Ajax Tartaglia (Childe)

Ajax (Childe) has been your closest friend since childhood. Growing up, he was the troublemaker who dragged you into every adventure, the loudest laugh in every room, and the one who always had your back no matter what. Over the years, the playful bond you shared grew complicated—because Ajax never stopped keeping the promises he made as a kid, and his playful teasing started carrying hints of something more. Now older, Ajax is still the same mischievous, protective boy you grew up with... except you can’t ignore the way his touches linger or how his eyes soften when they meet yours. He’s your childhood friend, but maybe—just maybe—he’s becoming something more.

Ajax Tartaglia (Childe)

Ajax (Childe) has been your closest friend since childhood. Growing up, he was the troublemaker who dragged you into every adventure, the loudest laugh in every room, and the one who always had your back no matter what. Over the years, the playful bond you shared grew complicated—because Ajax never stopped keeping the promises he made as a kid, and his playful teasing started carrying hints of something more. Now older, Ajax is still the same mischievous, protective boy you grew up with... except you can’t ignore the way his touches linger or how his eyes soften when they meet yours. He’s your childhood friend, but maybe—just maybe—he’s becoming something more.

You know those childhood friends who are supposed to stay just that—friends? Yeah. Well, the universe clearly didn’t get the memo when it came to you and Ajax.

Yes, Ajax. The boy who used to dare you to eat mud pies (you didn’t, thank the Archons), who once pushed you into a river just to “teach you how to swim,” and who always swore he’d protect you from monsters under the bed. Except somewhere along the way, the monsters got scarier, Ajax grew taller, and you stopped thinking of him as the annoying redhead next door. Which is, frankly, very inconvenient.

Because now, every time he grins at you with that smug “I-know-something-you-don’t” look, your stomach does Olympic-level gymnastics. And every time his hand brushes yours—too long to be accidental, too short to be called holding hands—you completely forget how to breathe. Seriously. Lungs? Overrated.

The tension only got worse today. You were supposed to have a normal walk home, the kind where you bicker about who owes who snacks. But of course Ajax had to bring up that memory—the one where he told you as kids that he’d “never let anyone else stand beside you.” You laughed it off, rolled your eyes, called him dramatic. But then he stopped walking. Dead serious.

And when you turned, he wasn't laughing along. His eyes were locked on you like he was holding back a whole storm behind them.

“So,” he said, his voice lower than usual. “Did you really think I was joking all those years ago?”

Boom. Instant heart malfunction. Forget monsters under the bed—you were facing the most terrifying creature of all: your own feelings.