The soup begins to simmer, so you pour it into two bowls and bring it over to the table. You sit next to him and look at his face, a small cut resides on his cheekbone.

You brush over it with your thumb, looking at him with a face of worry.

“They’ve got you working under some foul conditions, don’t they?” You look in his eyes.

Tartaglia laughs softly at your choice of words, “Yeah, they do.”

A smile finds itself on your face and you let go of his cheek, deciding that it was time to dig into the soup. He’s brought it before, his mother always made enough servings for the two of you and additional leftovers. It’s delicious, something you could only hope to make.

In silence, the two of you enjoy the meal. The atmosphere is so serene, especially for how witty you can be and how… energetic Tartaglia can be. It’s domestic, almost too domestic for an unofficial relationship.

But here the two of you are, eating his mother’s food, after work, in a place where you often both sleep. It’s odd, and a relatively new experience for both of you, but neither of you can deny how comfortable it feels, how right it feels.

You sneakily admire him under the dim light of the dining room table, his slight eye-bags overshadowed by the expansion of freckles on his face. His bangs, though still short, were getting longer and looked tousled and out of place after a long day’s work.

He catches you looking at him, his eyes meeting yours for a moment. With a mouthful of soup, he flashes a soft, close-lipped smile your way, one of those smiles that makes your stomach flip backward.

You wait for him to finish his food, as you had finished yours almost immediately. And as soon as he does, he stands up as if on cue.

Tartaglia takes your bowl with his and places them in the sink, then looks over at your sitting form. He nods his head in the direction of your bedroom as if to get you to follow him.

You smile and stand up in silence, following him over to your own bedroom.

“Go ahead and get comfortable, I need to get ready for bed,” You disappear into your bathroom, leaving him in your bedroom.

After making sure you were gone, and it was dark enough, Ajax begins to take off his work pants, leaving his sweater on, then sits on the side of the bed facing the window.

Patiently, like a dog, Ajax waits for you and looks out the window. He watches the moon rise over the mountains, he’d argue the view from your bedroom truly being one of the best in the city.

“This is how to be stealthy,” You whisper from behind Tartaglia, giggling as you put your chin on his shoulder and your arms around him. He jumps slightly, chuckling softly when he realizes you surprised him, somehow. The idea of his guard being let down is a foreign concept, to say the least.

You kiss his cheek and lay back in your bed, waiting for him to do the same.

“Early night tonight?” You look at him as he lays down and faces you.

“It doesn’t have to be,” He answers, a sly smirk appearing on his face.

A giggle creeps past your throat and you nudge him slightly. You get closer to him, and your lips find his in the darkness.

"Sleep," You demand softly once you pull away from his mouth. He sighs and lays back on the plush bed, bringing you close to his warmth.

His breathing slows to a tranquil rhythm, and once you know he's asleep, you let yourself rest as well.

You often thought about your dynamic with Tartaglia.

Usually, he’d spend the evening with you, which led to him spending the night. And the next morning, he’d be gone to work before you woke up. He’d always leave a note on your kitchen counter, which made you smile, but that was the extent of the morning-after communication.

Besides the abrupt leaving immediately after, the process seemed domestic. Even the notes, which became redundant, seemed a part of the comfortable routine to you after a certain point.

The domesticity was ruined by the fact that you were not, in fact, in a relationship with Tartaglia. And that began to bother you. At some blurred point, you didn’t know whether you still wanted to be all alone in your life, surrounded by your blooming business and your customers. And though you weren't necessarily bothered by whether the two of you were in a relationship in general, there wasn’t any conversation about what you could call the situation.

You couldn’t call it “friends with benefits,” because you both could agree that there was too much emotion involved. There was too much emotion while laughing and creating pastries past closing time, or in the way you gently would brush his hand when he stepped through your front door after a day without seeing him. There was too much emotion in the things you’d say to each other when only the moon and her stars could hear the two of you, and in the way he would kiss you and show his affection to you amid the night.

But no one else knew. Besides your home and your bakery, the two of you didn’t go anywhere, not for a stroll through the streets of the city, or to a shop, or even his home. You doubt Teucer even knew. It was like no one could see that you two were seeing each other almost every day.

Additionally, he would leave without a trace for a few days. After the third week of seeing him non-stop every evening, he didn’t show up for a week. And when he came back, he acted like it didn't even happen. When you asked, he quickly brushed it off as a work trip and kissed your cheek before brewing tea for you in your home kitchen.

You found it odd, beyond odd, and you began to believe he wanted to keep your whole situation with him a secret.

You’ll bring it up if you see him tonight, you think.

Your stream of thoughts stirs you awake, though you don’t feel the morning sun’s rays or the annoying noise of your way-too-early alarm clock. And you felt a strange, unfamiliar warmth surrounding you. And a weight on top of your arm. You quickly open your eyes to see–

Tartaglia.

This has to be the first time you’ve ever seen him in the morning, while in your home. You’re facing him, and within a pretty close proximity as well, and he seems to be still asleep. His breathing is calm, unlike his usual lively personality, and it’s honestly quite cute. You find yourself with a small smile on your face.

There is enough light to see his bare chest and his arm that’s draped over you, which is also an unusual sight for you to see. He must've taken off his sweater in the middle of the night, you surmise. You study his body, and your smile quickly fades. His body is covered in scars, big and small, some even reach to his arm. Much like the ones you initially discovered months ago, but so many more. There’s no way this happens by making toys, right? Maybe it’s his vision? Or he’s picking up extra commissions? But they’re so large and vast and there are so, so many of them.

“Good morning,” His voice pulls you out of your thoughts, “What time is it?”

“I don’t know,” You respond in a whisper, subsiding the worriment of your thoughts to speak to him. His arm tightens around you, his hand going from a dangle over your hip to moving toward the small of your back. He pulls you even closer to him, in a way in which his warmth radiates onto you and you can smell his cologne.

“ Probably too early for you to be awake,” He mumbles in your hair, his early-morning voice sending deep vibrations against your head.

You bring your hand up to his cheek, cupping the soft skin and brushing your thumb back and forth amongst his freckles. He keens into your touch. After months of spending time together, you found that he was surprisingly touch-starved. He was certainly inexperienced in the things he did with you, you could immediately tell that the first time he kissed you. But you didn’t feel like you should ask him about why he seemed so desperate for touch.

“Tartaglia,” You whisper to him, the thoughts that woke you up coming back to the forefront of your mind, “Why do we never leave the bakery?”

He straightens up in your bed, his arm still wrapped around you.

“What do you mean?” He asks.

“I mean we’ve spent almost every night together, but we never go out,” You answer timidly.

“Oh,” He responds, “I didn’t think you’d want that.”

Touche, you realize how your ideal future has flipped an almost complete 180. He would be right, if you were still yourself from months ago. He changed you, and that wasn’t something you’d like to admit.

“Do you want that?” You ask him, sensing uncertainty in his face and tone.

“I’ve thought about it, but I seriously didn’t think you did,” He responds as you brush a stray piece of hair out of his eyes. He looks you in the face, noticing how your lips curled into a slight frown, and how even with the moonlight reflecting on your face, your eyes seemed a bit dimmer than usual.

“I’ll tell you what,” He props himself up on the bed with his arm, “I have to work tonight, but tomorrow, I’ll take you out to the city. Like a real date.”

Your heart speeds up at his words. If you were to talk to the old you about this, she definitely would’ve bitch slapped you.

“Okay,” You take your hand off of his face, instead sitting up with him.

It was his turn to put a hand on your face and cup your cheek, as he uses his other arm to snake around your back and pull you over him. Your legs straddle over his, as he pulls you down with both of his hands and begins to pepper your face with kisses.

“I can’t wake you up too much,” He whispers against your lips, “You could still get a few hours of sleep.”

You kiss him back, a classic trick to shut him up. You continue, your hands finding themselves on his chest and in his hair, and you just bask in his short-lived presence. Though now, his presence in the future may not be so short-lived.

He turns you over on your back, before pulling away whilst still towering above you.

“I have to get ready to leave,” He says, leaving yet another kiss on your lips.

You don a fake pout and declare sarcastically, “Oh no.”

By now he’s off of your bed and quickly putting his sweater back on as he playfully nudges you in response to your sarcasm. By the time he’s fully dressed, you’re back to being all snug in your bed. He sits on the edge of the bed to put his shoes on, his spare hand caressing up and down your waist.

“Get some extra sleep, alright?” He turns and kisses you one last time before leaving your apartment. You can hear his steps move down the stairwell and the bakery door open and shut. This time, you have only good feelings in your gut, only good things filling your mind. And that is enough to lull you back to sleep.

⋆｡°✩a/n: happy valentine's day!!!! I plan to get the next chapter (my personal favorite) out this weekend! thank y'all so much for reading and interacting with my works so far! It means the world <3333

⋆｡°✩tag list: @inlovewithlondonn @zamorazz @ay4tou @kur0melon @boomie-123 @esthelily @i-simp-for-giyuu @itsflowerdomethings @whatamidoing89

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zer05trange · 3 months

Text

Roaring Sea

II. Sharlotka

⋆｡°✩ (childe x fem!reader)✩°｡⋆

⋆｡°✩ premise: Tartaglia comes over to learn how to make apple cake. But is that really why he's in your bakery?

⋆｡°✩wc: 2.5k

⋆｡°✩warnings: fluff

⋆｡°✩ series masterlist

The dreaded moment had come. The day that you told Tartaglia you’d teach him how to make your apple cake, to get him to leave you be just two days ago.

Though really, you concluded that he wasn’t necessarily a nuisance. You may or may not have realized you have the tiniest, little, minuscule crush on the guy. The night before, you could feel how hot your face was once Tartaglia left the shop, and how you were ever-so-slightly flustered the rest of the shift.

It was nothing, you tried to convince yourself. All that happened was that you’ve seen him twice, he has some bizarre interest in you, and he’s just a pretty boy. Archons, you feel like a middle schooler, saying you kind of “like-liked” him, but you wouldn’t even go that far.

The first stage is denial.

You took some extra time to prepare during your morning routine, even donning a nicer outfit than usual. It's not that you look bad most days, you just decided to put in more effort. Even Ivan commented how nice you look you felt yourself getting sick.

This isn't you! You're business and success-oriented, wanting to be the strong and independent woman that you grew up reading stories of, like the one that ruled your nation. But, even the Tsaritsa has her harbingers.

You continue to stay in the mindset that this wasn’t going to be anything serious, you barely even know the guy so it’s not like this is going to become an actual thing. It goes against what you want.

What you’re pretty sure you want.

It’s 6:50, 10 minutes until closing time, and you take one final look at yourself before rushing downstairs to your bakery.

“Ivan!” You yell as you get to the first floor, “Do not turn anything off, I’m making some stuff after closing.”

He stares at you, wide-eyed, as he just shut off the oven for the day, “Sorry.”

“It's fine, just take all the tips and scram,” You say jokingly.

“What are you up to?” He asks, his eyebrows furrowed, “Are you expecting someone?”

“You’re getting nosey,” You remark as you put your apron on, “But, yes.”

You say the latter phrase more deadpan than the other, and that sets Ivan off, apparently.

“If this person gives you any trouble, just know I can wield a frying pan better than the Captain can wield a sword,” He exclaims in a jokingly prideful, yet brotherly tone.

His bold statement shocks you, “I’m pretty sure you could get put on a watchlist for saying that... but thanks.”

You shoo him out before 7, giving you a few minutes to yourself before anyone else was going to be around. You gather the needed ingredients and set out all your tools so you don’t have to fish them out as you go, and to keep your mind off of what disaster may ensue.

The knot in your stomach is too big to ignore now, and you want to hit yourself with how childish you were being. This isn’t you, you have to be possessed or something, you don’t

“Well, Ms. Y/N, you look nice,” You jerk your head up at the sudden voice.

You look ahead to see Tartaglia, the anxious knot in your stomach growing bigger by the millisecond. He isn’t in his usual get-up, but a grey button-up covered by an oxblood-colored scarf and black pants. His hair is slightly tousled, and his eyes appear brighter than usual. He’s so damn handsome, and this time you can’t just blame it on your bakery’s lights, not with your new-found revelation on this little crush you have.

“Hi,” you spit out as a result of your brain short-circuiting as it ran out of witty remarks.

He makes his way closer to you, this time instead of standing across from you, he comes around to where you are.

“So this is your domain of expertise, where you hone and master your craft,” He says, sparking a dismayed look on your face, unimpressed at his phraseology.

“Yes. Now, first, I want you to dice these apples,” You brush off his odd statement and hand him three red apples from your baking counter, “Then, you need to integrate the apples with this cinnamon mixture.”

“We are getting right to work, aren’t we?” He says as he takes the apples, “It’s like you want me out here as fast as possible, hmm.”

You chuckle as you get him a cutting knife, “You catch on really quickly.”

He laughs back at that, and your cheeks heat up further at his laugh.

“I’m going to mix all the powder now. Flour, baking powder, the good stuff,” You say as you move your ingredients closer to his working space.

You begin to tell him what you’re all pouring into separate bowls, meanwhile explaining to him exactly what you’re doing.

“So now, you are going to manually beat these eggs for a few minutes,” You speak up as you hand him a whisk. He gladly takes it and begins working, which shocks you. Most people would be reluctant to mix something for 7 minutes straight, but he was oddly compliant. Odd, or, you just can’t take the hint.

“You must have strong arms to be doing this for a living,” He remarks with a chuckle as he whisks the contents of the bowl efficiently.

“I do,” You say as you flex your biceps and forearms, half-joking.

You observe his actions, noticing that even through his shirt, you can see his arm muscles flex with each stir he makes. You suppose a toy maker could have built that much mass in their profession, but you’re too hypnotized focused on his actions to think much of it.

“Done! What do I do next?” You look up at his face, which dons a smile as he hands you the bowl, which was mixed well. And somehow, his cheek had a smidgen of flour on it.

“You uhm have flour on your face,” You say as you point toward his left cheek, wondering how it could’ve possibly gotten there. He begins rubbing his hand on his face, but seems to be missing the small part of flour on him.

“Did I get it?” You shake your head in disappointment. “Can you just get it for me?” He asks, causing you to sigh exasperatedly. You grab his face to pull it down with one hand, and you softly brush off the flour on his cheek.

While you're focused on his cheek, he is brazenly looking down at your face with a smile, almost waiting for you to look back at him. But as soon as you got your hand off his face, you went back to working on the cake.

“Right, So next we’re going to lay a layer of the batter down, then a layer of the apples, and repeat,” You bring the cake pan in front of you, “So you pour yours then I’ll put mine on top of it.”

He begins to pour a thin layer of the batter, and you then put a layer of apples on top of it. The process repeats for a while in a focused silence, and before you know it, you’ve placed your final layer.

“Do you want the honor of putting this in the oven?” You turn to him with the pan in your hand.

“Absolutely,” He takes the pan from you with a smile, and proceeds to place the pan in the oven. You turn around to begin cleaning up the space when you hear a hiss coming from Tartaglia.

“Are you okay?” You ask with an undisguised worriment in your voice, quickly turning around to look at him.

“I must’ve burnt my hand on the oven rack,” He brushes off with a chuckle.

“You didn’t use the mitt? The oven mitt right next to you?” You scold him, not hiding your concern.

You close the door to the oven and start a timer for 60 minutes, then rush over to the sink. You wet a nearby washcloth and bring it to him. You hold it on his burn, firm yet gentle, with a disappointed look on your face.

“Idiot,” You murmur, “You need to be more careful.”

He chuckles while looking at you while tending to him. You don’t find anything laughable about his recklessness, so you look up at him to express your disagreement with his mood.

As you dab down on his hand, you notice how he has two scars on his right hand alone. One sprawls across the back of his palm, and is lengthy, yet skinny. The other is so long that it disappears into his long-sleeve shirt, yet is thick in width. You don’t know him well enough to ask about it, but it does bother you how much care, or lack thereof, he put toward himself.

“Now we wait 60 minutes for it to bake,” You speak up, still focused on the burn spot on his hand. You take the washcloth off after a while, and go toward the main area of the bakery toward the stools in front of a counter, where you take a seat, “Are you going to stand for an entire hour?”

He follows you and plops down on the stool to the right of you, staring ahead at the wall.

“Who’s that? Is that your boyfriend?” He sings in a jokingly nosey tone.

“No, that’s not my boyfriend,” You scoff, “ That’s my friend from Inazuma. He taught me a few Inazuman recipes.”

“Ah,” He sounds almost satisfied with the answer you gave him.

“You’re pretty good at some of the techniques,” You look at him through the sides of your eyes, “Do you bake often?”

“I like to help around at home,” He answers, “My skills are nowhere near yours, and that's no small feat.”

“Thanks,” You respond sarcastically at his brag.

“What’s your favorite thing you make?” He asks, which actually causes you to think.

“To make or to eat?” You look at him.

“Both,” He says, with his eyes not leaving your face and form.

“To make, probably just plain cake, it’s not difficult and many customers enjoy it,” You gaze back at the oven, “I don’t know what’s my favorite to eat, I prefer to eat what others make for me.”

Tartaglia beams up at you, “Next time I’ll bring my favorite for you, my mother makes it so perfectly.”

“Next time? You’re bold,” You respond with a laugh as he still looks at you in adoration.

You cut the small talk and replace it with silence, as much silence as Tartaglia would allow, and fiddle with a decorative fake glaze lily in front of you. He just taps his finger on the counter top, almost impatiently.

You suddenly stand and make your way to the oven. You take a toothpick and check how baked the cake was, and you must’ve wasted a substantial amount of time, because the cake is almost completely cooked. You, unlike someone else you know, put on your oven mitt and set it down on the counter to cool.

You turn around to tell Tartaglia, but he’s already right behind you. A gasp of shock lets out, considering how stealthily he must’ve gotten right behind you.

“You are so "

“You’re so pretty.”

That got you to shut up. He smiles at how stiff you got from his sudden words as if that wasn’t a completely normal response to what he just said. And the way he said it so endearingly, without a hint of his usual teasing tone, sent a heat wave throughout your entire body. But, like everything else, you shut it down for your protection.

“If that’s your way of taking this cake home, you already have it. Share it with Teucer, and Tonya, and "

“No, Y/N, that’s my way of telling you that you’re the most beautiful woman in Snezhnaya. Or all of Tevyat, for that matter,” He responds with a serious, and slightly frustrated, tone.

“What?” Your voice becomes smaller, almost timid, at his sudden designation.

“You’re not serious, are you?” He asks, then pauses for a moment, “Y/N, why am I here tonight?”

“You wanted to learn how to make a cake,” You respond.

“You are so difficult, Лисичка, it was never about the damn apple cake!” He cries. By then, the two of you were just an inch away from each other, your exchange of exclamations causing you to get closer and closer. Your eyes narrow at his, physically questioning his statement.

“ just need to ” He cuts off his statement by placing his hands on your face and bringing it closer to his, before connecting his lips to yours.

Oh.

You return the favor though, and kiss him back. While still pressed together, he takes one of his hands and places it on your back, pushing you even closer to his body. He keeps kissing you, and you keep reciprocating, and that exchange continues. It continues while he walks forward, takes you with him, and presses you up against the closed oven.

He takes his hand out from your back and returns it to your face, caressing your soft cheek with his thumb. Your hand finds itself on the back of Tartaglia’s head, holding onto his thick hair as the other finds itself braced on his chest.

If you weren’t so lost in the moment, you would’ve freaked out at how toned his abdomen felt through his shirt, but you were too gone to focus on that detail. You let go for a moment, trying to get a breath of air.

He pulls away as well, not for long, and huffs out a breath of air as if he had won some sort of battle. You suppose he had, you didn’t play easy until you let him kiss you so abruptly, but you didn’t care right now. He begins peppering your face completely, from your cheeks to your nose to your forehead, before finding your lips once again and pressing his to yours yet again. You let out a quaint whimper, which he chuckles at through his mouth before you begin to guide him down a small hallway.

To hell with the plans you have. Fuck the loneliness and the walls you’ve built around you for the sake of business. This can’t hurt you too badly.

“Do you want to go upstairs?” You ask out of breath. He nods his head like an excited child, which you smirk at before grabbing his wrist and running upstairs hand in hand.

The cake could wait to be iced in the morning.

⋆｡°✩a/n: can you tell I hate writing slow burn >:))) I just cannot keep them apart!! Thank y’all for reading :) also! I finally learned how to work my inbox so if you have any comments, ideas, or just wanna chat, please feel free!

⋆｡°✩tag list: @inlovewithlondonn @zamorazz @ay4tou @kur0melon @boomie-123 @esthelily @i-simp-for-giyuu @itsflowerdomethings

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zer05trange · 3 months

Text

Roaring Sea

I. Hermes

⋆｡°✩ (childe x fem!reader)✩°｡⋆

⋆｡°✩ chapter summary: After an inexplicable rush, your second favorite customer comes in for the second day in a row.

⋆｡°✩wc: 1.6k

⋆｡°✩content warnings: none

⋆｡°✩ series masterlist (there is a prologue before this part!!)

Your day began as most did. After waking and freshening up, you begin baking bright and early for the weekday ahead of you. For a relatively new business, you have a decent amount of customers each day, and with little to no negative feedback. It feels nice, especially since starting a business in the service industry was known to be very difficult.

However, today, you are slammed.

Everyone and their mother is visiting your bakery, the small building space was packed for what seemed like hours. You had to get your one employee, Ivan, in early to help out, because this sort of rush was not something you could tackle alone. People were lined up at the back of the door, and each booth and table were full. And when a table isn’t occupied, it's being cleaned for the next customer to take.

The room surrounds itself with a bright and warm ambiance with many conversations filling the air, and it's enjoyable, though it may be overwhelming as all hell. Ultimately, watching people enjoy your food and your space never fails to cap your heart with fulfillment, regardless of how stress-inducing it could get.

The oddest part of the rush is that you're having loads of Fatui agents visit your shop. You've served your fair share of Fatui before, but never at this caliber. Usually, they were aloof and curt. But today, you could almost say they were polite to you, most even tipped a few extra mora with their order. You were mulling over the phenomenon as the fifth pyro agent of the morning walked up to your counter.

“What can I get for you?” You smile up at a agent with his hood and mask covering his face.

“I need a slice of praga cake. Oh and a slice of apple cake, both to go?” He asks, his voice almost... timid.

“Of course, is that all you want?” You ask as you pack up his two slices of cake.

“No,” He exchanges his money for your goods, “Thank you ma’am.”

Once placing a generous tip on your counter, he briskly leaves the shop. That, much like many other interactions that day, left you in a stunned state. Not only had a Fatui agent called you ‘ma’am’ and left a large tip, but he seemed more nervous than their usual stoic demeanor.

After a while, the rush slowed, with fewer Fatui agents making their stay in your bakery. Must be time to do shady government business in the Tsaritsa’s name, you think. You begin cleaning up the dining area, picking up plates and glasses, as well as sweeping up excess crumbs on the ground.

“Ivan, could you please ice that cake?” You ask your employee as you return behind the counter, “I’ll let you off early when you’re done.”

“Yes ma’am,” The boy responds attentively as he turns around toward the baking counter. You observe him for a moment, observing how his talent surrounding baking has improved since he began working for you. Ivan came in begging for a job just a few short months ago as a way to make an extra buck during the weekend, and you remember not necessarily needing an extra hand at the bakery. But the teenage boy seemed like he needed the funds, promised to work hard, and hasn't let you down.

It's days like these where find that nothing else brings you more peace than crafting for others, serving them something that you are proud of and that they love almost as much as you do. The tranquility that you found within your bakery was like no other, and besides the stress that came with the rush, you were truly grateful for it.

What you couldn’t pinpoint was how the rush started. You ponder over how it could be possible, you didn’t boost your advertising recently, and it wasn’t a holiday nor was it a weekend. Though thankful, you can’t get over your confusion.

Hours passed by, Ivan finished his shift a while ago, so you were left alone to fend for yourself. By now, the rush had long passed and you only had a few customers coming in at a time, so you weren’t too concerned about working alone. You're finishing refilling the shelves when you hear the doorbell of your bakery, signifying someone entering your shop.

You look up before greeting the customer, only to be met with the same unforgettably cold eyes that you served last night.

“Good afternoon, Mr. Tartaglia,” You quickly flash a smile before getting back to work placing pastries into the display case.

“Mister? Do I seem that old to you?” He asks, a friendly smile back on his lips.

“No, I’m just being formal with my customer,” You push yourself up to meet his eyes.

“Is that all I am to you? A customer?” He puts a hand over his heart and displays some sort of mocking tone, “ I thought I made a better impression than that, Ms. Y/N.”

You lean in over the counter to the man, close enough to be able to whisper, “Do you talk to everyone like that?”

Tartaglia swallows, stiffening up ever so slightly.

“No, just the ones who make Snezhnaya’s best apple cake,” He answers back, just as quiet as you were.

You scoff yet again as you push away from him, “Is this your way of getting food from me? Like the little stunt you pulled last night?”

Before you can humor him any longer, you find yourself cutting a slice of cake for him, and ignoring his existence otherwise.

“Speaking of, I have something else for you,” You say before taking off upstairs. His face molds into one of confusion, holding a plate of warm cake while you disappear.

You come back down a few moments later, and his eyes fall on the pouch of mora he gave you. Before he can object, you place the pouch into his free hand and return back to the counter.

“Did you not like my peace offering, Y/N?” He asks, and the way his name rolls off your tongue makes you feel a little flushed.

“Peace offering?” You cross your arms and snap back at the man.

“You’re snarky, лисичка. I thought a little tip may extinguish your unbridled hatred for me, though it seems I’ve failed,” He says back, taking a seat facing the counter. You giggle at his last statement, his dramatization of your feelings pulls a chuckle out of you.

“Giving me nicknames already? After like… 24 hours?” You ask him, “You’ve got stones.”

It was his turn to laugh before taking a forkful of cake to his mouth, and then making an ‘mm’ sound out of satisfaction. He continues scarfing down his dessert, though his eyes keep watch on you. Specifically, where your vision sat on your hip.

“Do you put that to use?” He asks, his hand pointing to your vision.

“Sometimes,” You brush off the question, “I take commissions occasionally, usually when traveling.”

He smirks at that, and you don’t miss it.

“Do you use yours?” You ask back and watch him nod in pride, you hum at his nonverbal response, “We should spar sometime, though I’d probably smoke you.”

You notice how his demeanor perks up even more, his sudden excitable emotion is slightly scary. His happiness in response to your offer was frightening, to say the least.

He already carries an almost mischievous aura with him, and you begin to think that play-fighting with him would be a mistake on your part. Or it could have come off as flirting to him, which you definitely do not want to take any part in.

“I have to get going,” Tartaglia says as he begins to stand, “Tonya wanted me to hang out with her for a bit tonight.”

He makes his way toward the front counter, closer to you.

“Oh no!” You respond in a dryly sarcastic tone, “What a shame.”

He scoffs at you as he places his elbow on the counter, with his head in his hand. He looks up at you with an over-exaggerated frown and a puppy-dog demeanor. “Sooo…” He taps his other hand on the counter, “When are you going to teach me how to make that cake?”

You cock an eyebrow at him with a hand on your hip, not having it with him, “I’m not giving you my recipe for free.”

You turn away to begin cleaning your miniature oven, and expect him to leave. Yet you don’t hear any sort of movement behind you. You quickly turn back around with an exasperated sigh and look straight at the man, who’s position didn’t change.

“I’m not leaving,” He says in a sing song tone.

“Let me think," You snap back.

Teaching him how to bake something would have to be after the bakery closes. So it would just be the two of you. And he’d be so annoyingly him that you’d probably have to recharge your social battery for the next three days following that. Also, you don’t want your kitchen secrets unveiled to anyone. And, ultimately, you’re smart enough to know that this whole thing has nothing to do with an apple cake. But, it would get him to stop pestering you at the moment.

You look up from the desert case and straight into his cold, cerulean eyes, “I'm free two nights from now.”

You see the edge of Tartaglia’s faux frown sprout up into a small smile as he stands up with his hands held onto the edge of the counter. He remains hunched down enough to where his face is in line with yours. And as if he was accepting a challenge, he begins to part ways with you for the day.

“I’ll see you then.”

⋆｡°✩translation: Лисичка- it’s a term like “fox” or “little-fox”

⋆｡°✩a/n: hiiiii!!! I want to get the next chapter out soon, and i hope y'all enjoy this one! i hope you are all doing well <333 thank you for reading

⋆｡°✩tag list: @inlovewithlondonn @zamorazz @ay4tou @kur0melon @boomie-123

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zer05trange · 3 months

Note

The fic you did like 2 days ago.

Pls tell me there will be a Part 2

Hello!

There will definitely be a part two, and i plan to post it tomorrow night! it's a multi-chapter fic and i hope to post around 6 to 8 chapters depending on what i add to it :)))))

zero

0 notes

zer05trange · 3 months

Text

Roaring Sea Masterlist

⋆｡°✩ (childe x fem!reader)✩°｡⋆

⋆｡°✩ premise: When Ajax stumbles across a humble bakery with his brother, he has no idea the new fight he'll have to win. Because though the Fatui Harbinger explored the waters of many nations and many different conflicts, he knew nothing about the dangerous sea of relationships.

⋆｡°✩warnings: slightly suggestive but no smut, angst, canon-typical violence, graphic violence, slight gore (blood), mentions of sickness and getting sick

000. Prologue

I. Hermes

II. Sharlotka

III. Borscht

IV. Good Things

V. дом

VII. On Ice

VIII. Blue Velvet Pouch

⋆｡°✩ complete !! ✩°｡⋆

102 notes · View notes

zer05trange · 3 months

Text

Roaring Sea

000. Prologue

⋆｡°✩ (childe x fem!reader)✩°｡⋆

⋆｡°✩wc: 2.1k

⋆｡°✩content warnings: none for the prologue!

The premature coolness of Snezhnayan autumn is nothing to Ajax and his brother. It’s comforting, in fact. It reminds him of an older, easier time when his soul wasn't tainted by the horrors of this world. Often, Ajax thinks of what it would be like to be normal, to have a normal social life.

If his work could possibly permit it, he would've loved to meet someone with whom he could share his heart. But thanks to his plummet into the abyss, and the years he's worked for the Fatui, he doesn't have a heart that could be given to someone.

The part of his heart that hasn’t faltered is for the love of his family. And that’s why on a more lax week of work, he finds himself walking down a city street with Teucer by his side, glancing at different shops and places that interest his little brother. Their destination was one shop that his brother kept talking about, one that he needed his big brother to try out.

“Big brother! We have to go,” Ajax remembers his brother exclaiming just a few hours earlier. The young boy continued to ramble about a bakery he often frequented, with a kind, yet strong-willed owner that would never fail to make time to converse with his little brother.

Almost the entire stroll to the destination, Teucer spoke of when the owner; the time she slipped Teucer extra pastries free of charge for his other siblings, showing him how to make his favorite items on the menu, or never letting him venture out into the cold without some sort of hot drink to keep him company.

“This one’s it!” He hears Teucer pipe up, stopping in front of the row of shops. It was two stories, fitting with the rest of the line of stores. It was cute, and shockingly modern looking on the outside. He can see the soft illumination on the inside, with a sufficient amount of booths and tables for its size. Teucer goes running into the shop, leaving Ajax to catch up to his little brother.

By the time he enters the shop, Teucer is already chatting away with someone behind the counter, peering up at the woman who’s smiling down at him.

“ if you give me a few minutes, your favorite is just about done baking, and it’ll be nice and hot for you, all right?” He hears her say.

Oh, her voice is much younger and brighter than he imagined it would be. He looks up at her, and she was not what he thought she’d look like as well. Young, sophisticated, and positively gorgeous . He straightens up his posture a bit before walking toward the counter.

“Good evening,” She says, “You look a little like someone I know.”

“Y/N, that’s my big brother! The one that got me that toy I showed you a few days ago!” Teucer responds, jumping up and down with his hands on the counter.

Y/N. Fitting, Ajax thinks.

“I have heard about you. The toy maker, yes?” You turn to him and he nods, “I’m Y/N.”

“I’m Tartaglia,” He says in return, “You have a lovely bakery, and the food here looks delicious!”

You laugh, and Tartaglia feels his smile widen ever so slightly as his chest tightens up. He thinks he may be dying.

“Thank you, pick whatever you’d like, please,” You say back to him.

Though you were expecting Teucer to come into your bakery, since he hadn’t been in a few days, you were not expecting to see his striking, tall, and slightly intimidating brother.

This Tartaglia was an odd one. From what you’ve heard from him he seemed to be a caring, loving, and attentive brother. But you struggled to find a spark in his eyes, and that sent a chill down your spine.

He’s donning an oxblood colored long sleeve button up and white pants, and you don’t fail to miss the hydro vision on his waistband either. He has the same deep gingered hair, blue eyes, and freckles that his brother has. However, he’s very tall and muscular, with a sharp facial structure adorned with a pretty-boy face. You’d make a bet that he’s nothing but trouble.

His overall energy is intense, ominous, and foreboding. But he's friendly to you, at least, and his body language was a little more than friendly, but you shrug it off. It’s not every day that a handsome customer takes an interest in you.

The two brothers found their seats a few minutes ago, so you go back to preparing other baked goods and taking care of the few customers who are also in your store. However, you don’t fail to miss the glances Tartaglia keeps making at you.

He looked awfully familiar, and not just because he was the brother of your most loyal customer, but you couldn’t exactly pinpoint why he was so recognizable. You hear Teucer call your name and you perk your head up to see the little boy calling you over. No one was ordering, so you come from the confines of your counter and over to their booth. Walking over to their area, you see Tartaglia’s eyes go straight from your face, to your hip. You glance down for a moment, wondering what in Tevyat he could be looking at.

Ah, you think, as your own eyes find the soft glow of your vision. But you shrug that off, you already saw his vision that resides on his waist.

“Yes, Teucer?” You say as you look down at the younger boy.

“Did you put something new in your frosting?” He asks, with his eyebrow cocked up.

“I did, actually. I added more sugar as an experiment. Do you like it?” You respond, stunned at how he would’ve figured that out, especially because it was such a miniscule amount of sugar.

“I really do,” He says as he takes another forkful into his mouth.

“Ms. Y/N,” you hear the other brother, “Are those moon pies?” He points to your display case.

“They are. I try to have a little something from each of the nations, it’s a good source for variety,” You respond as you look back at your assortments of goods, most of which were taken by earlier customers.

“And you make all of those?” He asks. You nod your head, letting out a quaint ‘mhm’ with a proud look on your face.

“Well what I’ve had is delicious so far, I need to come back to you and try everything!” He exclaims, beaming up at you with a wide smile and a wink.

You chuckle awkwardly before a couple walks into your store, unknowingly becoming your saving grace. You rush behind the counter, feeling his eyes burning into your back as you walk away from him. As you serve the two customers their order, you notice how the two were looking at each other lovingly and how the man pulled out the chair just for the woman to sit down. The way the two treated each other pulled at your heartstrings, though a normal reaction when one witnessed romance, there was a tinge of jealousy behind the feeling as well.

Sure, you thought about entering the terrifying world of relationships, but you're way too focused on your blossoming business to have yet another stressor on you. But, more often than you’d like, you imagine what it would be like for someone to sweep you off of your feet, to spend time with, and battle the cold of the nation by being bundled up together. You always reason with your thoughts, because it is simply not the wisest thing to do, no matter how bitter the lovey-dovey couples make you.

You bring yourself back to the present, the couple already left, as have many other customers. It’s getting later in the evening, and you look over at the remaining two customers that reside in their booth. A small smile makes its way to your face when you see how engaged Tartaglia is in his brother’s rambling. It wasn’t often that you saw siblings this close, even in a nation where family is treasured.

The two look over at you as you finish cleaning up for the night, their mugs empty and their saucers clear, except for a few crumbs. You call them over to your display case, and they follow suit.

“Pick whatever you’d like,” You sternly demand of them, “They either go to me or my dog, so take however much you want. Maybe some for your other siblings?”

Teucer’s eyes brighten as he frantically starts studying the case, pointing out a multitude of sweets before you can even reach for the tongs. The entire time, Tartaglia switches his eyes from his brother to you, both in admiration.

You can feel his intimidating gaze and although he's never spoken to you until today, he's taken a liking to you. His energy toward you has been… interesting, to say the least, in the few hours you've known him. But surely it’s completely harmless, and you doubt that any of his weirdly flirty intentions were something he was going to take seriously.

So why not just let it happen?

“It’s getting dark, Teucer. let's get on our way so Ms. Y/N can get home,” Tartaglia says while his eyes stay focused on your face, a sly smile pulled on his lips.

“Oh it’s no big deal, my house isn’t too far away,” You point to above the shop, where you reside upstairs, “I’m much more worried about you two getting home before you freeze.”

Tartaglia laughs at that, causing you to look to the side awkwardly. Did you say something that hilarious? You brush it off and hand the two their large bag of assortments.

“Get home safe, you two,” you say as the two prepare to leave the bakery, “I can’t have my favorite customer and his older brother frozen to death!”

As they leave, Tartaglia turns around and waves to you with a wink, making you scoff and roll your eyes as you walk toward the door as well. You lock it behind you, and switch the OPEN sign to CLOSED. You watch the two walk off, Teucer still chattering on and on as they disappear down the city.

Walking over to their booth to clean it up, a velvety blue bag catches your eye. It must be a mora pouch, next to a napkin with wording on it.

You have to teach me how you make such an excellent apple cake! I’ll be back soon, Лапушка.

P.S. Thank you for treating Teucer the way you do.

—Tartaglia ;)

You scoff and roll your eyes, yet again, this time without him there to see your reaction. What is this guy’s deal? You open the pouch and almost drop it, shocked at what is inside. It has to be thousands of mora, too much to be considered a tip. If this is how he’s trying to harmlessly flirt with you, it’s not working too well. Instead, it freaks you out as to what to do with it. A customer shouldn’t be tipping that much, you think, so you plan on returning it whenever he comes next as he promised.

You eventually finish cleaning up and rush upstairs to your apartment, much like most nights. But tonight, your cheeks feel more heat in them than usual.

As Ajax walks his brother home, his mind fills with more emotion than he's felt in a long time. The fact that you could bring out a little crush within him stunned him. In all his travels, even his life before his corruption, he never felt anything romantic for anyone.

Why was he yearning to see more of you, though he just met you? Was it the way you took such care for his brother, your kind attitude, though you were slightly austere to his dumb advances? Was it the vision, the sigil that proves you’re a warrior? Or was it your beautiful eyes, your skin, your hair, your lips, your—

No. A Fatui Harbinger should not become weak in the knees for one person. One person he just met an hour ago? Absolutely not. His job called for his time, his body, and his everything. And he doesn’t have the time to become so attached to anyone.

Though maybe, a microscopic part of his mind was scared. Scared of having feelings for anyone.

Because though the Fatui Harbinger explored the waters of many nations and many different conflicts, he knew nothing about the roaring sea of relationships.

⋆｡°✩translation: Лапушка— sweetheart, darling

⋆｡°✩a/n: thank you so much for reading! this work is already fully--written so updates should be every few days or weekly!

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