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prettyboykatsuki · 1 year ago

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— ❈ YOU'RE SO PRETTY, BABY.

▸ prompt ; companions and their responses to being called pretty boy / pretty girl.

▸ a/n ; bit of a generic post im sorry forreal. while i was originally just going to write this for astarion i had ideas for. all the other companions.

most of the characters have a reader w a specific class or background, all varied! also spoilers for gale, shadowheart, karlach, and lae'zel.

reader / tav is always gender neutral!

▸ wc ; about 4.5k, about 700+ words per companion.

ft. astarion, wyll, gale, shadowheart, karlach, lae'zel

no minthara or halsin bc i could not bring myself to write it. but maybe later if enough people ask lol.

❈ ASTARION ;

Astarion tries his very best to find your affection for him trite, even when he knows it doesn't feel that way. It's an instinct for him, one you'll simply have to make peace with you if you're really planning on tailing him to the end of the world.

Truth be told though, he likes your generally affectionate nature. He hasn't reached a point he can admit this so openly, but the comfortable and easy way you reach for him is nice. He likes how your hands seem to stretch for him, the way you cling to his spine when you sleep in his tent and the likes.

And while he is not stranger to hypocrisy, he thinks it'd be amiss to try and bar you from calling him any pet names when he calls you so many. He's got quite a few handy. Darling is a favorite, followed by dear, and sometimes my love when he can muster up the courage to mean it instead of saying it like he's trying to perform.

You like to call Astarion by his name though, most often. He isn't exactly sure why you're so fond of it, and truthfully he's done little to consider his own name. You say it wonderfully though, tasteful and loving and soft.

Sometimes you gasp it in offense or horror or shock, other times in pleasure. Sometimes you whimper it in your sleep, groping around until your hands fist in the material of his shirt and you drag him back to you.

In any case, he's used to hearing his name. So hearing you utter the words pretty boy to him, he can't help but be a little shocked.

You're a little tipsy. A hard, arduous journey of fighting githyanki soldiers has taken a terrible toll on your normal inhibitions. You're quite flushed while you're drunk, and all the same sitting in his lap like you've not a care in the world.

Astarion doesn't mind holding you. In fact, he's thinking of all the terribly teasing things he can say to you come morning. So far, you've done nothing but mumble. It's a sudden movement, your hands clasped around his face.

"Feeling forward are we darling?" He says, like second nature. It's so reactionary it's banal, though he does have some enthusiasm since the flirtation is directed at you. Instead of your usual giggling, you stare at him with your lips parted.

"I suppose I am pretty boy," You reply, a completely foreign confidence in your voice that stops him dead in his tracks. Underneath the thick layer of flirtation is sincerity so unmistakable it almost proves to be too much "Could I ask you to keep me company?"

Astarion is, eternally grateful about the fact you don't get much more than that out of you. He spends the entire night thinking about it. You're certainly not the first to call him pretty, and that particular phrasing has been thrown to him more than once.

Yet it rings a little differently. The way you said it so tenderly, your hands stroking the nape of his neck and cupping his face. Well, it's not nothing. He can't decide if he hates it or not until the next morning comes.

Your eyes flutter open as light pours through the open part of his tent. You reach over to him with a deep sigh, engaging in some quiet morning affection when you repeat yesterdays sentiment.

"Good morning, my very pretty boy," You say - and this time Astarion is sure whatever he is feeling he has not ever felt previously "Sorry for the antics last night."

"So your memory hasn't failed you. Good to know." Astarion says back. You laugh lightly. "Your charming little pet name worried me quite a bit."

"Nothing to worry about my love." You say, warm and nuzzling into his neck likely to cool yourself from over-heating "I really do find you very pretty."

He can't help the feeling that floods his sense. He likes it even though he feels a little clingy, but perhaps there's no need to admit that.

"Oh, really, darling? How sweet you are. Tell me again, then. Just for kicks this time."

❈ WYLL ;

it's a matter of getting used to it for Wyll.

For the first month of your adventuring together, pretty boy, had been a somewhat condescending substitute for his name. Among other ones, like daddy's boy and prince. None of the pet names held any real affection.

You liked getting under his skin, after all.

You didn't get on at first, not for a long while. You're a rogue, a ratty street urchin turned mercenary who'd spent your youth climbing through the soil and mud of the Lower City's underbelly. Your words verbatim, not his. At first, your resentment for him caught him off guard, especially because Wyll prefers to keep the peace and get along with everyone. But, he had a difficult time understanding you, even with his people skills

Eventually it clicked that your resentment was less towards him, and more towards what he represents. You're a Baldurian, but one abandoned by the city and it's people. What else could the Ravengards represent if not the future you never had a chance to look towards.

It was easier after that. And Wyll had promised to himself to observe you closer. In that, he found to like you a great deal.

He's fond of pet names in general, but more fond of you lately. At the beginning of your adventure, it was a little difficult to get accustomed to your... roughness. You lack delicacy, but you're not exactly silver tongued.

Yet, you're not as cruel as you make yourself out to be. Contrarily, while you've traveled together, Wyll bore witness to only gentleness. Nothing more. The words you spoke about only doing things for coin had been clearly disproved by your countless acts of charity. Especially gentle and kind to children, and especially unforgiving to the rich and unhelpful.

Once he got used to it, there was something kind of...sweet about it. To see you say one thing and do another had it's own novelty that Wyll grew fond of you.

It was the night of tiefling party that roused his feelings. That night, he'd watched you play with the tiefling children all night, teaching them tricks of the trade.

And you'd started falling for him, too, judging by the way your usual snark was nowhere to be found.

Especially vivid is the change in your tone when you call him the same way you did before.

"We'll take a short rest for you, pretty boy." Your voice murmurs, looking carefully over his wounds while place down your own weapons "Get your spells back. Organize our things in the mean time."

He gives you look, examining your own worry before his smile stretches into one of fondness. It doesn't bother him at all, not anymore. No, lately - it sounds rather fond, and each time Wyll hears it, it does something for ego.

"No need for the concern, though I am appreciative," He says, not bothering to mask the smug quality in his voice at your change. He delights in it a little, admittedly . "I'll be alright soon enough."

You don't seem to notice, too busy wiping your blade of fresh blood, metal shiny as moonlight. "And there's no need for your heroism, Blade of Frontiers. Have some discernment about time and place."

You look up at him with your brows furrowed, and Wyll can barely help himself. "Are you worried I'll lose what's left in my appearances? I'm just telling you there's no need to trouble yourself over it."

It takes you a while to register to his words, but when it finally does - your eyes blow wide. The look of embarrassment on your face is well worth it.

"I thought you hated when I called you that." You say coolly.

"It's not so bad," He says back tenderly, staring at you "At least not anymore."

You pout a little. Wyll fights some unspoken urge to kiss you. A little longer.

"I prefer when you're acting oblivious,"

"Sorry to disappoint."

He lets his head lay on the wall behind him - reaching a hand for yours instead, trying to rest up as promised. He sees you smiling from the corner of his eye and affirms it to himself. You squeeze, soft, but otherwise say nothing about it.

Yes, lately, nothing you say could get under his skin. Even when you so obviously try.

❈ GALE ;

Gale is always the poet, never the muse.

He thought highly of his relationship with Mystra, and in many ways still does. He loved her. This much is true. He can't say for any certainty if she had loved him just as much, or at all. He wasn't the first mortal, and would hardly be the last.

But he loved her, enough to write about her and wax poetic about all that he'd lost.

When Gale examines any of his past relationship, he realizes this is some kind of pattern. Gale is good at being loving, but he does not know for certain if any of them loved him back. Or if he was loved in the way he loves - if it was anything near close. Gale had thought, at one point, it was just matter of destiny. Gale is after all, a man who bleeds with all he has.

He can't blame anyone for loving him less than when he is categorically too much. He thought that way for a long time, destined himself to never find love again or beg for Mystra's forgiveness for some new found purpose.

When you came into his life, he hadn't been sure what would come of your relationship. Certainly a brain parasite would make camp a difficult place for romance, but the two of you managed against all odds. Among all the things that Gale finds astonishing about your relationship - it's your affection for him that catches him the most off-guard.

It's a little sad, he can admit. But it's true. When you speak to Gale, your voice is always soft. It's never demanding. Before, always, there had been some kind of expectation. Gale had to be a certain way, to pour himself into someone else for the sake of it being returned.He loved. Surely he loved.

But now, lately, you love him back. Overwhelmingly. The easiness of your love makes him feel a little... spoiled. Which is embarrassing, at the stage of life he's in. He finds the whole thing tips him over the edge. The heat creeping up his neck every time he remembers. Your hand brushing against the back of his neck, cupping his face so gently.

Gale, perhaps unsurprisingly, is fond of your various pet names. All of them sound good. Make him feel important and desired. You like to call him a bookworm, sometimes you call him baby (which he really likes much more than he is ever willing to admit), and other times you settle on saying my love.

Pretty boy is new. Pretty boy is different, and makes heat crawl up the back of Gale's neck like a smitten school boy.

It has a special effect on Gale.

In between classes, spoken with your hands cupping his face as he leans on his desk. The sunlight is pouring through the large paneled windows, casting a warmth on your expression. Gale is sat on his desk, making you eye-level.

"I'm glad you've come to see me," Gale says to you first, breaking a period of comfortable silence. You're a busy person, given all the heroics. Gale finds it troublesome, despite the fact you've moved with him to Waterdeep. Your reputation precedes you "It's been ages,"

"Of course I'd come to see you, pretty boy," You hum, thumb brushing under his cheek - carefully drawing a line "You're very healing to look at."

The effect is rather immediate. As soon as the words leave your lips, spoken to him so lovingly - he unlocks a part of himself he always seems to forget about. Forgets himself in a fundamental way, the flurry of heat and euphoric sensation of adoration washing over him like water.

He gives you a look, and you laugh - pressing your thumb to his lower lip as you lean in for a kiss. "Stop pouting, will you?"

"I'm doing nothing of the sort," He insists, kissing you despite him. You laugh into, warm and bubbly. For a minute, he remembers all he might've lost had he done what Mystra told him.

He's glad he's alive. To feel you.

"You very much are," You reply back, once you've managed to pull away from each other "Don't be so surprised. You've always been very pretty to me."

He blushes again, deeper, and closes his eyes.

❈ SHADOWHEART ;

You don't often communicate your feelings to Shadowheart through words.

You're something of a stoic. Of the few people in Shadowheart's past who remain by her side, many of them communicate about how surprised they are about your partnership. Shadowheart is known to be a little snarky, witty. She used to be very prickly, at the start of your adventure together - so everyone questions how you were able to win her heart.

Truthfully, Shadowheart didn't know what to make of your personality at first. There's a silence to you. Maybe she should expect this of paladin so loyal. A Paladin of Torm, the unswerving enemy of injustice and corruption. You've always been a devout person, putting action and justice over everything. She hated it at first, a natural response for a Sharran, she figures.

Once she'd left it all behind, she could no longer use it as an excuse.

Truth be told, Shadowheart had always liked that aspect of you. Your devotion spoke to something greater than your oath or even your god. You had simply believed in the world, and inadvertently in her. You saved her from herself, her parents from her fate, and then some.

Your devotion to her as a lover isn't something so different. She often thinks you would swear yourself to her if you could. For Shadowheart, your affection is akin to worship. Every morning, the animals are tended and the flower bed is damp. You wake her mother up without a start, remind her of where she is without making her feel ashamed. You're good to her father, talk to him of worldly politics at the dinner table.

She has no complaints to make about you. Your love for her is tangible, something she can reach out and touch with her fingers.

She's unused to hearing your affections, though. Unused to hearing the words.

You lay together in the darkness. You're alone tonight, the entire cabin empty. Her mother and father have gone together on an outing together, after you accompanied them into the city. You've finally returned, put the horses up in the stable, and have to come to her side.

Shadowheart likes to lay in your arms. She lets herself curl into your weight, inhales the scent of your skin - earthy and rich as you let your arm fold around her waist. She lays ontop of you today, her whole body on yours like a blanket.

She looks up at you, her her tied loosely. She can practically feel how glowy her own expression is as she examines you - sees her reflection in your irises.

You let your hand lay over her back, reaching up underneath her nightwear to lay touch her skin. She gives you a look - her smile small, sincere. Your own expression is tired from travel, but fond. You insisted on taking her parents instead of letting them go alone.

She loves you more than she cares to admit.

"You're staring." She comments blithely "See something you like?"

Normally you'd flush a little at this, silent as you kiss her forehead or cheek. This time though, you use your fingers to brush the stray hairs from her face and nod.

"Yes, pretty girl," You hum, nonchalantly. Sagely. "I really do,"

She's so caught off guard, she can't help but gape. She lifts herself slightly to stare at you in shock.

"I've never heard you talk like that. Not once while we've been together. I mean.. you've called me beautiful but," Shadowheart stumbles, a fluttery feeling in her stomach she'd rather ignore "But it's never like that,"

"I think it more often that I say it,"

"And you always think to call me that?"

"Like I said, often," You look over he carefully, before your lips pull into an easy smile "You're pretty to the point I want to tell you all the time,"

Shadowheart is scarcely embarrassed by anything. She's a practiced woman at this point in her life. It's almost juvenile the way the words effect her. It's you saying it that makes all the difference. The way you've said it that makes her squirm. She lets out a little puff of air, silent as you laugh.

"Pretty girl," You repeat, warm and gentle and laced with exhaustion "You're the most beautiful girl I've ever met."

Shadowheart tucks her face into your neck, voice as soft a murmur as the sound of her own heart rings in her ears.

"Don't make a habit of talking like that," She huffs "I already know, but I suppose it doesn't hurt to hear."

You smile brightly. "I'm glad,"

❈ KARLACH ;

Karlach adores you, utterly and completely.

She's a little caught off-guard by it. Just when she'd convinced herself she couldn't love you more, you surprise her all over again. She'd probably harbored some sort of affection for you from the start of your adventure together, when you'd gone to bat for her and make sure Wyll didn't take her head as a trophy.

Since then, though - on your journey together, she'd taken careful notice of you. And gods, she likes you. You're very different she must admit. Where Karlach is strong and fiery, you're cool and calculated. She figured that's just what magic users are like, but Gale is pretty keen on correcting this assumption. You're a sorcerer, specifically, means the whole magic thing is in your composition and not your study.

Which explained why your head isn't the books like their local wizard. She does find you to be rather charming. You're good at talking your way in and out of almost everything, and you can outwit even the cleverest people on camp. You'd think it'd make you... annoying. Or cruel. And sure, you're a little calculating - but mostly, you're sweet.

Karlach's really never met anyone like you before. Her companionship is a little limited because before the Blood Wars, she was a rag-tag kid in the street of the city. But you grew up in a noble house, learned to charm and finesse your way through everything. You know how to read situations before they've even happened.

And you always explain them to her afterwards.

You make Karlach nervous, strangely. Which is wild! When it comes to socializing, she can get along with almost anyone. You though, you always see right through her. You know when she's using her own personality as a shield, and you always know just when to intervene. Or when to say nothing, and just let her sit with you.

The day she blew up at you, after defeating Gortash - you'd handled it better than she could've hoped. You were comforting, and kind, and let her feel it out without making her feel bad. With you, she felt hopeful despite knowing that the end was probably going to come for her eventually.

With you, she thinks she could endure even the end of the world.

You're in the city now, no longer sleeping in the woods. When everyone else has gone to bed, Karlach finds you in the study, a room attached to the main living quarters.

She knocks before entering. Your voice is soft as you tell her to come in. Dressed in your comfy night clothes, your hair damp from washing up. You're bent over the desk with a furrow in your brow that Karlach finds sweet.

"Hey, baby," She asks, her heart thumping soft "Hope I'm not disturbin' your research."

"Of course not," You reply back, encouraging her towards you "I'm actually due a break."

Wordlessly, you sit up from your chair, pointing for Karlach to sit. She follows through, a little confused as to what you're doing before you plop yourself back into her lap. She throws her head back in laughter.

"Don't know what I was expecting there," She giggles, arm curling around your waist "All cozy?"

"Mm," You melt yourself into her embrace, turning to look at her. Your eyes are soft, free hand cupping her face "I'm cozy. What's keeping you up, pretty girl?"

The words catch her off guard completely, her engine flaring from the heat.

"Shit, what's with that?" She glances down at you, smiling like the cheeky fucker you are "I can't get any redder, you know? It's making my engine burn."

"You like it, no?" Your voice is smooth, smug in a way that gets her hot "My pretty girl,"

Karlach stares at you as you say it. Traces the curve of your lips, the slight arch of your brow. Asses the weight and warmth of you as you lay your legs over her lap and feels her body start to react. She didn't think it was possible to feel so complete by someone, even among the impending doom at the end of the world.

With you it fades away to nothing. Permission to want freely, she had no idea she had wanted that so bad. She had no idea she could want more when you'd already given her so much.

It's nice to be greedy. A little greed is fine, after everything.

"If you keep talking to me like that, we're going to do a lot more than just sitting, you know?" She tells you seriously.

You smile and laugh but don't deny her "Only if you say please,"

❈ LAE'ZEL ;

The Githyanki do not fall in love.

It's a fact of the culture, a mark of their honor. Love is for the soft, tender fleshed species of the material planes. It does not suit warriors, not the ruthless githyanki who spend their entire lives training the sword and learning magic. Love had always been a flimsy concept to Lae'zel. To the point she'd never thought about it or cared too. For the gith, there is only pleasure and carnal desire. The foolishness of longing can only be harbored in the lesser existence of the outer-world. The world outside of her creche.

For a long time, this was true for Lae'zel. She had never intended her time in the material plane to weaken her in the ways in which it did. Or that the experience of a ghaik parasite trapped behind her eyes would will her into cooperation with lesser beings. In many ways egregious, unfathomable. In trying to rid herself of one parasite, she'd found herself another one - more intolerable and more consuming than the first.

You. What a foreign and remarkable bond. From the beginning she had told you the truth, that the gith do not love and she would not be able to love you. Though she could admit passion, admit admiration for your courage, admit possession - she could not admit love. She knew nothing of it.

Over the course of your journey, you'd managed to prove her wrong. Slowly stripped bare of the identity she'd made her life around, you stripped Lae'zel down to her soul. Her most honored solider, and most formidable ally. When the time came, you'd told her to do what she must, to liberate her people. That you'd be there when she returned.

That you'd wait for her.

Months apart with few visits in between meant that each time Lae'zel sees you must make every minute count. Enjoying your body and indulging in carnal pleasures is only so much of that. What Lae'zel looks forward too most, she must admit, is the gentleness of your touch whenever she comes back to Fae'run.

Soft warm whispers among the indulgent plush of bed sheets and candles. A room that smells like lavender and oak, prayer books and scripture littered on the desk. A cleric of Bahamut, and a soul strong as steel.

But this, her head resting in your lap as you stroke her hair so carefully, is what she's missed most of all. No doubt she's going soft.

"Chk. You are smitten by the text in front of you as if you have forgotten of my return,"

You look down at Lae-zel with a laugh, carefully placing said book down on the bedside table. The voice you speak with her is different from her own. Tender fleshed even in your speech, you let her curl herself into you.

A vulnerable position, open to whatever may come.

"I'm sorry, pretty girl," You hum. The words practically startle her "I don't mean to neglect you. It was an interesting passage."

"Pretty...It is true among the githyanki, I am among the finest of their ranks," She replies, turning herself towards you - getting comfortable "Yet still, something stirs."

"Are you embarrassed?" You reply, delighted as her frown deepens. Before she has a chance to argue with you, you lean down to press your lips against hers briefly "How sweet of you."

"I do not get embarrassed," She insists, scowling as you begin to giggle at her "It was merely unexpected."

"You're beautiful to me, Lae'zel." You hum, stroking her cheek gently as she continues to lay herself across. Your eyes are tender and lidded. That look of obsession she recalled from the months prior returned in full, and no longer hidden. Unlike your other mortal companions, or the pale elf - there is nothing hidden in your words. No agenda "More beautiful than anyone else. At least to me. Getting to look at you so closely is a gift."

She softens, her hand gripping yours resting on her chest

"When it is over," She says seriously, a solemness to her voice "I will return to you. This I swear. Without you, the liberation of my people would be no less then a dream,"

You return her smile in kind.

"My pretty, wonderful girl," You hum. She loves you. She thinks she understands it now "I know you'll return to me, nailo. You always keep your promises."

"Yes," She says, an unfamiliar emotion overwhelming her "I will not forsake all we have promised."

The affection in your voice shakes Lae'zel to her core. Initial abrasion fades only into warmth. It's not so bad to hear, even if it is tender fleshed.

▸ a/n ; the word reader uses for lae'zel is elvish for swift winds!! reader is meant to be sort of a book worm so you do not need to picture them as a elf and more of a linguist.

this is the most substantial thing i've written in the last few weeks so commentary is very appreciated. i'd be willing to do a minthara and halsin addition to this eventually if anyone is interested!!

anyways, baldurs gate companions i love u. reblogs so appreciated !

#bg3 x reader #baldurs gate 3 x reader #astarion x reader #wyll x reader #gale x reader #shadowheart x reader #karlach x reader #lae'zel x reader #writing tag #waah. i love them all

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nicksolemnlyswears · 6 months ago

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STAY WITH US

this oneshot can be read as a standalone.

COMFORT ME, STAY WITH ME

COMFORT ME, STAY WITH ME (PT. 2 HELAENA'S TURN)

pairing: aegon targaryen x targaryen! reader x helaena targaryen

word count: ~2.7k

warnings: spoilers for s2e2 of HoTD, mentions of death of a child, mentions of blood, light cursing

a/n: so i lied, so sorry, my apologies, remember how i said i wanted this part to be smut? well it didn't happen. in the end it didn't seem right because these oneshots originated form a place of care and comfort [not horniness like usual]

that being said i am open to doing a series of small oneshots based on their relationship that are more spicy because regardless it lives rent free on my brain and i'd love to share the pervertedness they'd get up to. also i've never written a threesome and that seems like a good writing exercise.

hope you like this oneshot. it's really sweet and when i was thinking of what else to do with them it simply clicked. my only wish is for it to have the same comfort provoking feeling as the other two. while this little series was written as a way for me to feel better about these characters it makes me happy to know it served the same purpose for a lot of you guys. also this was my first time writing for HoTD and you're all so nice ;) THANK YOU THANK YOU THANK YOU FOR ALL THE LOVE.

enjoy!

Without Jaehaerys by her side, his twin sister Jaehaera must adjust to being alone. Her lifelong playmate is gone, and now she ought to find her place as an only child.

The silver-haired girl restlessly jumps through different activities, searching for the one that will entertain her long enough without company. It is difficult because each time she successfully gets distracted, she turns to catch her brother's attention, only to find he's no longer there.

Queen Helaena watches her as she stitches together a new embroidery piece for a dress. The Queen spent her days with both her children, but now that one of them is gone, she spends nearly every waking moment with her daughter. Observing. Protecting. Alert.

"The three-headed dragon shall rise once more," Helaena mumbles under her breath. The maids ignore her mumblings. The Queen's words don't make sense half the time.

A squeal of delight from her daughter prompts the needle to pierce Helaena's finger and a bead of blood forms at the pad of it. Looking up, she finds you picking up Jaehaera and kissing her chubby cheeks. The girl is enamored by her cousin and the attention you provide.

"Good morrow, 'Laena," you brightly greet her, setting down Jaehaera and sitting by her on the floor. "Have you broken fast yet?"

Helaena places a hand in yours as a greeting and nods kindly, assuring you she's been eating all her meals. At times, her appetite turns into nausea as glimpses of her dead son invade her senses, but she tries fighting through it.

She closes her eyes and thinks of anything else—primarily you. You who distract her and treat her with such care without judgment of her eccentricities. It's odd how she's caught herself multiple times seeking your approval.

As Helaena returns to her stitching, Jaehaera bounces over and falls into your arms. "I wish for my hair to be like yours."

"Allow me, Princess," Jaehaera's nursemaid intervenes. She does not wish to be seen as lazy and incapable of her job to care for the children.

The small Princess holds tightly onto you, hiding her face on your chest as she settles on your lap. "No, I want my cousin to do it. She's a Princess, and I want Princess's hair."

You giggle at her words and gesture to the nursemaid that it's alright. "Come on, sweet girl, sit," you coo, positioning her in front of you.

One of the maids hands you a hairbrush, and you begin your work. As a Princess, your hair is mostly styled by your maids, but every lady should know how to style it appropriately.

"You're such a pretty girl, Jaehaera. Did you know that?" You talk to distract her from squirming too much. She's an impatient little thing, like her father.

Jaehaera giggles sound throughout the room. She hasn't laughed like that since her brother died. It brings a sad smile to Helaena's lips.

"You're prettier," Jaehaera whispers bashfully, her cheeks a healthy hue of pink.

"Oh, I don't know about that. You're much more beautiful. Do you know why?"

Jaehaera shakes her head, causing you to hold tightly onto the intricate plaits you're weaving in her hair. You inadvertently smile at her benightedness.

"Because you look just like your mummy, and she's very beautiful, and she's a Queen," you gasp lightly, creating a tone of excitement in your voice.

Although she's kept her nose down while stitching, Helaena's cheeks burn just as brightly as her daughters. Your words continue to flatter her. You have a way with words that can make even the most ordinary of townsfolk feel special.

With a small, excited gasp, Jaehaera asks, "Will I be Queen one day?"

"There's always a possibility," you hum, pining the remaining plait into her hair. It is hard to explain the complexities of succession and legacy to a child when there is a current war debating that same subject. "All done, go over to the mirror."

"She adores you," Helaena sighs as she watches her daughter fawn over her new hairstyle.

"And I, her. She's the sweetest girl ever."

Helaena turns to look at you and sees the soft smile gracing your lips. Your eyes then catch hers, and your smile broadens. It makes her wonder what her life would be like if you were not around. How would she have dealt with her emotions?

"I must go, but can you come to my bedchambers tonight? There is a matter I must discuss with you," Helaena says timidly, casting aside her embroidery.

"As you wish, my Queen." You can't fault her for preferring to speak in the depth of the night when the castle sleeps, and there are no wandering eyes to pass judgment.

It gives Helaena whiplash when you effortlessly switch from calling her name to calling her 'my Queen.' She rather enjoys both terms, especially when you call her yours.

Helaena bids you farewell with a kiss on the cheek, blissfully unaware of its effect on you. Such displays of affection are not rare in court, but lately, their significance has changed for you, as Helaena has never been one to indulge in court etiquette when it involves physical touch.

When the sun has disappeared over the horizon, and the castle has quieted down, you make your way to the Queen's bed chambers.

You have always been inclined to stay in the shadows, where it's safe. You are a sheep amongst a den of wolves, and if you draw too much attention to yourself, danger will follow.

You have failed so far, considering you enjoy the company of the King and Queen. Grief unexpectedly brought you together and made your bond steadfast, but wherever Aegon and Helaena go, watchful gazes follow, thus making you part of the spectacle as well.

Otto and Alicent Hightower are taking the reins of this unnecessary war, but you feel safe under Aegon's and Helaena's careful watch. You believe they will protect you from any danger coming from within the castle walls, at the very least.

You're doing your mother a great disservice as you strengthen the bond of the King and Queen. The ache of losing a child will forever remain in their hearts, and waves of pain continue to crash, but that thick fog of grief that was cast upon them has slowly started to lift, thanks to you.

Pushing open the door to Helaena's bedchambers, you step into the room. It's well into the night, and the candlelight illuminates the room. You stumble over your steps when you notice Aegon and Helaena standing close together as if they were about to kiss.

"My apologies, your graces. I believed the Queen to be alone," you bow your head, red painting your cheeks. It's a gesture that originates from embarrassment rather than submissiveness.

"Do not apologize. We wished to speak to you," Aegon speaks, beckoning you deeper into the room.

He offers you a goblet of wine, which you accept gracefully to alleviate the dizzying wave of nerves you're feeling. You've never been alone with Aegon and Helaena. People have always been around, and up to a fortnight ago, they barely spoke to one another.

The ruling couple sought your counsel regarding their marriage, recognizing you as an intermediary. You offered your advice to the best of your abilities, considering you have yet to marry.

With time and encouragement, they reached out to each other for comfort. Piece by piece, they were able to speak and share the emotions that troubled them. Nonetheless, they kept you closer than ever.

You're the calm amidst the storm.

You take a drink of the sweet wine to busy yourself. Helaena and Aegon stand side by side, his hand on the small of her back as Helaena plays with her fingers. They're backlit by the fire burning by the fireplace. It casts a warm glow over their figures, making the situation seem much more intimate. You're certainly intruding.

"We wish to thank you for everything you've done for us recently," Helaena breaks the creeping silence. She's just as nervous as you are, if not more.

"Helaena and I have been thinking about how to repay you for your generosity," Aegon continues, staring intently back at you to gauge your reaction to his words. He's afraid of reading you wrong and fucking things up—like he usually does.

You instantly shake your head, "As I said before, there is no need-"

Helaena's following words cause silence to befall as you stare back at them in surprise. A sort of surprise they cannot read. "We wish to wed you," Helaena blurts nervously, her fingers twisting together.

This is not a moment to speak in riddles. Helaena is fully aware of the situation before her and wishes nothing more than for you to stay by their side, no matter the cost.

For once in her life, she hasn't felt lonely in the castle. She has an ally she can trust and confide in.

You've been the subject of Aegon and Helaena's conversations for numerous nights. At first, it was difficult to understand that they both held deep affection towards you while caring for each other. They debated for a long time about what to do about it and they agreed on one thing wholeheartedly—you only deserved the best.

Then, it came to Aegon.

He's named after Aegon' The Conqueror' Targaryen. The King took over the seven kingdoms with his sister wives by his side.

A simple Valyrian tradition would solve their dilemma while strengthening his claim to the throne. It's poetic, a part of history being re-enacted.

"Pardon?" Your voice is barely above a whisper. You stare back at them with wide eyes as they jump from Aegon to Helaena and back to Aegon.

The goblet in your hand lightly shakes along with your hand. You place it on a nearby table, afraid of spilling it. Surely, you misheard.

"Our affection grows greater day by day. More than we ever thought possible," Helaena confesses, desperately reaching for your hand.

Your gaze falls on Aegon to seek his opinion, and he nods in agreement. There is not much to say. You have proved yourself valuable to them in a way that is much too important. You serve to keep them sane and emotionally stable. A feat no one has cared to accomplish before.

You do not use Aegon as a puppet or manipulate him to achieve sinister goals on behalf of his name, much like the rest of the court does. Those people only care for power, even if they break Aegon piece by piece. They destroy him while you take the time to pick up the pieces and put him back together.

"Such drastic actions must not be taken. I merely offered you comfort when you needed it because I care for you both," you stutter, pressing a hand to your forehead. All of a sudden, the room is warm, and a layer of perspiration forms on the back of your neck.

Aegon grunts and approaches you, cupping your face in his palms, "That is precisely why we wish to do this. You have cared for us like no one has before, including ourselves. You planted yourself in our souls, and now we cannot let you go lest we go insane. If you do not feel the same, say it, but do not lie to us."

His tone is firm, yet he cannot disguise the pleading behind it. He's never wanted something as much as he wants you.

"I-" Your palms ghost over the top of his.

It is all too much. The prospect of being wed looms over your head like a threat. Otto Hightower will have no qualms about using your lack of a husband as a war strategy. It should not be his decision in the first place, but it is out of your hands as you're considered a prisoner to him.

You would be a liar if you said you did not reciprocate their feelings. They've been present for a while now, it is why comforting them comes so easily to you. Seeing them hurt only pains you.

With this new opportunity, you will no longer be used. You will not be sold to some old lord in the countryside for the gain of a few hundred men. You would be protected.

Most importantly, you will marry a man and a woman who love you. Yes, they are broken, but with you by their side, they will thrive and rise to the occasion.

Aegon's lilac eyes beg you to accept their proposal. "I feel emotions I thought impossible. They are confusing and overwhelming, but they are real," you admit.

Relief floods over Aegon, and he can't help but release a sigh of relief. He presses his forehead against yours, whispering a silent thank you to the old gods and the new.

"Will you become our wife? Our lifelong companion?" Helaena asks, coming up behind you. You feel her breath on your neck as she leans her head on your shoulder.

One word is enough to respond. One simple word will change your life. For good or bad is to be determined.

"Yes," you breathe, reaching for her hand. The smile on Aegon's lips and Helaena's giggles in your ear make it all worth it.

Aegon needed to do things right so no one could argue against your union. He contacted the Septon himself, and only a day later, after his proposal, the Valyrian ceremony took place.

He clearly instructed his guard and the Septon that they must not tell anyone, or there would be consequences.

The ceremony is quick and private amongst the gardens of the Red Keep. You wear the traditional red and gold robes and headpieces that match Aegon's.

A red dragon decorates the front of your garb, matching Helaena's golden one on her dress. She stands to the side with a faint smile, Jaehaera clinging to her dress.

Aegon carefully cuts your lip with the dragon glass. As blood surges to the surface, he presses his thumb to the cut and later spreads it across your skin. You repeat the same on his lips, staring apologetically back at him, yet the burning pain does not compare to the pain he's felt before. It's almost pleasurable as he takes in the symbolism of the gesture.

Cutting your palms, you let the blood that will bind you together for eternity fall onto the goblet. You lock eyes with Aegon as you take a drink from it, passing it to him a moment later.

He was not raised surrounded by Targaryen customs, but he has a new deep appreciation for them. The ceremony is deeply intimate as they share the blood that will mark them as one.

With a couple of final words, the Septon concludes the ceremony and with the knowledge that you are entirely theirs, Aegon crashes his lips against yours.

Aegon stayed firm in his words. He did not wish to sully your name, so he waited until the moment was right. The reward is much too sweet.

It is the first time you've shared a kiss with Aegon, and it is unlike anything you've felt before. In the past, you've snuck kisses in dark corners of the Red Keep, but none have ever kissed you with the intensity Aegon has to offer.

Helaena approaches your tangled embrace, and as you resurface for a breath, she presses her much more delicate lips on yours. The kiss is so different yet the same simultaneously. The intent behind it is identical while the pace is slower and sultrier.

Yours and Aegon’s blood coats her lips and it’s as if she also partook on the ceremony. Your heart beats intensely inside your chest but you’re happy.

Finally, you three are bonded, destined to stay together for eternity.

Jaehaerys will forever be missed. His life has become a mystery; Aegon and Helaena will never see it fulfilled. But in this tragedy, the gods were kind to Aegon and Helaena and provided a new person to love, cherish, and join their family.

were you expecting a good old throuple situation? eh, eh (pretend i'm wiggling my eyebrows and nudging your side with my elbow). im just saying she's perfect for their little dysfunctional family and the drama it will create with the Hightowers and Targaryens? immaculate.

if you enjoyed this oneshot please don’t forget to like or comment (i accept keyboard smashes, emojis, words of encouragement, praise, virtual hugs and gushing about hel and aegon) and if you want more of it feel free to let me know!

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aklaustaleteller · 7 months ago

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heyy how are you! i have this idea that wont leave my head, the reader is scared of love and runs away from it and keeps pushing anyone that tries anything away, but klaus does everything to prove to her that his intentions are pure, and after he does with a little while, she find out about him being a hybrid (maybe she gets really scared) and he has to grovel his way into her life

Mendable Inside Your Ribs

Y/n, all her life, had reached for love and then felt her white-knuckled dying grip on it slip. Then suddenly, Klaus comes in her life looking like the light at the end of the tunnel – and maybe, just maybe, their monsters have more in common than they originally thought.

Warnings - Mentions of animalistic urges, monstrosity, blood, wounds and bruises but it's all in a metamorphic manner (well, except for the blood)

Word Count - 3.2k

Masterlist | please reblog the fic if you like it!

Finally, Anon, I'm posting your request! I'm so sorry I took so long, but I truly hope that you find the wait worth it once you're done reading this! I could've written this in an entirely different and simpler manner, but I was already half-way through it already written it in a poetic/metamorphic way, so I hope you guys still enjoy it for I am quite proud <3 Please do tell me if you do!

Y/n, all her life, had reached for love and then felt her white-knuckled dying grip on it slip. So many times had it happened that now she was found sat with her hair tangled, dried blood and dirt on her face and inside her nails with crooked teeth, clawing at her own skin sitting in a corner, rocking herself back and forth to comfort herself as she saw love creeping towards her with a smile so sinister that it could make shivers run down the devil’s spine.

From her parents shaming her for wanting something so simple as love, to her romantic partners who’d always stumble a couple steps back upon realising just how hungry she was for love – how animalistic she could get just for an ounce of it.

All of it turned her into a person as cold as a tombstone standing over a dead person’s grave, unfeeling and unmoving.

But when she would feel, it felt like her own heart was pushing her head under the water, holding her in there until she had only one more breath left in her. It made her want to snarl and to hiss, to bite and to claw at the person who made her heart leap out of her chest.

Which would then make her turn and run the other way as fast as her feet could carry her, back to the corner where she belonged. Sometimes she would raise her head and look at the walls inside of her, reading the numbers she had madly tally-marked on them to keep track of just how many days she had kept herself chained there. And somewhere along the passing time, she’d begun defeatedly losing count.

Yet as she sat in that very corner and raised her head this time, she saw something bright. Almost like a light at the end of the tunnel. So she’d gotten forward on her hands and moved on her knees, curiosity pulling her forward until she reached the border which she’d have to cross to get to the other side.

And that’s when she saw him standing there – Klaus Mikaelson. Smiling down upon her like she was the cutest lamb he’d ever come across, instead of falling backwards because he actually saw the love-hungry animal that she was.

So, she had taken it upon herself to back off, and ran away from him. But horror crept over her and held her tight when she saw that he had followed her back inside, back to her corner where she resided.

“Love,” she heard him whisper as he brought his open hands in front of him, wanting her to place her own calloused ones in them and come with him.

But she never did, always turning away with a growl so that he’d leave. But every time she’d look his way to check if he’d finally left, she’d find him still standing there, with that same smile and those same open arms.

“Go away, Klaus,” she said coldly, looking away so her dead eyes wouldn’t have to witness hurt flash through his starry eyes.

He wanted nothing more than for her to see herself the way he saw her. Wanted for her to know that he was the one who’s undeserving of her love, actually. He was the animal here, not her.

But she profusely denied all of his pleas and begs, holding herself strictly uptight so that she wouldn’t fall into pieces upon him and crush him under the weight of all her grief, anger and tragedy.

He just couldn't seem to get through to her, no matter how hard he tried. So he just decided to remain persistent, and show her how truly pure his intentions are via small acts. Like buying her gifts that he knew would matter to her, such as those small plants that never grow, or random postcards that he knew she put up on her walls, or books that he’d annotated for her to get her to take a glimpse into the way he saw her.

But sometimes, those acts got rather intimate. Like that time he brushed her hair for her for a week long when she had broken her wrist, or that night when he took her feet in his lap to massage them gently after she’d given her best performance on stage. Hell he’d even gone as far as to cook for her on especially hard nights so that he could feed her his love.

And maybe he was just growing delusional now, but he was beginning to feel like she was taking down her walls around him brick by brick. She no longer glared at him with those ice cold eyes when he would enter into a close proximity to her, nor did she sneer at him to go away.

Instead, he saw her eyes grow a little wider when he’d enter the same room as her, the dead stare tucking itself away for other people as some life took a dive in her eyes. And he heard a lullaby in her voice when she’d greet him back, her body turned towards him and eyes on him to give him all of her attention.

That’s how he knew that he had brought her away from that corner and back to the very border, again. And he also knew that he now had to tread carefully so that she wouldn’t go back, tumbling away from him.

And Klaus didn’t know if the Salvatore brothers telling her all about the supernatural world, about who The Klaus Mikaelson was, was his fault or not.

But what he did blame himself for, was for lowering his guard when he’d brought her just one step away from crossing the border and loosened his grip on her because the moment she was told about his past, not only did she go fumbling back but she also left crescent moons dug in his shoulders from when she’d been shaking him, sobbing loudly and crying out for him to tell her that all of it wasn’t true.

But Klaus couldn’t lie to her, so he’d stood frozen with tears spilling from his eyes as she ran back to her corner, tally-marking another day after so long that her eyes had taken a moment to adjust to the darkness that surrounded her again, this time, more like an evilly laughing capturer instead of holding her in it’s arms like a pitiful mother.

Y/n awoke this morning with her eyes puffed up, it happened every time she went to sleep exhausted out of her mind. And as the flashes of last night began reeling through her mind again, her eyes grew moist and her vision grew blurry while she climbed down the stairs to go into the kitchen.

Grabbing a glass of water she chugged it down, leaning over the sink and mumbling to herself that everything was fine, that she was fine. Her eyes remained shut but tears slipped out regardless, sniffling sounds echoing through her house as she tried not to retain any of the information that had been dumped on her.

“He’s a …hybrid,” Stefan had said, looking at her through his lashes like he was talking to a child about how tooth fairies aren’t real.

“And what’s that?” She asked, a feeling in her gut telling her that it was, in no way, a sweet creature.

“He’s half vampire, and half werewolf,” Damon finished saying behind her.

Breath was knocked out of her lungs at that. She’d always had her suspicions about some certain people surrounding her, like Stefan and Damon themselves, but never once had she felt anything remotely scary when Klaus would stand in front of her.

Perhaps it was because of his big starry eyes, and those unruly blonde curls that he kept trimmed for some reason. Or those dimples that would shy away from her gaze and that mouth which would always stretch into a smile upon her sight. Or, those hands that held her so gingerly, and those feet that held the weight of her body as he carried her home.

And maybe it was the fact that he’d never once told her about this himself, that hurt the worse. He had lied to her, or kept the truth from her, dare she say to defend his honour. But it felt like a punch square in the chest when she learned about the blood that stained his hands, his clothes, his face and his mouth.

Despite that horrifying revelation, she had run straight to his home and shouted at him to come outside. And the moment he had, she was pushing and shoving at him, putting her hands on his shoulders and shaking him, crying – “tell me they are lying! Tell me that you aren’t what they say you are, that you have no blood on your hands!”

“Tell me!” She had broken down, resting her head on his chest as she let out the sobs.

“Tell me this wasn’t your intention!” She shook him again and Klaus had opened his mouth to agree with her, but she had fallen to her knees then, looking up at him with tears staining her cheeks and blood swirling in her eyes.

“Please don’t take me home,” she had told him despite the hot tears streaming down her face and fog settling in her mind. “I can never go home now,” she whispered, scared.

Home was something that was supposed to be a constant in one's life, that one returned to every single day. And there hadn’t been anything like that for her until Klaus. And now that the shelter of his frame had been uprooted and thrown away, cold rain scraped at her skin all over again as she scrambled around to find her corner to go back to.

She didn’t want that corner to be her home but time and time again, it was proven to her that it was – whether she liked that or not.

Taking deep breaths to gather herself, Y/n went back up to her room to get ready for the day – knowing that all she was going to do was read and write and water her dying plants and maybe bake some biscuits that she was never going to get Klaus to taste now.

And just as she came back to make her first cup of tea, she heard a hissing sound and turned to see a paper that had been folded into half. It had been slipped in through the crack underneath the door.

She picked it up and opened it, immediately recognising Klaus’ handwriting.

Y/n,

I know I’ve wounded you deeply by keeping who I truly am from you. But spending so much time with you, I’d somehow mistaken myself to be just the Klaus Mikaelson that you saw. I'm the one who’s wrong at that part, forgive me for it. I never meant to lie to you, perhaps, I was waiting for the right time. But it’s never the right time, is it? I’ve learned that now.

And while I’m sure the brothers told you enough, I’d still like to introduce myself to you all over again. This time, by laying all my defences down. I should’ve said it then and there, but something came over me and I couldn’t form words. But I hope you’d believe me when I tell you that hurting you was not my intention – it’s something far far away from what I truly do intend.

My family is hosting a traditional ball tonight. Please save this sick lover of yours a dance. And, you need not fret for I have brought you a dress, come outside?

Yours truly,

Klaus

A deep weight rested itself on top of Y/n’s chest as she slowly walked towards her door, and opened it. She’d been expecting to see Klaus, but instead there was a box on her porch with a silk bow resting on top of it. She sat down and brought it to her lap, opening it to reveal a blue dress, folded neatly inside the box.

She knew she was going – there was no doubt about that. But what did gnaw at her, was the chance of what would happen when she’d get there. She wanted to accept the feeling that told her he wouldn't hurt her. And yet, a tremor coursed through her body as she sat and sipped on her tea, waiting for the evening to roll around.

She wanted for him to unleash himself and show her who he truly is, so that she can love him for him. She didn’t want to fall in love with just his bruised upper skin – no. She wanted to get to know him, inside and out. Wanted to know what his guts found intimidating and what his soul found peaceful.

But if he wasn’t going to show her that, then nothing could ever make her clean herself up and rid herself of all the wounds that had been inflicted upon her, so that she doesn’t bleed on him from the cut that he didn’t inflict. She had a feelling that maybe, just maybe – there monsters had more in common than they thought they had.

There must be a reason behind the blood tainting his skin, perhaps, it was thrust upon him for all she knew! Maybe he didn’t want to be the monster that he had been turned into.

And if that’s true, Y/n wondered if she would still want to unravel him if it turned out that he was just a monster that had no other driving force apart from some personal fun.

So she dressed herself up for the night. Prepared to listen to him and ask him questions if he wouldn’t have answered them already in his explanation.

Entering the mansion that she always ran far away from, Y/n took a huge breath before wandering her eyes around to search for the one and only. And It didn’t take long before their eyes locked, with him already looking at her with rather guilty eyes and a relieved smile for she had shown up.

Walking to her, Klaus took in a shaky breath as he fixed his suite. He was nervous, hell, scared even. Honestly, terrified that tonight might be the final time he would see her and the final memory he’d have of her would be of her sprinting away from him for she couldn’t bear the sight of the ugly monster he had ended up growing into.

“You came,” Klaus smiled, looking at her with those same starry eyes except tonight they were shining because of the sheen layer of tears glossing them up.

“You asked me to,” she shrugged faintly, her mouth cold to sight but her eyes were big and almost smiling up at him.

With her hand still in his’ from when he had bent down to kiss the back of it, Klaus walked her over to the vacant balcony – nothing to witness the tragedy but the sky that had itself gotten dressed in its best constellations and ornament, the moon.

Klaus wanted to believe his heart when it told him that she would listen to him and try to love him, but his head’s juxtaposition was not gentle. It prepared him for the worst, reminding him of how no one had ever loved him before, and no one would now. For all that was true, he had only gotten worse over time.

“To hurt you, was never my intention,” he whispered, his big eyes looking into hers.

“It is true that I am a Hybrid – a vampire and a werewolf. It is also true that I’m covered in blood from head to toe, from my bones to my skin, I am drenched in it.”

His legs were growing jittery and breathing was becoming harder to do than it should be. But his hold on her hand only tightened, tears collecting on his bottom lash line.

“It is true that I am a monster. One with a heart that doesn’t beat and a soul that feasts upon the love it never gets,” with his free hand, Klaus wiped the tear as it slipped down the slope of his cheek.

She only stood still in front of him, urging him with her eyes to go on. Her own breathing ragged as she began seeing him and listening to him

“But I need you to know, before you leave tonight,” his voice shook as he stole his eyes from hers for a second to gain back his courage, as all of it had been spent the moment he mentioned her inevitable departure. “That I would never hurt you, I never can, hurt you,” he assured her, searching her eyes for anything.

“I truly am in love with you. And I will take forever to show you that if that’s what you’ll ask of me,” bringing her hand to his chest, he rested it there. “I want you to lay yourself bare in front of me so that I can show you that even your ugliest is loved by me,” he whispered.

“Say something, please,” he almost cried, his voice cracked, not having anticipated her departure to come so soon.

“I –,” Y/n began, her voice hoarse due to not having used it for so long. “I think I can love you, Klaus,” she uttered, looking away from his eyes, fearing that he was going to deny her heart upon realising just how ugly and bruised and beaten it is.

Upon the realisation that sure, her insides are a million colours – but they are all shades of blue.

And when the deafening silence got too much for her to bear, she turned away from him to make a run back home.

But her hand felt to have gotten caught in something and she was pulled right back, into a hard and vulnerable chest as her mouth felt something soft press itself hardly against it.

Klaus’ mouth.

His mouth was on hers and one of his hands was curled against the back of her neck while the other cradled her face with force.

Everything inside of her erupted into flames as she tilted her face to better mould it against his’, and fisted the curls on the nape of his neck, pushing him further into her while bending her back to accept the force.

“Say it again,” he breathed, breaking the kiss and resting his forehead on hers, his tears slipping from his eyes and falling onto her cheeks.

“I think,” she exhaled sharply, trying to catch her breath while her eyes remained stuck on his mouth. “I think I can love you,” she confessed again, instantly moving her lips in sync with his’ as he kissed her desperately, finally.

“My heart – it is shabby and broken but it’s already yours,” she choked out. “And it’s only mendable inside your ribs,” her shoulders shook as she cried, now fisting the shirt of his collar to keep him close to her.

“My love, your heart – it, it is safe with me,” he breathed with her, trying to calm his racing heart down. “And my heart will forever beat on your command,” sniffling, he tucked her hair behind her ear, gently lifting her face to seal his confession by breathing in her breath and letting her take away his’ as he pressed his mouth against hers, once again.

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oakgreenoak · 9 months ago

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Something I've always found kinda interesting about Red and Green in gameverse is how they turn some of the Stock Shōnen Protagonist/Rival tropes on their heads.

This is really long character analysis of these two and various media counterparts of theirs, so I'm gonna stick it under a cut.

In some ways they fit their roles quite well - aside from the obvious colour associations, you have Red as the hero whose sense of justice is stronger than his sense of self-preservation, and you have Green as the privileged rival who cares about beating Red above all else.

But, if you look at it another way - Green's got the light spiky hair, the hot-headed and boisterous personality, the drive to Get Better And Win. He's designed to read as really open and chipper, yet snarky. Sure, he isn't dumb, but he's arrogant, and he's got something of a one-track mind; the guy finds himself in the middle of a hostage situation because he's just that hellbent on fighting his rival, and does not seem to be thinking about anything else. He's also got a motivation - given how the Professor talks to him in the championship room and supplementary material like his Generations appearance, it's not a stretch to think the reason he's so driven to Get Better And Win is to prove himself to his grandfather. It's shown in later games and supplementary works that he's become somewhat of a mentor as he got older and wiser.

Red, on the other hand, is a quiet loner whose only motivation seems to be to get stronger for the sake of getting stronger. He's level-headed and dark haired, his cap rounding off his edges and obscuring his face. He's heroic, but not really sociable, as evidenced by the fact he spends the Johto games alone on a mountain without having told anyone where he went. He seems isolated in a way that later games' protagonists really don't. He may have always been a step behind Green, but he's always better.

Equally fascinating to me is how other adaptations have changed the base designs around and rewritten personalities to suit different purposes, while still being visually recognisable as counterparts to their game-selves.

For example: Red and Green's counterparts in Special slot WAY more neatly into their stock shōnen roles, with Red as the boisterous hero and Green as the broody rival, and it's reflected in their new designs.

Red's hair becomes spiky to reflect his more excitable nature. His hat, in turn, never obscures his face; it's always either tilted back to accommodate his fringe or turned backwards. Green's hair, on the other hand, is not quite as spiked upwards and instead falls into his face, frequently obscuring his far eye in the same way game!Red's hat does.

And then, of course, the anime balanced them in a totally different direction.

Instead of scrapping Green's personality wholecloth, it's become exaggerated in Gary. He's not the broody antihero rival, he's the arrogant, privileged, better-than-you rival. He's always ten steps ahead of Ash, always pisses him off, and is ALWAYS better until the end of his run. The anime also emphasises his intelligence far more, with him doing things like rattling off dex info and the speed of light in mph off the top of his head, to further contrast him with Ash.

Ash, who is of course THE shōnen protagonist. He's dumb, but determined, and always ready to help people in need. Unlike game!Red, the power of friendship (with more than just pokémon) is central to him; any given season of the show is defined as much if not moreso by his travelling companions and interpersonal relationships as it is by whatever he's actually doing.

It's funny to me, though, how most adaptations seem to find the fact that gameverse Red and Green have swapped some stock roles as something to fix. Even Origins, which is probably the closest a high-profile adaption has come to game-accurate, made its version of Red louder and more standard-hero-esque.

I'm not knocking any of these things, of course, just observing. I adore both Special and anipoke. I just think that the way the game characters are written could lead to some interesting dynamics were it to be explored more.

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yanderefarm · 3 months ago

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yandere cultist but its omegaverse

cw; religion, cults, yandere themes, omegaverse

ill post the introduction for him later too. ive had this idea for a minute i thought it was fun. u always see yandere cult leaders wheres the yandere followers who act the way they do because they're following what they were told. wheres the yandere cultists who have been convinced that you're their chosen soulmate and will do anything to prove it to you.

also i got the dominant thing from a yaoi manhwa i dropped i don't remember what it was called but im sure this trope isn't original to the verse i just put my own spin on it

you're what's called a "dominant" alpha, it's not anything to do with your role in the bedroom and more the strength of your traits. rut inhibitors and scent blockers have no effect on you while you struggle with interest in typical omegas. but because of the rarity of the condition it wasn't often taught about in schools. trying to find a "dominant" omega on normal dating apps was practically impossible.

that's why you turned to more conservative dating apps. less likely to find people who thought dominant omegas meant strap ons and muzzles and more likely to find people who thought the term dominant omega was a sin. while you don't agree with them an omega is a whole lot easier to reason with.

thats how you met him. he was a beautiful boy with long blue hair and lovely floral dresses. all his pictures were either clearly church pictures or candid shots of him working on a farm. all you really needed to see was the marked off dominant omega trait at this point but him being a cutie was a bonus.

you checked to make sure he was what he said he was and then you two hit it off immediately. he was shy but he used the cutest emojis, lots of hearts and sparkles. you found yourself talking to him every second of every day, completely enamored by the sweetheart he was.

so when you asked if you could finally go on a date in person you were surprised to find your stark differences reared their head. you had to meet his dad before you could go on a date. sure. he's made it no secret that he's a sheltered religious boy. the comment he also added about ensuring his purity was intact was unneeded but you could get past it. he's a good person.

he's a good person who happens to live in the same Happy Homes compound you had just watched a video essay about. you were surprised... and horrified. still as creepy as the place was you were too attached to him at this point to just abandon him here. if he couldn't be convinced to leave that's one thing but you hadn't even tried yet.

his family was warm and welcoming, a few uncomfortable comments and his eldest brother wouldn't stop glaring at you but that's not unique to them. it was a relatively normal farm house surrounded by identical farm houses. what could go wrong?

you had dinner with them and they even invited you to church with them. you knew you weren't about to be convinced to join the cult so you agreed. his father let you borrow some nice clothes and you ended up taking your boyfriend, his mother, and one of his sisters in your car.

the sermon was. boring. nothing uniquely offensive that you wouldn't find in any conservative religious church. the surprising part came with the announcements. the pastor, a beta dressed in white ushered your boyfriend and 4 other omegas onto the stage.

he talked about a plan, a calling each of them had from god. they were each supposed to bring wayward alphas to the church to join them in the house of god. yeah, you could get the gist and before you could even try to stand up one of the other boyfriends did so. he was talking about how this was bullshit and he didn't buy into this crazy crap. and then he collapsed. you watched as 2 others joined him in either death or unconsciousness.

the pastor ushered you onto the stage and your boyfriend's brother dragged you up by the arms. your heart was pounding in your ears and the lights above were glaringly bright. you barely noticed when your boyfriend's arms wrapped around your own.

"and you too shall enter the happiest homes. may god bless you."

you felt your mind go numb and the next thing you knew you were on the floor.

#top male reader #dom male reader #male reader #yandere ideas #yandere x male reader #sub yandere #yandere oc #yandere omega #yandere cultist #alpha reader

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vivalabunbun · 11 months ago

Text

As We Are, We Will Be

Summary: A nonsensical question is proposed in one singular moment between a stoic and stoic face in one singular universe.

Word Count: 9k (It was supposed to be short and sweet-)

Tags: Alhaitham X Fem! Reader, Smut, NSFW, Fluff, a lot of fluff, slight angst, soulmate au, slow fic, established relationship, married life, Soft! Alhaitham, attempts at comedy, mentions of aging, slightly jealous! Alhaitham, mutual pinning, soft sex, vanilla, safe sex (wrap it up), riding (cowgirl), fingering, slow sex, making love, really bad expatiations of scientific theories and math, just two nerds in love.

Authors Note: Happy belated birthday and Valentine's Day to my favorite dendro nerd. A continuation of this piece, one I hold dear. A thought experiment based on nothing more than the feverish delirium of love.

It was just for a moment.

A mere pasting instance in the contentious momentum of time when a glimmer caught your eyes in the muddled chatter of a crowd, a silver shimmer like starlight.

Interrupting your contemplation as your eyes impulsively search for the source.

A late morning on a Saturday, the markets and stalls were lively with families replenishing a week's worth of groceries. Bodies veering and easing through the bustle of the busty streets.

The wide breadth of life that moved all around you. Like a collection of small dots within the vastness of a universe.

But amid the vast collection of blurry faces were the flicker of silvery locks refracting the late morning light. Originating from a pair, an elderly lady and an elderly man, their aged hands intertwined.

Time had made her marks upon them, and gravity had pulled down on their wrinkled faces. Yet, the ends of their lips were pointed toward the sky. The corners of their eyes wrinkled as their gazes held each other's faces.

From their view, do they not see the starlight hue of their hair? Instead, do they still see the vibrancy and youth of their locks which age had stolen from them?

The image of each other reflected in their irises, was it from a time before the hands of gravity pulled on their creased skin and bowed bones? Would you ever be able to find out?

“I wasn’t aware you had a hobby of people-watching.” A baritone voice ghosts over your ear.

Jolting your head to your right, you come face to face with the interruption. Or perhaps, your mind finally registered Alhaitham’s presence just off to the side of you. His arms were weighted down with various bags.

Oh, that’s right, the markets and stalls were lively on the weekend with families restocking groceries for the upcoming week. You and Alhaitham were no different.

Glancing up at his ashen trestles and then scanning back at the starlight locks of the elderly couple, and then back to your husband.

“Hmm, not quite. Just noting the fact your hair is the same color as an old man’s, Haitham.” You catch the subtle twitch of his brow.

“Is that so? I hope you are aware you’re not immune to the inevitably of aging, wife,” Alhaitham returns your jest.

“Well, with your hair color and grumpiness, I’d say you’re already halfway there.”

“I needn’t expound on your equivalent levels of grumpiness, it won’t be long before your locks share the same ashen hue.”

“I guess that’s why we get along then, dear husband.”

“That’s one theory,” he huffs, a simple tone lacking any bite.

You pan your face back toward the crowd, partly because it’s getting harder to hold the neutral position of your lips, partly because your curiosity aches for an untold conclusion.

However, when your gaze returned to the ever-bustling sea of people, the pair of starlight hues were nowhere to be found. It was regrettable, but expected, the elderly couple were nothing more than a pair of strangers in a crowd full of unfamiliar faces.

They were just a brief scene that disappeared into the moving tides of people.

Leaving you with your unresolved musings.

“Is there anything else we need for the week?”

Alhaitham’s voice reels your consciousness back, swiftly you check the crinkled slip of parchment within your hand. Scanning down the list of written items, all with a neat little line crossed through their immaculately penned letters.

“It looks like we got everything we need.” You tuck the list into your pocket.

“Then it’s best we get home before our groceries are spoiled by the heat.” Alhaitham readjusts the bags in his hands.

A hum takes its place as your response. Pivoting your body in the direction of your shared home. From the corner of your field of view, his strides were paced to coincide with your shorter steps.

Studying the numerous bags occupying his hands, you can’t help but think it’s quite convenient to have someone as robust as your husband. Maybe it's these weekly grocery runs that are the secret behind his physique.

Discreetly, your hand slowly slips between the gap of his arm and body, linking your elbows together. So that your frame and his could withstand the push and pull of the crowd’s contentious momentum.

The neutrality of your lips had long slipped away, softened by the familiarity of his warmth. Even as your eyes were pointed on the path ahead, you had an inkling that a similar occurrence was mirrored on his lips as well.

An inquiry your curiosity didn’t need to peek to resolve.

That ache for an untold conclusion morphed into a new musing by the afternoon.

The silver shimmer from that elderly couple’s hair truly was like starlight. Perhaps that’s the correlation that steered your thoughts down this winding path of pondering.

Everyone, from those taking their first stumbling steps of youth to the slowed cane-assisted tramps in their golden years, is technically billions of years old. Or more accurately, the atoms and minerals in everyone are billions of years old.

The carbon in muscles, the calcium in bones, and the iron in blood were all forged in the hearts of bygone stars. When those bright beacons burned out they exploded in one last finale, expelling those materials across interstellar space. Stardust that found its way here.

Here within you, and here within the slow breaths of the man in front of you.

After being around for billions of years, does stardust ever get exhausted?

That would be a sensible explanation for why Alhaitham had snuck away amidst hanging up freshly washed laundry.

His tall frame stretched the expanse of the couch as his starlight lashes were shut, shamelessly relishing in a nap under the streams of sunlight trickled in from the window.

Squatting down you observe the guiltless expression plastered over his resting face, still deep in the trenches of sleep, a small huff passes through your lips. Well, this morning you did have him carry all the groceries from the market back home.

Your husband does deserve this little nap.

Trailing your eyes down his neck you note the lack of a pillow, then as your gaze travels further you note the absence of a blanket as well. Internally, your mind tsks at this forgetful habit of his.

Although his body and yours still have youth coursing through your veins, it doesn’t mean they’ll remain as impervious as they are now later down the line, especially if preventative measures aren’t taken.

Like having a pillow to support one’s neck, or a blanket to prevent chills from plaguing the body.

Standing back to full height, you retrieved the missing artifacts, returning with a plush pillow and light comforter.

Even when his head was momentarily lifted to make space for the pillow, and when the spare comforter was draped over him, Alhaitham didn’t stir one bit. At times you can’t determine if he’s a light sleeper or if his stubbornness refuses to leave the plain of dreams.

It’s a true wonder of life how Alhaitham’s able to sleep so soundly at night given his extensive naps.

The vivid sunlight illuminated patterns upon his cheeks and trestles, causing the ashen strands to dazzle in their refraction of the afternoon light. A sight your eyes just couldn’t help but be enraptured by.

Maybe you could blame the warmth of the sunlight, or maybe the serenity of this quiet Saturday afternoon, or perhaps even these fickle inquiries about his naps for the yawn that left your lips. Now might be the prime time for some research.

Lifting up the comforter just enough for an opportunity to slip through, your body settles in the space right against his. It’s crowded on the couch, the cushions unprepared for two bodies to occupy its entirety, the open edge looming against your back.

Even after all the shuffling and pressing against his dozing frame, your husband didn’t budge a bit.

Leaden lashes still shut and lips set in that all too familiar line, chest rhythmically rising and falling in time with yours. The very image of unperturbedness under the blessing of sleep.

“You really are like an old man.”

At that mere jab, the corners of his lips tugged down while his eyes remained closed. A quick slip that confirmed your earlier suspicions.

“Who knew you were so talented in acting, Haitham,” you snicker.

A muscular arm soon enveloped your form, further pressing you against his chest as if to silence any more sardonic quips from entering his ears.

It was quite the challenge to stifle those giggles before they could erupt from your lips. Peeking up, there’s an ever-so-subtle lift at the corners of his mouth. An express which yours mirrored.

Studying the details of the lips just a breath away, a new musing worms its way into your thoughts:

When the hands of gravity and time start to pull down on his skin and yours the same, leaving wrinkles and creases in their wake, will the edges of his lips still curl like this?

Would yours mirror the same?

A second yawn sneaks past your lips as your lashes grow heavier with each fluttering blink. Claiming a corner of the pillow to lay your head upon, the seconds between each subsequent blink grew longer and longer until your lids were too heavy to lift.

Perhaps the stardust in your bones was exhausted, craving a short rest in his warmth.

--------------------------------

There’s something against your back and your legs are tangled in something, sensations which gradually alert your dozing sense back from the fog of slumber.

At first, you only had the strength to peek open one lid, then promptly shut it. But in the nothingness behind your eyelids, something was halting your limps from stretching the weariness out from themselves.

You tried again, this time fluttering both sets of lashes apart ever so slightly. There’s a dry film coating your throat and mouth, feeling the impressions of the couch cushions and bundled comforter imprinted into your skin.

What time was it?

Blinking away the haze of sleep just enough to notice how the golden rays of a star were missing. A gray overlay was plastered over the living room despite the ticking clock hands displaying that it was late afternoon.

Peering back through the window behind, observing the congregating insipid clouds blocking out the azure sky.

A sure sign of rain despite the morning forecast. Rain… wasn’t there something left unfinished on the clotheslines outside? The groggy recollection of responsibilities creeps into the forefront of your mind.

The reign of your weary limbs slowly returns, and your legs languidly attempt to stretch out from the reveal they were caught in. However, their movements only caused a pair of longer limbs to ensnarl them further.

Alhaitham’s legs promptly caught yours, stifling any prospect of escape.

Your displeased whine was responded with a disgruntled groan by the man keeping your body locked against his.

Wasn’t your back looming just about the edge of the couch when you fell asleep? So why are you in this position now?

Your body wedged between the plush backing of the couch and his solid frame, the comforter swaddling you also didn’t aid in your immobility. Brawny arm draped over your waist, halting your feeble squirms at freedom.

“The laundry,” you mumble.

“Later.” A blunt interjection from a groggy voice.

“It’s going to rain.”

“Less than a 30% chance.”

“Haitham…”

Your husband simply burrows his head deeper into the leveled pillow, likely an attempt to leverage the cushy material to block out your grievances. His ashen lashes still stubbornly shut, much to your displeasure.

“Alhaitham.”

No fluctuations in your volume nor tone, but it was enough for one teal eye to peek out from under ashen lashes. Trailing up to a subtle frown to the furrow between your brow, then finally meeting your unamused stare.

“Laundry,” you try again.

A silent stare down, one stone face gazing upon an equally stoic face, like an immovable object pressed against an equally immovable object.

Which one will defend their title of most stubborn today?

His chest expands with a deep breath, grasp enclosing around your waist before his teal gaze shamelessly vanishes behind closed lashes. Robust frame pinning you further to the back of the couch as he continues to ignore your huffy floundering.

“Release me, don’t you dare-”

Your grievance was soon muffled by a gentle hand pressing your cheek into his palatial chest. A move that stupefies the irksomeness bubbling within until it falls defeated into placidness.

“Whether it be now or later, they’ll be clean regardless, it’s quite comfortable right here.” The resonance of his voice vibrates in his chest.

You respond with a humbled grunt. In terms of strength you’d always lose to your feeble husband, wouldn’t you?

There’s no point in peering up, for the pleased satisfaction of his resting face would bring a sour taste to your tongue. Thus, you merely adjust your limbs, coiling your arms around to his back and pulling his form closer.

It’s crowded on the couch, it’ll be troublesome if Alhaitham were to slip off the edge if his back were to stray any further.

At this distance, entangled so closely together, the soft beats of his heart in time with yours like a rhythmic lullaby beckons the heavy to return to your eyelids.

The gentle drumming of his heartbeat coaxes out a final sigh from you, lashes descending down as your vision dims back into the realm of slumber.

Slow breaths and heartbeats homogenize into a tender duet, tranquil enough to distract from the sporadic pattering against the glass and gradually increase in consistency.

A less than 30% chance of rain doesn’t mean that there’s a greater than 70% chance of no rain. It’s merely a statistical probability of 0.01 units of more precipitation at a given area in the given forecast area in the time period specified.

Known as the precipitation probability, calculated based on two factors:

The forecaster's certainty that precipitation will form or move into the area X The areal coverage of precipitation that is expected, then multiplied by 100.

Thus, if the forecaster were 90% certain that 30% of the forecast area would receive rain, then the forecast displayed on screens would read as a 27% chance of rain.

A crucial bit of information that seemed to have slipped his mind midst a quiet afternoon.

A troublesome miscalculation Alhaitham tsks at internally as he wrings out the pillowcase into a sink before tossing it back into the washing machine. Button-down shirts and blouses, wrinkled from the process of twisting out as much rainwater as possible, sat in damp piles awaiting their turn to be rewashed.

As he measures out the detergent he can hear the rattles and clanks of the pot and pans from the kitchen. A late dinner in preparation, a task which was supposed to be his this week.

When he woke up to the pattering of rain drumming against the window panes, the afternoon long gone, it stirred an ever-so-sinking pit of dread. Second only to the unamused stare of his wife as she replicated an overconfident statement:

“Less than a 30% chance, Alhaitham?”

How unfortunate it all was, that the area where this quaint house resides was part of that 30% of the forecasted area.

Teal eyes watch the bedsheets whirl and fumble as they spin in the wash, contemplating the circumstance and further action.

There is only one spare bedding set in the closet, so it’d be wise to allow you to have it for tonight as all the sheets and covers get rewashed and dried.

Your bed is about the same size as his, so two bodies wouldn’t have an issue fitting. At this rate, the two of you just slept in whichever bed was the most convenient.

However, given the current state of things, Alhaitham wonders if he should prepare himself to brave tonight on his bare mattress with a flimsy spare blanket and pillow.

He might as well return to the couch for tonight if that was the case.

The accumulation of all the years of science, mathematics, and research, Alhaitham wonders if there was ever a bright mind who came up with a formula to calculate how displeased one’s wife is.

What would be the factors plugged into the equation? And how accurate would it be?

More specifics needed to be gathered, something the man couldn’t do in the refugee of the laundry room. Thus, Alhaitham must brave a journey into the kitchen. His slipper-clad footsteps are slow and methodical as the kitchen appears from around the corner of the hallway.

Sights honed in on your back as you stood by the stove, a rich aroma wafting through the air.

Sleep still dusted your hair, evident in the few unruly strands sticking up erratically on your head, you made no attempt at fixing it. One hand is too occupied with stirring the pot on the stove, and the other set upon your hip.

Your stance wasn’t exactly tipping the scales in his favor.

Cautiously, Alhaitham made his way to you. Stopping just a few paces as your eyes peer over your shoulder, stoic gaze halting him in place just a few paces away. The faded imprint of the crumpled blankets and couch cushions on your cheek.

His hand twitches with the urge to run his thumb along the impressions, but rationally warns him of the consequences.

“The laundry?” No discernable tone in your voice.

“Everything has been collected and wrung out, I’ll rewash everything tomorrow.” It’s best to answer your questions this time.

“Hmm, they were out in the rain for quite a while now. They were dripping out onto the floor when you brought them in.”

“I’ve mopped away any rain and mud tracked between the back door and laundry room.” Teal eyes quickly checked the aforementioned area to ensure they were pristine before returning to you.

“Hmm.” You turn back towards the stove.

The soft ticks of the clock accompany the waning drums of raindrops against the glass, the kitchen hood whirring as a ladle continues to stir in a pot. A quiet lull engulfed the home. Treading on the side of caution, Alhaitham inhales deeply.

Without opening the box, one will never be able to confirm to fate of Schrödinger's cat.

“What’s for dinner?”

“Hmm? Well, it’s raining tonight, what better to eat on a rainy night than some Sabz Meat Stew, no?”

He’s careful to not sigh too audibly, lest he goes to bed with a stomach half-full of instant noodles and that miffed stare of yours.

Alhaitham decides to hold his tongue as teal eyes continue to watch you add more spices to the pot. Studying how nicely the apron is tied around your waist.

But it wouldn’t be wise of him to stand so close when the fabric of his shirt was still damp with rainwater transferred to him by the soaked laundry and sky.

His chain of thought was interrupted by the chimes of your phone on the countertop, catching your eyes as well as his to peek at the over. A certain name is displayed across the screen. It’s as if the hands of fate wanted to throw more salt into his face.

Bahram (Manager)

It’s a Saturday night, for what reason would an employer need to contact an employee so late?

Alhaitham’s focus shifts to your gaze which is still honed in on the screen. A bitter tinge crawls up the tip of his tongue, threatening to spoil his appetite. Perhaps, he wouldn’t mind settling down in his bare bed with just a spare comforter without dinner tonight.

“Can you reject the call for me? He can wait until Monday to get me to resolve whatever he messed up,” you scoff before rolling your eyes back to the stove.

Swiftly he swipes to decline the call, let your voicemail remind Bahram of the concept of ‘off time’. The phone whirs again right after the first rejection, but he simply swipes decline again.

Pushing the device away with a bit too much satisfaction in his veins.

Glancing back at your frame, he lets out a sigh as he relents. Resting his head into the crook of your neck, careful to leave a bit of distance between your bodies and to not hamper your shoulder’s movement.

“Hm?” You hum expectantly.

“It was my oversight tonight.” A string of words a bit unfamiliar on his tongue, but stubbornness hasn’t been in his favor tonight.

“And?”

“I’ll be more cautious regarding naps.”

“Hmph.”

The lull returns, him resting his head on your shoulder and you continuing to watch over the stew. Teal eyes on you and your eyes on the stove. Until your shoulders raise with a deep inhale.

“Go get changed out of that wet shirt then set the table, this bastardized version of ‘soup’ will be ready in 20 minutes.” You reach for a skillet just off to the side.

He hums this time, the liberation from treading in suffocating lull tugs at the end of his lips. He surmises that laying his head against you for a few moments more won’t be so consequential.

The patter of raindrops still splattered against the glass panes of the window, drops which warped and blurred the scenery beyond the glass. Not that there’s any scenery to look at, not with the dreary clouds crowding the sky.

A heavy sigh huffs through your nose, curling onto your side as you adjust your pillow.

A filling dinner, a warm shower, and soft comforters. Factors that should contribute to a restful night’s sleep, or at the very least make your eyelids weary with the weight of lethargy.

Yes, perhaps those components should’ve granted you entry into the reprieve of a dream.

If it wasn’t for the fact you’ve intruded into the domain of slumber twice already today.

And the tempter who lured you to do so currently has his arm wrapped around your waist.

Alhaitham’s chest rises and falls against your back, soundly asleep without an ounce of guilt over the predicament he’s partly responsible for.

Lifting your head off the flattened pillow, your body twists around to fluff the stale stuffing back up before settling back to your position.

His body rested against yours just as it would any other night. But there’s a weight at the corners of your lips, one only grew heavier as your ears witnessed each content exhale resounding from the man who seemingly stole your sleep.

If you were crueler, you would’ve exiled Alhaitham to the couch or his barren mattress.

However, he’d probably sleep just fine regardless.

Canting your head up, you flip your pillow to the other side once more.

Your rolls and rhythm were abruptly interrupted by the clasp of two harsh hands pulling your hips into his, the contours of his rigor now digging into the plush of your ass. Forcing a stunned gasp up your throat.

“It seems like my wife has quite a bit of energy.” His timbre deeper from grogginess.

Ah, all the twisting and turning you did just to adjust the troublesome pillow must've disturbed him.

The softness of your ass cradled against his pelvis through the thin material of a button-down, an item borrowed from his closet that you’ve designated as sleepwear, and his sweatpants.

‘Serves him right.’

Your attempts to twist out from his iron-clad hold only ground your ass more against the stiffness, earning a grumble from his lips.

“Oh? And who’s fault is it?” You retort, still protesting in his hold.

Snaking one hand downwards Alhaitham presses against your lower stomach to arch your ass further into him. Leaning his face closer to yours.

“Do you want me to take responsibility?” His whisper ghosts over the shell of your ear.

You could feel the pads of his fingertips tracing under the loose button-down.

“Shouldn’t you resolve the issues you’ve caused?” A huff leaves you.

The outline of his shape pressed along your skin, the plushness of your bottom contrasting against the rigidity.

“I can say the same to you.”

The pads of his fingers trail up your heated skin, crawling along your torso, feathering touches alighting your senses like sparks. Massaging the tired yet restless muscles. You sigh in contentment.

The billowing button-down dragged up by his vascular hand, unveiling your skin to the cool sheets. Wandering touches slow as they rest in the valley of your breasts. His fingers enclose around one mount, gently twisting the defenseless nipple.

“H-hey! Hmph-“ Barely catching a moan before it fled past sealed lips.

“Hm?” His lips are now right next to your ears. “Surely you foresaw this, I’m just helping my wife with all her excess energy.”

His forgotten hand made its presence known as it kneaded your hips, cunning touches breaching under the feeble defenses of your panties. Effortlessly brushing them to the side, long fingers encroaching closer to their destination.

Your thighs react, squeezing together to prevent him from venturing further. Unfortunately, it was all in vain, for his fingertips already dipped into an all too familiar sap.

“See, you seem quite eager,” he taunts.

Stubbornly, your body attempts to buckle away from his influence. Face firmly pointed away from his lest he peeks at your heated cheeks.

Alhaitham abandons the perch on your breast, two large hands attempting to tame the bucks and rolls of your hips. He releases a slow sigh into the crook of your neck.

“Are you not feeling it tonight?” His hands remain where they were, but the strength missing.

At the lack of resistance, your hips seem to have lost interest in their writhing, staying within his yielding hold. Internally, you chiding your body for being so straightforward. The only thing blocking an answer from exiting your throat was that fickle ego of yours.

“Won’t you allow me to make up for my blunders today, wife?” He soothes his hand along your leg.

With that stubborn ego of yours still biting down on your tongue, you simply nod your head. Feeling the heat of your cheeks reflected to you by the pillow.

Permitting your thighs to give into the tow of his grasp. Allowing the grip of one large hand to pull your bent leg open, exposing your vulnerable cunt. Shielded from the view of the raindrops by a mere blanket.

The hand snaked under your waist took swift advantage of the oppurtunity. Sliding one firm finger down to part the fold of your slit as his warm hand cups your greed.

Alhaitham continued with the caresses of his fingers. Your lashes and lips pressed tightly shut, your leg still held in his tender hold. His slow breaths brush ghosting your skin.

He spreads the slick along your slit, the tips of his fingers ever so often knocking against the bud at the very top. Teal eyes catch the sudden jolts of your body every time it happens.

He moves his fingers downwards, slowly parting the now soft folds of your core. Feeling the subtle puckers of your entrance as his touch traced closer, more wetness dribbling out from the honeypot.

The tip of his finger now encircles the fluttering hole. Your hip subtly bucked into his hand, as if to lure him in a soundless plea.

Breaths getting deeper as your eyes follow his touch, the warm pad of his index finger twirling against your clit. Stoking a burgeoning fire with each slow circle. Your placid sighs fill the lull.

His middle finger ventures past the entrance of your satin walls welcomed with a lewd squelch. Curling his finger against slick walls to test the give, he wonders if this hidden oasis is etched into his shape yet.

Diligently, his digit continues to sink in and out of your weeping hole, making your teeth sink into the flesh of your bottom lip. The squelches increased in volume as trickles of nectar began pooling on the sheets. Walls clamping around a lonely finger, it wasn’t enough to quell that mounting heat within.

A second deft finger joined in, sliding past a hungry entrance. A tangled dance amongst gummy walls as they curled and stretched the space. The lewd squelches resounding in your ear, a whimper trapped in your throat. The heel of his warm palm now pressed flat against the soft mound of your cunt, every movement of his hand resulting in a grind against your clit.

Each grind causes a hot flash to shock throughout your body, starting from your curled toes to the very top of your head. The jostling of your hips and legs gradually expels the blanket off the bed.

“Mmph!” A whine from a sudden surge of bliss when his thick fingers curled against a spongy patch deep within.

“T-there! More there!”

Your body writhes, no longer docile under the white searing pleasure frying the ends of every nerve within your being.

He gladly obliges. Unrelenting rhythm slipping in and out of your convulsing walls. Ensuring to grind against that spongey patch.

Your body twitches and flails in reaction. Trying to find some way to handle this surcharge of sensations.

Legs instinctively wanting to shut together as if to cease this turbulent sensation, unfortunately, your pitiful strength gave no resistance against his rigid hold.

Piqued by the sweet tune, Alhaitham watches the scrunch in your trembling brows. He repeats his actions, another mewl leaves your lips as your head leans further into his shoulder.

The mellow pace of his fingers suddenly amps up, retreating out only to clap back in as his palm presses into the twitching bud.

“Ah! Haitham.”

A pressure mounting up, a sirens call beckoning you closer and closer to a hazardous cliff’s edge. The only foundation for your sanity is thousand-count fabric, thus you twist the silk fibers as tremors overtake your body.

Walls clamping down to trap his thick digits inside as it spasms. Muscles tensing and quivering as your back arches away from his chest, parted lips with nothing choking past them.

Three thick fingers sink deeper into your pussy without a hint of resistance, as a reward he makes sure to roll your overstimulated clit in firm circles with his palms. Judging from the violent tremors in your legs, it seemed you were almost there.

Just at the cusp of rapture when your hand tangles into his ashen-locks, canting your head back so that your panting lips could capture his. Alhaitham returns to gesture with just as much fervor in his kiss, swallowing down your sweet mewls for himself.

With a singular gasp, the siren’s call had beckoned your sanity to drown in the murky depths. It’s as if you lost control of your body to the possession of pleasure.

Eyes rolled back and lips broke away as breathy moans escaped the prison of your throat, a haze heavy over your thoughts, pride long lost amongst the gale of an orgasm.

The beckoning depths of euphoria welcome your descent.

Your limp frame rests against him. A light layer of sweat coating your panting chest, blurred vision merging and blending the details of the ceiling above the bed.

Alhaitham coaxes the contractions of your core, riding out the waves of their squeezes and sucks against his fingers. Earning an addictive whimper from you when his digits pulled away. Entranced by the glimmering string of nectar stretching between his fingers and your oasis.

Trailing back up to your face, he notes the return of your hazy irises from their ogle of the bedroom ceiling.

“Better?” Teal gaze watching the pants of your chest as they steady.

‘No, not at all’, a statement just at the tip of your tongue, but your lips were busy attempting to grasp deep breaths. The surplus of vigor festering into unquenchable desire. To be closer, deeper, more. You needed more.

Where words fail, action must take its place. Even before your mind finishes up the scheme brewing within, your lips catch him off guard, plush lips embracing his in a tender waltz.

Your body rolls back so that your breast can press against his chest through the thin fabric of his stolen shirt.

At the tender caress of your kiss, teal eyes disappear behind ashen lashes, the clasp of his grip loosening. Allowing you the mobility to finally pull your body on top of his, lips never once parting until you were finally settled atop his broad body.

A certain stiffness makes its reintroduction against your roused clit.

Breaking the seal of the kiss as a line of salvia stretches between your tongues, arms pushing against his firm chest to prop your body up as you gaze down at him.

“Still have too much energy?” Haughty eyes peer into yours, yet you can see the ardor oh so thinly concealed behind the brilliant teal.

“What do you mean? Aren’t you the eager one?” You hum, rolling your hips against the rigidness trapped behind the prison of sweatpants.

“Hmm.” He sucks in a breath through his teeth.

Large hands feel down along the plumpness of your ass as they drag a flimsy bit of fabric down your thighs. Daintier hands pull down the hem of sweatpants and briefs.

A fair exchange. Him helping you out of those ruined panties, and you freeing him from a compressed prison of cloth. Discarded and forgotten along the floorboards as the fog of passion obscured them from further consideration.

His vascular hands slide down the curves of your body, settling on your hip as your legs plant themselves on either side of his body. Alhaitham coaxes the hem of his stolen button-down just above your midriff. Sharp eyes surveying the puffiness of your clit, glistening with temptation.

Lowering your hips a breathy sigh leaves his lips and yours as the ridges of his cock drag against your slick folds. A few slow rolls starting from his leaking tip sliding down, thick veins skimming against your swollen clit. Precum mixing with arousal in a sinful concoction along his length.

Perhaps he should convince you to participate in more naps if he knew it’d make you this excitable.

“Oh,” you hum aloud, pausing your hips as you reach over to the bedside table.

Pulling open the drawer and rustling about a box followed by the crinkling of foil. Holding up the corner of the packet to your lip, tearing the foil while your gaze held his. Taking your time in dragging the condom out from its package. Easing it down his length while your fingers traced along, feeling each twitch and shudder.

“You sure do know how to test my patience.”

“Hmm?” You feign innocence.

A pair of shaky breaths mingle as Alhaitham helps position his engorged tip at your dripping entrance. Your hand guides him while raising your hips.

Other hand pressing his chest down for support as your thighs sink back down, a shameful squelch accompanying heavy breaths as your walls welcome his cock’s fat head.

Weeping pussy engulfing his girth in bit by bit until you clit kisses his pelvis. Sending jolts of searing pleasure that caused your satin walls to twitch and tighten.

Releasing a breathy sigh as you gather your senses.

Drawing out his cock inch by thick inch, sloppy trails of arousal caught on each ridge before dropping back down. Earning low grunts and sighs each time your satin walls swallowed his girth. The rhythm of your hips is paced and controlled despite how Alhaitham’s fingers dug into your skin.

A whine living your drooling lips with each slap of his skin against your clit. Pushing each tantalizing inch to stroke your starved walls until his skin claps against yours with a wet kiss. The bedframe creaks with each calculated movement, back and forth, back and forth the wood sings along.

Your head was light, intoxicated by a feverish potion of lust and desire. Feeling him reach the deepest depths, fat tip grinding against those spots which made your legs falter momentarily each time.

Utilizing the strength of both your arms now to support yourself. However, the jolts of pleasure that shot up your spine with each roll of your hips were too maddening to stop.

His calloused fingers massage circles into your hips. Squeezing the plush flesh to ground his sanity, watching your lewd face as you shamelessly bounced on him for your pleasure. Observing the subtle ripples with each slap of your hips and the jumps of your perky breast.

The ghostly touches of your fingers skim across his lips, prompting his eyes to connect with yours. Lush and glossy lips parted with your deep pants as your lust-hazed eyes peer down at him, unspoken plea inscribed within them. Who is he to not fulfill your desires?

Lurching his upper body up, he answers your plea, capturing your lips with his. Swiping his tongue against your bottom lip, deepening the kiss. A messy and feverish tangle as if to replace the air in your lungs with his.

Mewls and whimpers muffled by his skin, your hands moving to perch themselves on his broad shoulders. Your quivering legs grew limp as the strength of his hands took over. Barely processing the sweet nothings whispered as your core relishes in the fullness. Like an ache that’s been finally satisfied.

He wondered if tonight’s excessive vigor was fraying his control, or if your body was just this addictive.

By now any notion of decency and integrity has long left you, your hand clawing into his shoulders, marking him with the scars of rapture. A harsh thrust of his hips recoils through you, a wanton moan reverbing off the walls as it forces your tangled lips to part.

Tongue unable to produce anything other than strained moans, your head nods into his broad shoulder as your hips ground against his. The wet squelch announces the reciprocation of your walls.

The intervals of those unrelenting rams increasing between the tender thrusts, half-lidded eyes trained on the shivers of your body. Cock sliding against satin ridges of your wall. Grunts and pants reverberate through his throat, teeth clenching as your heat engulfs him again. Reaching deeper into your welcoming core as your lips fall open.

“Is this not enough?” You could feel the mirth in his whisper.

Closer, deeper, more. You want more. Walls aching for more, for his girth to jostle your core more, to extinguish this all-consuming heat within you. Hips floundering in harmony with breathy mewls.

Pressing libidinous kisses along his throat feeling the vibrations of his grunts and pants, a deep chuckle was soon felt against your lips.

“Good grief you are a greedy little thing aren’t you.”

A deafening slam of skin resounds through the heavy air, swiftly followed by another and another. A new tempo in this waltz of passion takes over like a wave sweeping both of you out to a sea of indulgence.

Possessed by the desperation of chasing a white light, your hand rakes deeper into his toned arms. Seizing anything to prevent your mind from abandoning your sinful body as his girth twitches within your velvety folds.

Sanity like a foolish sailor who’s beckoned by the lure of a siren’s voice, uncaring of the rocks which will sink them to the very bottom of the bemused tides. Keening against your husband shamelessly, a shameless wife on the cusp of her second fall into ecstasy.

The heavy scent of lust, the smothering heat, his unrelenting and unshakable thrusts amalgamating into the spark that lit your nerves alight. Toes arched into the air and eyes reaching the back of your head. Sobs and incoherent babbles resounding through the room.

Your devious walls clamped around his dick with maddening convulsions, gummy muscles suckling against his girth eager to quell your aching greed. It was too much.

His fingers claw into your soft hips, pressing your cunt flush against his hips with a sloppy slap of skin. The bulbous tip prodding against that weakness deep within you. Bruising grip holding your body in place as his lips crash back into yours.

Swallowing down his breathless groans with your sweet mewls and praddles.

A heat is spilled into the rubber, making your greedy walls quiver amidst the aftershocks of ecstasy. Alhaitham’s hips twitch with each subsequent rip of his orgasm, thrusting his length further into your crowded cavity with each one. The filthiness of it all prolongs your sinful depravity.

Chest expanding with pants, your lopsided shirt falling further down your shoulder. Your eyes return from seeing blinding white, exhaustion drenching each fiber of your body.

Limp figure crumbling against your husband as his back lays back on the creaking headboard. Even before your worn mind could conjure a coherent thought, your hands caress his starlight tresses.

As his own breath evades him Alhaitham releases one hand to cup your cheek, thumb brushing softly against your smoldering skin, guiding your lips back to his.

Basking in the warmth forged between your bodies, between drumming heartbeats and breathless lungs.

Two bodies lay under silken sheets, skin freshly wiped clean of sweat as the crisp breeze brushed against the curtains gradually erasing the sinful haze. The cool air aids your rising and falling chest to pace itself.

Muscles and bones heavy with fatigue, yet your eyes couldn’t bring themselves to retire behind shut lids. Not when those dreary clouds have finally retreated.

The moon hangs high in the sky, finally free from the shroud of rain clouds, she sits among the twinkling dots. Twinkling dots were in actuality brilliant stars, some even larger and brighter than the beloved sun.

Glimmering lustrously as they traverse through the contentious vacuum of space and past other nameless stars. A scene from a late-morning market trip wanders its way back from the depths of your memory, bringing its musings with it.

“Something on your mind?” A timbre voice beckons your conscious mind back from its trek.

Teal eyes set upon yours as your heads rest on plush pillows, just a breath away from one another.

“Hm, just senseless musings.” Your gaze shifts away from the window.

In a changed world with millions of hands will your hands and his find each other to make two pairs of hands?

In a different time with a million pairs of legs, will your steps and his steps still coincide in time with each other

In a new life with a sea of new faces, will a stoic face and another stoic face spot each other in the crowd?

What is the likelihood of those odds?

“If you keep letting your thoughts fester, it’ll only bring trouble upon yourself in the morning from sleep deprivation.” He shifts his position, supporting his cheek on his fist as he stares down at your face.

You sigh because he spoke exactly what those whispers of rationale were urging you, but the scoffs of pride had deemed these rampant inquiries ‘childish’. However, it’s a bit hard to avoid his eyes now.

“I was just musing about the soulmates concept again,” you confess.

Alhaitham hums in curiosity.

“Do you…” You take a deep breath, forcing the hard-to-vocalize question from your tongue. “Do you think we’ll only be together in this life?”

He’s silent. Just the muted chorus of Summer crickets rejoicing over the conclusion of a rainstorm resounding through the space.

“In a different time, a different universe, or the next life, do you think we’ll be soulmates again?” You muster together the courage to peer up at his face.

“I don’t recall ever reading an article or paper related to this topic, so it’ll be convoluted to get an answer.” He brings his other hand to his face, signifying his musings.

Right, there isn’t even a definitive answer for what happens after life passes, an afterlife, a cycle, or nothing, no one knows. Was this the only universe where life exists or are there infinitely many far out there in the stars? Does anyone know?

Your hand pulls your blanket up to your face, partially to cover the growing shame creeping up your face. That haughty voice within was right, these baseless questions are silly and childish. Perhaps even too morbid to bring up so unprompted on this weekend night.

What were you expecting Alhaitham to even do? Did you want him to give you an answer? What can he even do? A question you can’t even begin to understand, why would you even expect him to have some solution prepared?

What to do now? Can you just take back your previous words from his memory, so he’ll just forget what you said? Maybe just ask him to quell any more mindless musings from plaguing you tonight by placing his lips on your forehead? So that you could finally drift into the realm of slumber.

However, is that temporary solution enough? Enough to stifle the contentions and riddles clattering together into a clamorous ruckus in your head? Could sleep even spare you from their tumult?

“The Membrane Multiverse Theory or reincarnation, hm, do you have any personal theories you’d like to share?” The sensation of his fingers grasping yours brings you back to reality.

Glancing at him with a quirk in your brow, you wait for him to continue.

“Who knows, maybe we’ll be the first to publish something for this topic.” His thumb runs along your knuckles.

“So, is there a speculation or possible rationale you feel particular to?” Teal eyes reconnect with yours.

“Well…” You sigh, relishing in the warmth of his hand as you concoct a half-baked theory.

“There’s stardust from stars that had burst billions of years ago, that have somehow ended up on this planet. Subsequently, every being on earth has the atoms of stars in them. So, naturally by the law of conservation, the earth is where the atoms of the human body will return.”

“Based on the law that atoms cannot be created or destroyed?” He drones.

“Yes, they all had to come from something before them. The carbon in muscles, the calcium in bones, and the iron in blood. The atoms that make up you and I might become part of something else, or even of different people too.”

“Hm, that sounds probable.”

“But, then this brings up a whole new host of questions, such as, if the new people our atoms become a part of are even ‘us’? Will they ever meet? What if you become a tree and I a rock? What if the atoms of you end up on one side of Teyvat and I on the other end?”

You peer into his irises, but you were just searching for an answer that isn’t there.

For his beryl irises were impassive. But it was the impassive foundation you needed to ground your rambling thoughts and nonsensical musings into the desolate truth of it all.

The warmth of his hand slips away.

“Never mind, I suppose it’s the most logical to conclude that we’re just soulmates in this instance of time, in this universe, and only here.” Your hand closes over the empty space he left.

Maybe it’s wise to dismiss it as silly rambling and then withdraw from his indecipherable eyes. Is it too late to put this plan into motion now?

The weight of a muscular arm is draped over your waist, hand pulling you closer unlike your ploy to escape.

“But I have a few theories I haven’t shared yet.” He glances out toward the bedroom window.

“While the theory of reincarnation currently doesn’t have any solid scientific backing, in some way, the law of conservation of mass does give a bit of merit to that notion.” Alhaitham draws circles into the small of your back.

You hum in response.

“The atoms that created us will return to the earth after us and become a part of something or someone else’s molecular structure. A tree or a rock, a human or a beast, it’s all probable. However…” Beryl eyes return to meet yours.

“What’s stopping them from repeating the same molecular structures as right now?” He asks.

Maybe it was his turn to peer into your eyes to search for an answer, an answer currently brewing and forging between your united gazes.

“What’s stopping these atoms from returning to these exact molecular structures in the future? In a different time, the atoms of us now could one day in the far future come together again and make ‘us’ once more. Maybe just you, maybe just me, or maybe both at the same time.”

He frees his other hand from the duty of supporting his head, broad body settling down into the bed and blankets, allowing his face to move closer to your level upon his pillow.

“What’s the likelihood of those odds? Me and you again?” You ask.

Alhaitham pauses. All the bright minds of science, mathematics, and physics, have yet to come up with a formula to calculate such a thing.

What would be the factors plugged into the equation? And how accurate would it even be?

The ashen-haired man wasn’t sure, but there was at least a statistical observation that would provide some basis.

“A true 0% chance is an absolute impossibility, just as nothing can be proven absolutely 100%. Since we don't know the absolutes of time, existence, or physics. So, there’ll always be a non-zero chance.” Feeling the drums of your heartbeat against his chest.

“Then, when they do, I think I’ll spend my life pondering what could fit into the spaces between my fingers like this.” He slips his hand into the gaps of yours, intertwining them.

Then finally, he saw the smile he’d been yearning for rising on your lush lips. The ends of your eyes crinkle as it make its way to your irises as well. Your grip mirrors his as you nestle your face closer to his.

“You won’t get tired of this stoic face?” You taunt.

“Will you get tired of mine?” He counters.

Your shoulders quiver with stifled giggles.

“No, no I won’t,” you promise him.

“Then I won’t,” he promises back.

His larger hand brings yours closer to himself, all the while your attentive eyes watch failing to keep the curl of your lips under control.

“Any thoughts on the Membrane Multiverse Theory? How will your astute mind surmise the possibility of us laying like this somewhere else in the stars?” Honeyed-voice mimicking awe as your face inches closer.

“I believe I’ve shared enough, I’d much rather hear what your brilliant postulate is.” His tone casted with mirth, but the bite missing from teal eyes.

Letting a soft hum, your mind rifling through all the paragraphs and journals your hands had ever thumbed through.

The soft rhythm of his breaths kept time. Stringing the words together on your tongue, you hope this monologue of yours will provide some amusement for him.

“If universes are randomly put into 2 boxes of ‘yes’ and ‘no’, then on average the number of universes in each box would be the same. For every universe I’m not with you, there’ll be equally as many where I am with you.”

A coin toss, perhaps it was all just a coin toss after all. Whether or not the Akasha paired a stoic face with another stoic face, for the gaps of your fingers to fit his so perfectly.

It could have all been a coin toss, for one half to stumble upon the other half cruelly parted from them by the hands of unseen gods.

“Something akin to a bijection existing between both sets of universes?” He cross-examines.

“Maybe… If we were to assign one type ‘yes’ to a positive integer, and the other type ‘no’ to a negative integer, then perhaps we can construct a bijection from the positive and negative integers.” Your brow furrows in contemplation.

“If we submit this theory do you think the Akademiya would publish it?”

“Not likely, bijections are usually made between sets of elements like numbers, not sure if bijections can be applied to something like whole universes. I’m just hypothesising nonsense,” you sigh.

“But they did publish the nonsense known as The Lifespan of Love,” he interjects.

“Hm, then maybe there’s a non-zero chance they’ll publish our nonsense too.” You stifle a scoff.

“Hm,” Alhaitham hums in amused agreement.

His free hand pulls the covers further up over your frame then smoothing out the wrinkles. Observing the growing delays between your slowing blinks.

“Only you and I would turn pillow talk into an academic deliberation.” You couldn’t hold back the giggle any longer.

He sighs in agreement, nestling his head closer to yours on the plush pillows, teal gaze never once leaving yours.

“It’ll make any romantic keel over and die from how dry it is, wouldn’t it, Haitham?”

“I say let them.”

Scoffing and shaking your head at his crude declaration as a yawn slips past your lips, a conclusion to this nonsensical academic deliberation.

With one hand still intertwined in the tender grasp of another you pull Alhaitham closer. So that the spaces of your body could lay against the spaces of his.

The warmth of his skin mingling with the warmth of yours, pressed against one another. You drawing mindless shapes into his back, his hand tracing senseless ruins into yours.

Perhaps, an illogical attempt to echt memories into the stardust in your bodies.

So he and you could imprint the memory of each other into the very fibers of your beings. Then maybe someday when these atoms return to these exact molecular structures, they’ll remember this too.

The law of conservation of mass, the probabilities upon probabilities, and bijections used in an inconsequential pseudo-academic ramblings to no one but an audience of silent stars.

Alhaitham’s certain no academic publisher would spare a glance at them.

But this nonsensical instance in the continuum of time, feeling the rhythm of your heart on the other side of his chest next to his own, is his most precious epiphany.

Fin~

©️vivalabunbun DON’T PLAGIARIZE, REPOST, OR TRANSLATE ANY OF MY WORKS.

#vivalabunbunfics #alhaitham smut #genshin smut #alhaitham x reader #genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #alhaitham fanfic #genshin impact x you #alhaitham x y/n #alhaitham fluff #alhaitham x you #alhaitham x female reader #genshin x reader smut #alhaitham x reader smut #alhaitham x yn #alhaitham x you smut #genshin fluff #genshin x reader fluff #genshin soulmates au

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mintmatcha · 1 year ago

Text

one, two, and....

Hanamaki x reader x Matsukawa

cw: cisfem reader, threesome, PIV sex, squirting

a/n: I've been working on this forever and I think it's time to release it into the world. Originally it was supposed to have three different endings to choose from, so maybe one day I'll release the Snyder Cut With all three lol!

"I've been thinking of starting an OnlyFans."

You and Makki turn to your friend, sharing identical blank expressions. Mattsun doesn't crack a smile, eyes never leaving the television screen. With a few swipes of his thumbs, the dark-haired man has knocked your video game character off of the map with absolutely no mercy, forcing you to half heartedly return to playing.

"You kinda gotta be hot for that," Makki chides. He's been dead for a while now, so he just tosses his controller to the side. He's on the other side of his friend, leaning back away from the arm of the couch with a half-cocked smile.

"I am hot. Like, really hot," Mattsun replies, "And I have a pornstar cock."

A heat washes over your face and drains down your whole body. You can't deny it: Matsukawa Issei is hot. Like, really hot. Even in the low light, with only the neon flickering of the television illuminating the sharp angles of his face, he's beautiful. Heavy lidded eyes and thin lips that break into a troublesome grin-- it's almost tragic how beautiful he is.

You'd give your right leg for either of them to think of you as anything other than a 'bro'.

"Shut the fuck up." You're jamming the controller too hard and the plastic whines under the pressure, " 'Pornstar cock.' As if. You're such an asshole."

"Nah, that's true. He does have a massive cock." Makki nods, sticking his tongue through the gap between his canine and molar. He's cuter than his dark haired friend, with round cheeks that dimple when he laughs and round eyes that almost disappear when he smiles. It's a different type of hot-- an imperfect one that you crave all the same.

"Oh, you've seen his dick?" you ask, a bit sarcastically. They did play sports in high school; it's possible a penis popped out in the changing rooms.

"Duh." Makki puffs his chest, "We've had a threeway."

That's news. A sticky, dark feeling clings to your chest. It's wrong of you to want either of them, and yet you want both-- the idea that someone else beat you to it makes your stomach flip.

“It was a good one too.” Mattsun says. He doesn't even bawk, clearly more concerned with the game than this.

“Aww, it’s always good with you, babe.” Makki blows a kiss, with a flourish of his wrist, "That hand job? Phenomenal."

Your character dies in a blaze of color and lights, it's sad little noise soon drowned out by victory music. Mattsun tosses his controller to the side, pumping his fist in a rather calm victory. You quickly exit out of the game and let the opening screen loop, your mood soured.

"You guys are just fucking with me,” you grumble.

“Like I’d ever joke about sex.” Makki sends you a wink and you hate that it makes your cheeks a little hot.

“It’s the only thing he takes seriously," Mattsun agrees. They both elbow each other conspiratorially, sharing a laugh that might be at your expense. Mattsun’s dark eyes flicker to you and his wolfish smile grows toothier as he draws his gaze down, raking over every inch of your body. Oh, they are definitely lying. Your jealousy immediately drains from your body.

“Are you -?”

You interrupt Mattsun before he can even finish.

“Prove it then."

Both men turn in unison, Makki’s eyes wide and Mattsun’s narrowed.

“Prove you’re had a threesome,” you clarify with a shrug. Your voice is dripping with victory and you can barely keep the grin from your face.

“How can we prove that?” Mattsun laughs, “I didn’t take pictures.”

You pretend to think about it for a moment. “Kiss each other.”

“What?” It's Makki's turn to laugh.

“Kiss each other,” you repeat, making a jerk off motion in the air, “You guys rubbed cocks, but you won’t kiss? Really?”

They share a quick glance, communicating silently between themselves with fleeting expressions and pointing chins. Mattsun suddenly scoffs, turning back to you with a raised brow. Neither of them say anything and you know you’re won.

“‘I’m going to start an OnlyFans,’” you taunt, “‘I have a huge cock.’ ‘I’ve had so many threesomes.’ You’re such bad liars.”

Makki moves first. He presses forward on to his hands, gripping his friend’s thigh as he leans in head first. He lingers in the lack of space he's created, nose brushing up against his friends. They share a couple of unheard words before Mattsun closes the gap between them with a lazy tilt of his head, lips just barely touching the others in the faintest of kisses. Before you can claim that a kiss that chaste doesn’t count, Makki moves again, swinging a leg over to straddle Mattsun in a practiced move. You gasp out loud as they meet again, mouths parted and tongue sliding against each other.

Then, it’s a tangle. Mattsun’s fingers are woven into strawberry blonde hair, dragging him closer to catch Makki’s lip in between his teeth. He seems to enjoy the pain; Makki’s hums of approval rumble so deep you can feel it resonate in your chest, filling the space between your ribs with a burning desire. Hands wander, gripping shirts and hips and the back of each other's necks, barely giving them space to pull in a breath. It’s pornographic, the way they grind into each other, rutting like dogs. If it's an act- it’s a good one. Through the thick fabric of his jeans, you swear you can see the outline of Makki’s cock against his thigh, waiting for attention.

You want attention too-- you're dripping for it. You push back into the arm of the couch and clamp your legs together, hoping to smother the want that's built there. Part of you wonders if they’d ever notice if your hand slipped down the front of your pants; they’re so lost in the moment that you think they’ve forgotten you exist.

Just as you debate it, hand on the buckle of your belt, Makki’s head snaps your way knowingly. The dark haired man doesn't stop though; Mattsun's lips immediately latch onto the base of his neck, sucking a hickey on to freckled skin.

“C’mere.” There’s a pitch to Makki's voice as teeth sink in right before his Adam's apple. "C'mere."

There’s no time to hesitate. Makki’s hand clamps around your ankle and tugs, sliding you closer and trapping your legs between the men’s bodies. You barely manage to remain sitting up and you almost immediately regret not falling over. Makki is too close, watching you with a hazed over expression that makes your stomach twist tight.

Somehow, Mattsun is unphased, eyes so heavily lidded that you can barely make out how they flicker to you. At least, you think he’s unaffected, until one of his fingers catches under one of your belt loops. They pull you closer together, folding you until you're angled awkwardly beside them, legs still trapped.

"I-" you start, a pant to your voice. Sometimes you forget how tall they both are, but right now you are very aware; they both tower over you, a hunger in their eyes you barely recognize. "You guys-"

"Dude," Makki's breath tickles against your cheek, "Shut up."

"Yeah." Mattsun agrees into the soft of your neck, sarcastic as always, "Read the room."

The chaos of both of them slowly envelops you. Makki's lips meet yours as Mattsun's teeth nip and all you can do is gasp as every nerve in your body flares. It's overwhelming to be the center of both of their desires, being tugged and pulled back and forth, someone's hands digging into the soft of your stomach, someone else unbuttoning your pants.

When you break away to breathe, Mattsun is there, catching you right where Makki left off. He kisses differently- lazier, slower. His counterpart kissed you so roughly your lips burn where his teeth once were; Mattsun approaches with a feather touch, barely enough to satiate your need for him.

Hands snake across your back and around to your tits, greedily cupping them through your shirt. Somehow, you've migrated, now straddling Mattsun's lap with Makki at your back. Your bra gaps and gives and Makki grumbles in annoyance.

“Issei,” You’ve never heard Makki use his first name before, “Unhook her bra.”

Mattsun finishes the kiss, lingering, savoring, watching with his deep, dreamy eyes.

“Do it yourself.” His voice is practically a sigh. You want to melt into him, sinking into him to slot your mouths together.

"You know, last week Issei over here told me how bad he wants to suck your tits," Makki whispers into the shell of your ear. A warm touch slips under your shirt and your bra suddenly feels loose. You lean back enough to give the blonde enough space to go back to kneading your breasts and this time his long fingers roll your nipple between them, "He's been hard for you for a while now.'

A twitch has started in your legs, trembling tight as the hot feeling inside you screws tighter and tighter. The way your jeans sit gives you nothing to grind against, not even the rock hard cock that's pressed into your thigh. It's thick -- much thicker than you expected.

"I wanna suck them too, obviously," Makki continues, "I wanna put my mouth everywhere."

He pecks your earlobe. "Wanna suck your clit while you struggle to take Issei's cock."

Mattsun hums in approval as he grabs your hips, tugging your hips impossibly closer, "If she can even take it."

That turns your core molten. They want you-- they want you the way you want them. You wish they'd keep talking and blab about all of their dirty whims and wants-

"Yeah," you breathe, "Yeah, I can take it."

Mattsun slips his hand from your legs and ghosts them up to your waistband. The open button of your jeans makes it easy for him to slide in, dipping down under your panties. His fingers are wide, brushing against the cleft of your pussy delicately.

"She isn't shaved." He talks like you aren't there, looking over your shoulder to his friend.

"Oh, I like that," Makki chirps. The ministrations haven't stopped; he's still rolling and squeezing and pinching, watching for what makes you wiggle and gasp. He finds a good motion just as the heel of Mattsun's palm grinds against your clit. Those massive fingers waste no time, forcing their way inside you. The suddenness stretches you tender.

All three sensations combine and suddenly your brain is fuzzy-- your eyes can even stay focused. It's too much, it's not enough; you squirm and you can't tell if you're trying to get away or get more.

"Oh shit," Mattsun chuckles, scissoring his fingers side to side. This time you yelp-- mostly out of surprise -- and that spurs him on further. "There's no way you're fitting me. Fuck, I don't know if you'd fit Hiro."

"You're making me sound shrimpy."

"Shrimpier than me."

"I'm not shrimpy! Dude's like, inches longer than the national average. I've checked."

"You named your cock Dude?"

"Oi, it's a good-"

You cut in, voice flat. You love them both, but the quips just aren't that sexy when you're those horny, "Please stop doing-- that--" Oh, your voice is broken/, "You're killing my orgasm."

"Oh shit, you gonna cum?" Mattsun realizes, grinding back down again. That sparks something in you again, but not quite as bright, but your body cramps at the thought of not chasing it. "You that sensitive?"

"Love an easy girl," Makki chirps.

"I was going to-" You shook a glance between them, both sheepish and grinning- "until you guys opened your mouths."

"Aw, does that mean the threesome is off?" Makki says that as he's lifting your shirt up. You help, letting him strip your top bare.

"No," you admit in a low voice, "I wanna keep going.”

They exchange a look and you swear they are mentally high fiving each other. You wriggle off your pants and they both sudden spring into action, afraid of this moment passing by.

"You should ask Hiro to fuck you first." Mattsun pulls his own shirt off, "Let him stretch you out nice and good for me."

"Nah, fuck Issei first," Makki is quick to say, "I like sloppy seconds."

You don't have to think about it.

"Mattsun."

You're too greedy to wait.

Mattsun dips his thumbs under your panties and gently lowers them as he dips his face into the crook of your neck. There’s a surprising amount of stubble on his face- more than you’ve ever noticed before- tickling the softest softs of you. “These are really cute by the way.”

You clearly weren’t expecting to get dick today; you’re in your full coverage, full butt panties, the ones that hang out in the back of your drawer and digs a bit too much into your hips. “Really?”

He tries to bite back his smile, tongue poked deep in his cheek as he helps you off of the couch and onto the floor. You can’t help but wonder the last time these guys vacuumed as you watch the brunette lay down, urging you on to this lap with gentle hands. You end up on his thighs, just low enough that the lump in his pants is right above you.

"Yeah. They’re like, I dunno, homey. Comfortable. " He runs his hand up your sides. The other man doesn’t join; Makki just scooches the coffee table over with his foot to clear a space for him to watch. His palm is pressing into the noticeable swell on his pants as he watches, eyes flickering between the two of you. Suddenly, your least favorite pair of underwear is your favorite. You can't help but preen and pose, arching your back and cupping a tit coyishly.

"You just gonna sit there and watch?" you tease, even though your heart is racing, “It’s not really a three way without you.”

"Hey, this is free OnlyFans content! I’m gonna enjoy it!” He jerks his chin towards his friend, "Plus, I wanna see your reaction.”

Your eyes roll themselves at that. You turn back to Mattsun, waiting for him to laugh or tease, but he just watches you back, an overly cocky smile smeared across his lips.

“Are we really going to pretend your cock is that big?” You let your fingers trail down his bare chest and hope he can’t feel like them tremble. God, you can see it kick through the denim. It’s getting harder and harder to tease him now that they both know you want this.

“You’re so right,” Mattsun’s voice drips with sarcasm, “I’m tiny.”

He finally pops the top to his jeans and snakes them down. The light blue pattern of his briefs does nothing to conceal the growing sticky stain that's formed on the front. Most of his length is still hidden under the denim, but the bit you can see is….

Fuck, that that cannot be a cock. Maybe a fucking TV remote.

“So fucking small, huh?” You realize you’re making a face when he starts laughing.

“What a shame,” he continues as he frees the rest, “Hot guy with a micro-- you should pity fuck me or something.”

It’s pretty. That’s the fucked up part about it. The head is a soft pink, glazed wet with precum, fading into a surprising tan color. It’s thicker than your wrist, with a single vein down the underside and would be perfect to drag your tongue across. Mattsun gives himself a single, slow pump, pulling a perfect droplet of clear liquid from his slit. With the other hand, he takes your wrist and pulls your touch to his, letting you grip his length. Your thumb and middle finger barely connect.

“Hey, Issei?”

“Yeah?”

Your fingers pulse, testing the firmness. There’s some give-- he’s not even fully hard.

“You were right, this is a pornstar cock.”

Mattsun rolls his eyes and gives you another toothy grin. His legs spread wider, therefore spreading yours too- so far that your labia slips free from the short fabric of your panties. The damp skin feels cold against the air, but the heat of anticipation is making you sweat.

“I told you.” Makki chimes in. You hadn’t realized that he had moved until his voice was rumbling against the fat of your ass. He’s the one who’s spread Mattsun’s legs, crawling in between them on hands and knees to press kisses against your back. “You gonna take it?”

You’re not sure you can. It’s a comical amount of dick, but your pride won’t let you back out. “I’ve taken bigger.”

“Oh yeah?” Your underwear digs further into your skin as Makki tugs it to the side and completely frees your cunt. “‘cause it looks pretty small back here.”

With a squelch, two fingers slip easily into you, reaching and curling deep. A moan hits you like a punch, crumpling you at the waist. Hands on Mattsun’s shoulders, you just brace yourself as Makki eases out and pushes back in, this time a bit slower.

“Are you sure you aren’t a virgin?” He wriggles for effect and your body clenches around him in response.

“Oi, lemme feel.” Mattsun’s hand pushes through the petals of you. Just as you think Makki’s going to pull away to give Mattsun space, the stretch grows more intense; two sets of hands are crammed into you, knuckles brushing against each other, and it makes your vision starred.

“Oh-” Your voice hollows out on you, “My god--”

It’s all you can do to take it, letting them squelch and move and prod asynchronistically. It’s clumsy and strange and honestly a bit weird, but your body seems to disagree; excitement is literally dripping from you, running down your thighs and smearing across their hands, popping and slicking and practically leaking. They’re treating you like a toy, you realize, exploring instead of trying to please you.

Someone's talking. Your brain tries to fight through the fog of pleasure to figure out what's being said, but the pulses and twitches of pleasure running through every muscle in your body are simply louder. Everything inside you is teetering towards the brink in a way you're never felt before. It's not like any other pleasure you've ever felt-- it's internal, it's uncomfortable, it's----

And everything lets go. You're cumming, you think. You realized your eyes have been closed this whole time, too absorbed in what's happening inside you.

"Ohmygodohmygod." It's been your voice this whole time. When you finally come down, you realize the two have gone still, just watching you.

"Damn." Makki whistles low."Do you always squirt?"

Oh, you burn with embarrassment. You tey to close your legs but there's two men in between them. "I've never done that before."

"That's so hot."

“Fuck,” Mattsun is trying to angle your hips with one hand and adjust his cock with the other, angling for your hole, “I’m gonna cum so quick, it’s gonna be embarrassing.”

Trepidation turns your stomach. You're wet all the way down your thighs, but Mattsun is a monster-- it's going to ache no matter what.

"Go slow, okay?"

"Aw, you'll take what I give you." Mattsun rolls his eyes with a smile, running his cock head through your folds. His cock slips and misses a couple times, prodding where it shouldn't be.

"You're embarrassing me," Makki whines, "Let me fucking do it."

Two fingers spread your pussy lips open wide. You can't see, but the strawberry blonde must be holding his friend's cock now because it immediately finds where it wants to be; the head catches against your opening and sinks in ever so slightly. You have to will yourself to relax and not fight the intrusion-- even though the stretch is wild//.

"Hey," Makki taps your thigh and you realize you're shaking. The pleasure and the discomfort are different sides to the same coin- both make your toes curl and your breath hitch as Mattsun sinks deeper and deeper.

"You have a pornstar pussy, baby." A finger runs over where your body meets cock and you can feel how taut you're stretched. Your body pulses at that realization and it rips a groan from the man under you. "It's so sexy to see you get ruined like that."

"Oh, it feels so fucking good too," Mattsun gasps. He looks so good like this, with pink cheeks and sweat touched hair. His pretty lips are pressed together with effort, trying to hold himself steady and he carefully gives you more and more.

Fuck, you swear you can feel him in your guts and he's not even halfway in. Your toes are curling from the pressure alone, but you refuse to make any noise about it; you’re not going to stroke his ego anymore. You can handle him putting it in-

"I'm gonna eat your ass-- is that cool?"

Makki doesn't wait for a reply. The sloppy wet prod of his tongue against your skin is the breaking point. It feels strange and wrong in the most delightful ways and your body absolutely betrays you again; your head is absolutely swimming as you bump and grind into both men, taking more cock than you can handle as Makki defiles you-

“Yeah, squeeze tight,” Mattsun is jerking his hips up, driving into you with short strokes, “Holy shit, girl, you’re gonna make me look fucking stupid-- squeeze, that’s it--”

“I'm going to fuck you the second Issei is done with you, I swear to god--”

That sounds good to you. That sounds very good. You hum a little agreement, and Makki just laughs.

Hands are pressing down on your hips and you swat at the brunette in panic-- only to realize it’s not his hands that are rushing you. Makki, as he sucks and slobbers, is urging you down faster and faster, trying to get your hips against his friend’s. You try and obey, letting him greedily force you down, but a sharp twist of a cramp slowly starts to twist inside you.

“Hiro--” Mattsun sucks air through his teeth, eyes screwed tight, “Hiro, youch, she’s full. I’m touching her cervix.”

Your hips feel like they are miles away from Issei’s. Holy shit. Holy shit. It should be illegal to be that long. It hurts, it makes your insides twist--

But, damn, you kind of like it.

You press up on to your knees and sink down again, locking into the gentlest of rhythms. The aching slow movement is enough to make your body spark, electricity thrumming through your core and up your spine. The man under you can only watch, those puppy dog eyes wider and wetter with every stroke. Eventually he starts moving with you, bucking up into your cunt hesitantly.

The two loudest, most annoying men in your life are now silent, too focused on you to do anything else. All three of you just sort of click into a groove, grinding and bucking and loving and squeezing, your body coiling tighter and tighter, every muscle twitching and tense with need-

Somehow, you don’t cum first. Mattsun’s hands are suddenly everywhere, gripping your ass and rolling your nipple under his thumb. He fucks up into you hard and that sharp cramp returns, followed by a familiar pooling, wet warmth right against your deepest parts. You can feel the throb of his cock as he unloads, giving you every fucking drop he can. Issei’s lips are parts with effort, teeth marks imprinted on his lower vermillion. There’s almost a haze to his eyes, caught in his pleasure and still looking for you.

“Oh, shit-” he hisses mindlessly, “Oh, fuck, shit--”

It’s dripping from you and down Makki’s chin.

“You on birth control?” Issei asks weakly, all tension drained from his body.

“It’s a bit late to ask that,” Makki chimes in. The thinner man pushes you forward, shifting your weight onto your hands. Like this, Issei’s softening cock can’t stay in- it slides out with a dribble. Mattsun is now so much closer now, his face nearly nuzzling yours. Your eyes meet his, dark and tired, and you’re struck by the urge to kiss him properly.

You’re then struck by the sudden sensation of being stuffed.

Despite their teasing earlier, Hanamaki is //not// small. He's not inhumanely big like Mattsun, but you're aware of every inch, pressing almost as deep as before. The squelch of cum being displaced from you is loud and disgusting, but all three of you reveal in the sound.

“God, I love a fresh fucked pussy,” he coos. “You’re gaping and messy, baby.”

Where Mattsun moved slow, Makki does not. He's rutting into you hard, pushing you into Mattsun's chest. The man below you kisses your cheek with a laugh, clearly enjoying the faces you're making. You're wet down to your knees, smeared with a mixture of bodily fluids, and it offers no resistance for Makki as he enjoys himself.

It's like you're a toy, being used just for him pleasure, and you're body can't get enough.

“You gonna cum?” Mattsun asks mockingly. He just enjoy the sight, watching your tits hang against his chest. You almost say no, even though you're dangerously close to the edge again. “Ah, don't rush yourself. Hiro can last all night if you need it.”

“Hm, I'm just trying to give you some time to recover before round two,” Oh, you hate that he doesn't even sound phased, “I'm pacing myself.”

“Oh yeah?” Mattsun says.

Makki thrusts even harder, accenting his words. “How else are we supposed to go all night?

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eeldritchblast · 2 months ago

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Wyll Ravengard Deserves Healing Too

Every origin companion in Baldur’s Gate 3 is traumatized in some form or another, and they all deal with it in different ways. That is only realistic. But let’s take a deeper look at the inequality between how these stories of trauma are written and presented to the player. Because when we do that, it is extremely noticeable that there is one character who never receives the same level of catharsis bestowed upon everyone else: Wyll.

Shadowheart was abducted as a child to be raised in an abusive cult. When this is brought to light, the player is able to help her confront her abuser and find her parents again. Even if her parents die, Shadowheart is at least given closure; she has a whole scene in which we see her finally break down into tears, and the player can comfort her.

Gale ended up with an orb of Netherese magic inside him, ready to explode and destroy not just him but everything in his radius. He went into a deep depression and relied on Tara to keep him alive, pre-game. His goddess/ex-lover then tasked him with a suicidal mission. But Gale is able to confront Mystra and either regain her compassion or reject her and forge his own godhood. Either way, Gale is able to heal physically and emotionally.

Lae’zel, much like Shadowheart, was also raised in a torturous environment, only to realize that her Queen Vlaakith is nothing but an abuser and a user. She is able to ally herself with a rebellious faction rising against Vlaakith, not just freeing herself but potentially her entire People.

Karlach was betrayed by Gortash and sold to Zariel, who replaced her heart with an infernal engine, making it impossible for Karlach to keep living outside of the Hells. Even if she doesn’t end up with a cure, the player can at least help her confront Gortash, and like Shadowheart, she gets a whole special scene for her to finally work through her bottled up emotions.

Astarion was enslaved and tortured by Cazador for over two-hundred years, who would have used him in a ritual that resulted in his death. The player can help Astarion confront Cazador and potentially kill him, which leads to Astarion getting a small scene where he cries out in a mixture of emotions.

But what of Wyll? At just age seventeen he was given the choice of either selling his soul to Mizora, or see Baldur’s Gate fall to a dragon cult. The terms of his pact prevented him from telling the truth about the situation, resulting in his idolized father banishing him. Ever since, he was bound to Mizora, and we see how she treats him in game as if he’s a dog. Wyll is just as traumatized as his companions, and yet, where is the ability to comfort him? Where is his closure? It’s all disregarded, in favour of more content with Mizora.

Wyll’s personal quest at the start of Act Three has him forced to choose between giving up his soul to save his father, or freeing himself and seeing his father die. Now, it is possible – though difficult – for the player to rescue Duke Ravengard themselves even if Wyll breaks his pact with Mizora. But even if this is so, reading Mizora’s mind results in the player hearing her admit she will never stop trying to harm Wyll’s father.

The reason you can read Mizora’s mind is because she is just there, hanging out at your camp! There is even a sex scene between her and the player available! Just imagine for a second, if that was Cazador or Viconia in Mizora’s place. Mizora is nothing but Wyll’s tormentor, just like Cazador for Astarion and Viconia for Shadowheart, and yet she is permanently there, giving witty one-liners and trying to seduce the player. Attack her, and she only disappears to reappear again, unharmed. You cannot get rid of her, and it’s played for laughs.

Wyll deserves comfort. Wyll deserves a chance to show his emotions, too. Yes, I’m aware that part of his character is that he tries to downplay his concerns in order to maintain his heroic persona, but that just means it would have been even more powerful to finally gain his trust enough for him to share how he feels with the player, truly.

Wyll is the only Black companion – and only one of two visible characters of colour, period. (The other being Karlach, who while yes is a tiefling, based on her facial features in the full release of the game is East Asian.) It is hard to believe it is all just coincidence that it is the only Black companion was given no opportunity by the writers to receive any significant emotional support or show any significant relief from his trauma. Statistically, African Americans who need mental health treatments receive less than 50% of treatments that white Americans receive. This is despite African Americans having 20% more likeliness to undergo serious psychological distress than white Americans. [X]

No, Wyll Ravengard is not a real person, and I am not attempting to equate a fictional character to real life struggles. My point here, is that the way in which Wyll was written mirrors the way in which the mental health of Black men and boys in real life is systematically ignored and downplayed, with the belief that they can and must “tough it out”. My point here, is that I have a hard time believing the prejudices and stereotypes against Black people did not contribute to Wyll’s lack of content. Specifically, the lack of content related to his healing.

#wyll #wyll ravengard #bg3 #baldur's gate 3 #meta #racism

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hyuckwrlds · 7 months ago

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>> little light

wc: 635 happy birthday haechan

Haechan’s alarm is a blaring, obnoxious sound. It’s shrill and annoying and echoes off the walls of his bedroom, almost always waking you up before him. That’s why it’s a wonder that he’s able to sleep through it so soundly, face nuzzled blissfully into your hair as if his alarm was set to the sound of angels serenading him instead.

In retrospect, his alarm rarely does its job of waking him up. For some reason, it always has to be you.

“Haechan,” you mumble, patting lazily at the arm slung across your body. You don’t have to open your eyes to know he’s still asleep.

You pat him again. “Baby, your alarm.”

Somewhere behind you, you feel him stir, but he has yet to silence his phone. Instead, he only mutters something you can’t catch. You squint open your eyes to the faint light of sunrise seeping in through the window.

“Haechan,” you repeat, turning around in his hold. With the tip of your nose, you nudge him by the collar of his old teddy bear t-shirt. It had been your birthday gift to him some years ago but is now worn to the point where the print is beginning to fade. And despite all the shirts you’ve gotten him since then, none of them have ever been as loved as this one.

“Sorry,” he eventually replies, reaching over you to grab his phone sitting on the bedside table. Once the room settles back into silence, he resumes his original position, albeit holding you a little tighter under the sheets.

“Aren’t you supposed to be meeting with Chenle?” you ask sleepily, ducking your head beneath his chin.

You hear him stifle back a yawn. “He can wait.”

“I think we both know that he can’t,” you tease, reveling in the slow rise and fall of his chest.

Somewhere above you he snorts. “Well, he’s gonna have to. This is more important.”

He presses a kiss to your forehead and your heart swells with warmth. Even though this is how most mornings start when you two are together, you can’t help but be selfish for a little bit, indulging in his love for just a minute or two longer.

You’d never tell him but he’s right. Maybe nothing else matters when he’s by your side. But for now—

“Baby,” you start again. “You should get up.”

For now, you’d rather not be at the opposite end of Chenle’s annoyance.

Haechan takes a heavy breath before loosening his grip on you. “Fine. Hold on. Lemme just—”

He shifts back a little until you’re able to get a clear view of his face. He stares at you, with his messy hair and constellations of moles dotting his cheeks. You fight back the smile pulling at your lips. He’s just that cute.

You raise a brow. “Just what?”

“Let me look at you,” he says softly, smiling into the words.

There’s a roll of your eyes. “You look at me all the time.”

“Not like this.”

“What’s different this time?”

“Nothing,” he says before shrugging. “Everything.”

Sure, it’s a vague answer but with the way he looks at you, you’re certain you already know what he means. It’s not unlike the times when you’re out with friends and his gaze meets yours across the room—searching for the comfort of nothing other than knowing you’re there. The same rings true this morning.

Because despite his stupid alarm and the cracking print of his old t-shirt, everything is right. In this moment, it’s only you and him, and he’ll be damned if he lets Chenle get in the way of that.

“Good morning, beautiful,” he greets, running a hand along the side of your face.

You take his hand in yours, smiling over at him. “Good morning, Haechan. I love you.”

#not sure how i feel abt this one #but i wanted to get something out for his bday #haechan #haechan x reader #nct fluff #haechan fluff #nct x reader #haechan imagines #nct scenarios #nct dream fluff #nct 127 x reader #nct 127 fluff #haechan scenarios #hyuckwrlds

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starrynights-sunnyskies · 9 months ago

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mine to protect ⋆*·ﾟmisaxfemreader

the night you thought would be a lighthearted, fun time with some of misa's friends, ends with a different kind of bang you had originally anticipated. but when things go awry, you can always expect your girlfriend to be there.

(or; the mentioned club incident from mine to save)

tw: intimidation and harassment by a drunken fool. dw, sweet ending.

It was meant to be nothing more than a fun night out with friends now that most of them were in the area. It had been a spontaneous text by Jenni that had spurred the entire thing. The group had never been that good at planning things far in advance, with schedules changing and always full, but it seemed that most girls had at least a few hours to spare this Saturday night. And, well, while Misa’d had the day off entirely, she’d also mentally written your name in all caps in her agenda for this weekend as soon as she heard you’d be coming to see her. She hadn’t even realised the group chat had exploded until grabbing her phone to snap a picture of the two of you all cuddled up, something to add to her folder with pictures to cheer her up whenever you two were apart. It took her quite some scrolling to catch up, and when she saw the text that had initiated it all, she caught herself feeling a little indifferent. On one hand, she would love nothing more than to spend some time with her friends. On the other, she’d see most of them again soon during national camp. Plus, there was never enough time to spend with you. Sure, there were quick days in between matches you’d play near the other, but entire days spent together without worrying about the time were scarce. It was exactly why she’d been able to lose track of time for as long as she had, having you wrapped against her in her arms was far too valuable to her. You squirmed against her front, having lost your comfortable position as soon as Misa had shifted to reach for her phone.

With the curtains closed and the lights dimmed, Misa had turned her apartment into a cozy little bubble after the dinner you had made together. It was as if you were the only two people on earth. But that wasn’t a foreign feeling whenever Misa was around. Quite the contrary— you often suffered from severe tunnel vision whenever she was near. Even when she wasn’t in your direct line of sight, your heart would still quicken and there’d be an extra pep in your step and a shine to your eyes. Like a fool in love, you would perk up whenever she walked in, sought your eyes and sent you the most heartwarming grin. That grin of hers, whether the cheeky one or the adorable kind, had been one of the things that had instantly given her some of your heart. The two of you hadn’t even been properly introduced yet, she’d only acknowledged your presence for the time being with that damned grin, and you had felt your pulse quicken and your cheeks flush nonetheless. And then the nerves! She’d made you feel so nervous and giddy like some silly school girl whose crush finally decided to look her way. You’d felt pathetic when thinking about the encounter for the longest time until Misa had admitted to you that she’d put off introducing herself to you that day for so long, simply because she had been too nervous herself. It left you feeling a little alienated, knowing that you had been the one to leave your usual self-assured girlfriend feeling so insecure. Then you felt a little smug because of the exact same reason. Only you could make Misa feel that way, and that knowledge left you feeling euphoric.

A whine escaped your mouth as your back softly slid from Misa’s front to the back of the couch, watching as your girlfriend leaned sideways to type away on her phone that was still plugged in to charge.

Misa side-eyed you, and although she tried to hide it, you saw the tiny smirk wanting to pull at the corners of her lips. She quickly bit her lip before she could be caught red-handed, planted a kiss on your temple and pulled you against her again. Her fingers absentmindedly snaked underneath the sweatshirt you were wearing, one of hers, and softly brushed the skin of your waist. She typed away again.

“I think I like you better with both your hands on my waist.” You mumbled against her neck, feeling her muscles there tighten, signalling she was probably smirking again. Or still.

“Hm?” Misa quickly locked her phone, “Like so?” She turned to you, the arm around you pulling you back onto her lap, the hand on your waist snaking up your back and her free hand squeezing your thigh.

“Or more like this?” She looked up at you, eyes full with a type of fire that could only stem from pure love and adoration. Her nose nuzzled against your cheek before she planted some light kisses along your jaw. Your arms went to their designated spot around her neck as she continued to leave feather-like kisses along your skin. You let out a small sigh, bliss and a sense of belonging coursing through you. She softly pulled your face to hers by your chin and pushed you flushed against her before her lips found yours. Slow pecks and open mouthed kisses quickly deepened as your lips pressed against one another’s furiously and full of passion. But as you felt Misa start to play with the hairs in your neck, she also slowly untangled herself from your grip. Frowning, you quickly reared back.

“This is probably the worst time to tell you that the others are on their way here?” A child-like kind of guilt flashed across her face, and for a second, she couldn’t even look you in the eye. She knew how sacred the time you had together was, how scarce it was, too. Not to mention how much you had looked forward to spend each and every minute together, and make use of it as well.

“What? What do you mean? Who?!”

“Well, Jenni, Patri… Leila. Ale and Olga will be there, too, and all the others… if they have time.”

You rose an eyebrow, studied her face, “…there? Where?!”

Misa sighed and rubbed her brows, “They want to go out to some club since most of us are in town, but I had my phone off the entire day and only now read that they’re going to pick me up…but-”

“-they don’t know I’m with you?”

She nodded sheepishly, “I just texted them that, but Jenni said that’s even better… that it will be more fun with you around, anyway.”

You whined again and threw your head against her shoulder. She patted your back, “I know. Feeling the same.”

“Text them again. Say we’re out.”

“I could… if I hadn’t just told them I was not planning on leaving the apartment with you.”

“What’d they say?”

She sent a toothy grin your way, “Apart from hollers and dirty comments?”

“Oh God, I don’t want to know.”

You felt Misa’s hand start to roam beneath your shirt again. Her voice turned to a whisper, “Anyway, we don’t have to open when they knock.” You sidled up to her again, liking how your knees were on either side of her legs, giving you the control to keep her in place. “We’ll just pretend they’re not there so they’ll go, vale?” Her eyes twinkled with mischief.

“I like that idea,” You whispered back.

“Yeah? Think you can do that?” Misa cupped your cheek and tilted her head in challenge. You hummed noncommittally, having only eyes for her and the way she was looking at you, how she softly scratched your back with her cold fingertips and how it sent shivers down your spine already. You were going back in for the kiss when rapid knocking sounded from the hall. The two of you shared a look, before Misa whispered against your lips, “Ready to put your money where your mouth is?”

She kissed you, hard, stopping you from answering her as her hands raked across your body to all the places she knew would work you up.

The knocking commenced, but this time, it was a little harder to ignore,

“Police! Open up!” Jenni’s voice boomed from the other side of the door. You felt Misa pause, but she quickly continued and pulled you closer when Jenni’s muffled voice sounded again, “We received a phone call about a possible house fire. Neighbours said it was getting too hot, so we came by to check.”

You knew that all of Misa’s neighbours on this floor were probably hearing this as well, but when your head slowly turned to face the noise, Misa softly pulled it back to her.

Now you heard another voice, more banging on the door and some laughter, too, “We’re looking for two fugitives who could be inside. Both attached to the hip, can’t keep their hands off one another and are probably the reason behind the fire.”

"Yeah, we really need to get in to blow it out!"

Misa loudly cursed and dropped her hands, squeezing your waist before sliding you onto the couch with the utmost care before standing up.

“I won’t be long.” She spoke gently, in contrast to the way she grumpily walked to the hallway. “Going to fucking kill them-” She muttered under her breath.

You heard the voices less muffled now. Jenni, Leila and Patri, indeed. But their voices grew louder and you heard the front door close.

“Some fugitive you are, opening the door to the police.”

“I’d rather have that than have my building know I’m friends with idiots.”

“They already know, Leila and Patri ding-dong-ditched all the numbers downstairs at the intercom, that’s how we got in.”

You quickly made yourself presentable and perched yourself on the edge of the couch.

“There she is!” The trio stood in the living room, grins and smirks on their faces, with a less-than-amused Misa finally trailing behind them, mouthing an apology to you.

“You’ve found me… the arsonist.” You smiled softly, trying to calm the whiplash you felt from having gone from a heated make out with your girlfriend to this clownish trio standing before you.

Patri looked around, “No flames yet, so looks like we came just in time.”

You saw Misa roll her eyes and mock Patri, who saw you giggle and quickly turned around to face an innocently smiling Misa. Leila walked over and pulled you off the couch, “Go doll up, I'll help you pick something out but we gotta go, we gotta go! No time to waste! You can go and fire up the dance floor later, dale!”

You passed Misa as Leila pushed you down the hall, the defender’s giggles filling the room. They were having way too much fun with this, but you couldn’t help but let out a laugh as well when you saw the big grump your girlfriend had become.

“Don’t kill them,” You mouthed to her before disappearing in the bedroom.

“You too,” Jenni plucked at Misa’s hoodie with disdain, “Come on! You’ve got to show them you’re a power couple.”

“I don’t have to prove anyone anything, let alone that we’re good together.”

Patri rolled her eyes, “Look, we can’t have you slacking in trainers when she’ll be looking like a snack. Or do you want everyone to go up to her, not knowing she’s with you?”

Misa threw her head in her neck and groaned, “First you go and ruin our time and now you’re having me play dress up? Really, woman?”

“You don’t want to spend time with your friends anymore?” Jenni gasped in mock outrage, then laughed, “Come on, you can thank me later when she sees you and can’t keep her eyes off you.”

A huff left Misa’s mouth as she threw herself on the couch, reaching for the remote to stop the show you had been watching so you wouldn’t miss anything. She watched as Patri gave her a look, “What?”

“Y/N’s committed to it, now you have, too.” Patri crossed her arms.

“More like had to surrender herself,” She squinted her eyes at Patri, “But alright, I’ll bite.” She sighed, realising they were not taking no for an answer tonight. “My closet is the first door to your right. You sprung this upon me, so you go and have a look, I can’t be bothered.”

“Aw, big baby-” Patri stuck her tongue out, receiving the finger from Misa. She plopped down next to her on the couch while Jenni hurried off towards the closet, loving the power she had been given.

“You really love her, no?” Patri teased, to which Misa only rose an eyebrow. “The real deal, yeah? I can see it.”

“Patri-”

“No, listen! I love it! It’s good to see you so happy and in love. A little weird, too.”

“Don’t go all soft on me now.” Misa tried to nudge Patri away, who was giving her air kisses, but her face had softened nonetheless.

“Hold onto that, don’t let her go.” Patri shrugged matter of factly and pulled the remote out of Misa’s hands, “Just don’t you dare forget about your idiotic friends.”

Misa smiled, genuinely, “Never. To both things.”

After Jenni had returned with an armful of clothing and threw it at Misa to put on, Leila and you had returned not long after.

“Yes, that’s what we’re talking about!” Jenni looked at how well you’d cleaned up, returning your smile. She came over, seeming to fix your outfit a bit, only to quietly mutter to you, “Got her to wear the national team blazer I know you love on her.” She winked, then turned to the others. “Let’s go!”

Misa walked up to you, her fingers immediately locking with yours, and you couldn’t help but look her up and down feeling completely mesmerised. She was indeed wearing the black blazer you absolutely loved. Beneath it, she wore an elegant green V-shaped satin top that stopped right beneath her belly-button, looking as soft as the sun-kissed skin beneath. And with a pair of black tailored trousers to match, she looked absolutely ravenous.

The smirk on her face had grown as she’d watched you take her in.

“Ready to go?” She squeezed your hand, pulling you back to earth, the dangling of her car keys taking you out of your daydream.

“You’re not driving with us?” Leila asked, seeing the shake of Misa’s head, “Then why did we pick them up?”

“I’ve been wondering the same thing ever since you knocked on the door.” Misa muttered softly, playfully, having made peace with their predicament now, “But no, I want to be able to leave when we’ve had enough. I’m not letting you guys trap us again.”

You quickly plucked the keys out of her hand, then out of her reach when she tried to get them back, “Nah-ah, you always drive me everywhere. I want you to be able to have fun tonight. I’m not feeling like drinking anyway. Really, it’s okay.” You quickly added when you saw the look on her face. Misa was having a battle with herself. She hadn’t liked this turn of events, at all. It wasn’t the night she had planned and she knew you hadn’t wanted this either. For you to then sacrifice your night for her, felt wrong. If anything, she would have wanted you to have fun.

“If you’re wondering whether I can have fun without alchohol, then that’s a challenge I’ll happily take.” You shot at her when you saw the gears in her head turning for too long. She looked up, immediately, saw the playful pout on your lips and quickly planted a kiss on them. She knew this was you wanting to treat her tonight, a fair exchange for all the times she had put you first.

“Okay, let’s go, then.”

You walked out of the apartment with Misa in hand, but not after hearing the trio mutter,

“Ten euros on them leaving within the hour,”

“Pussy, make it forty... on them not even making it to the place.”

“You’re not having lots of faith in them… I call two hours, but make it forty-five.”

“Why not round it up to fifty?”

“I like odd numbers.”

“Fifty is an odd number, you doof.”

You bit your lip, realising you could have some fun with the bets they had placed.

Finding an available parking spot in the city centre on a Saturday night had deemed more of a nightmare than initially anticipated. You should’ve just gotten an Uber, but you sensed Misa had done this on purpose. She’d insisted on driving the way there, after all, but you knew it was because she often really calmed down when behind the wheel. Especially at night, with the sun down. Only this hadn’t been the most relaxed drive.

“Mierda-” She cursed as she rounded another corner, seeing a car park right in the spot she’d had her sights on.

“I’m beginning to think you took the car on purpose just so you could use the no-parking-spots excuse and drive back home.”

“Don’t tempt me,” She laughed, her hand going to your thigh as she put the car in reverse, turning back around. You grabbed it, giving it a squeeze. She squeezed back, her eyes still fixated on the road behind her before turning the car back in first gear. It was a thing the two of you often did, the squeezing, both to ground each other when things got hard, and to remind one another you were in this together. Never alone. It was something Misa had kind of initiated after a particularly rough night you’d once had. It had been the first time she’d seen you so distraught… the first time she’d seen you cry, for that matter. It had all felt a little unknown to her. She was out of her element, physically aching at how she didn’t know how to get that smile of yours to reappear again. So she’d held you, squeezed you to the beating of her heart in an attempt to calm and comfort you, trying to get you back to her. It had worked, and every other time after that.

“There!” You perched in your seat, finger pointing to the spot that had just cleared up.

“I know,” Misa muttered, almost disappointed, “Hoped you wouldn’t notice.”

“Misa-” You let out a loud laugh, loving how her eyes immediately flitted to yours, amusement on her face. She parked the car, turned it off, then turned to you.

“You know, we could just stay here.”

“And?”

“I think you know.”

“No-” You pointed a finger at her, grabbed your clutch and pressed the release button of both your seatbelts, “I’m not losing. And you’re coming with me.”

“Losing what?”

But you had already playfully ran in front of her, turning around with a smirk on your face, daring her to catch up.

“Do you even know where it is?”

“I’ll follow the music!” You yelled back.

Misa shook her head and bit her lip. You were one hell of a woman.

The club was packed, dark and filled with people who’d already drank more than just a club soda. But perhaps that was exactly the fun of places like these. People came here to let loose. To have fun. To dance without inhibitions, to mingle and meet strangers. After stuffing both yours and Misa’s ID’s back into your clutch, she pulled you close to her. It felt safe to feel the weight of her hand on the small of your back, to know she was there, caring about your safety. She cleared your way through the crowd, passed the dance floor, the bar, the bathroom before walking up to the booths lined up to the wall in the back. You recognised the familiar laughter before you saw the group. They all cheered when they realised you two had made it, after all.

“Hey, what took you so long? Pay up, Leila!” Jenni laughed as she pulled the two of you into their booth. “Patri and Ale are getting drinks, Mapi and Ona went to the restroom.” She quickly informed you two before motioning towards the bar.

You gave Olga and Ingrid a hug as best as you could over the tables filled with empty glasses. Conversation soon flowed freely. Granted, it was a little distracting that Misa’s hand rested on your leg, squeezing now and then as she fell into an idle chat with Alexia once she returned with the drinks. You sipped from your alcohol free beverage, actually finding yourself enjoying reconnecting with these girls more than you thought you would after having been plucked away from your Misa-bubble.

Olga suddenly stood up, “I want to dance. Dance?” She turned to you, then to Ingrid.

“Dance.” You nodded, sliding across Misa’s lap and out of the booth.

“Don’t get lost.” Misa smiled playfully, keeping hold of your hand until the distance made it fall back onto her lap.

“There they go, the girlfriends.” Mapi sighed dreamily, her eyes on Ingrid who blew a kiss over her shoulder.

Misa took a deep breath, watching as the three of you laughed and walked away. “I love her.”

“Yeah,” Alexia agreed, her eyes following Olga, breathless.

The song had just changed as you made your way through the crowd, the three of you holding hands so as to not lose each other. Some people who hated the new song walked away, the dispersing crowd helping Olga to find her way to the centre of the dance floor. Olga’s cheer when Shakira’s Dare’s Club mix started to play egged Ingrid and you on and the music quickly helped you move around as if no one was watching. Two girls dancing close to the three of you joined, matching your childlike joy at being able to let go after a long week of work. The neon lights flashing above you were hot on your face as you moved around. But you couldn’t care less, you were having fun. A MEDUZA song started, followed up by something from Alok’s and Tiësto’s repertoire and soon, even without alcohol, the songs started to blur together. Olga pulled you close, quickly snapping a pic, then another one as Ingrid and the two girls joined. It was fun, and you wished it would never end. Your bladder had other plans.

“Gotcha!” Olga yelled over the music when she realised what you were signing at, grabbed Ingrid’s hand and pulled the three off you out of the crowd as swiftly as she’d weaselled her way in.

At the sink, the three of you giggled.

“I needed that.” Ingrid puffed out a breath, dapping at her neck with a wet towel, her cheeks flushed from the heat of the club.

“The dancing or the break?” You nudged her, watching her reaction in the mirror as you washed your hands.

“Both.”

“Fair.” Olga nodded with a giddy smile, sitting atop the counter, handing you a paper towel from the dispenser beside her.

“Oh-” Ingrid’s face suddenly fell, “We never said goodbye to those girls.”

“Aren’t we planning on going back out there?”

You turned to Olga and watched her hop off, “I like the way you think. I’ll text the wives that we’re still A-OK.”

“I’m just imagining them sitting in that booth, so lost.” Ingrid laughed.

“Then we should probably give them something to keep them entertained, no?”

Olga opened her mouth, both surprised and impressed, “I like the way you think, again. Ready?”

You linked arms, the heat immediate and slapping in your face as the door of the restrooms opened. Someone had just thrown up close-by, not making it to the toilet in time, that much was clear by the acidy smell in your nose. Or perhaps it was just the mixture of sweat, hormones and bitterly spilt drinks. You passed the bar, pushed through the crowd just enough so that the booth where your friends sat came into view. Olga pulled out her phone, turning the flash on and waving it around. Another waving flash came into view and you got a little closer. The girls from before had left apparently, but the three of you had fun either way as you danced again, interacting with the women in the booth now and then. Patri, Ona and Leila joined- Alexia was very clear that her seat was too comfortable to leave- Jenni danced over with her drink- Mapi opened her arms as Ingrid excused herself and joined her girlfriend in the booth, and Misa… Misa was staring right at you. You couldn’t quite tell if she was mesmerised by how independent, free and joyous you looked, like a little kid on the first day of summer, if she was trying to figure out what she’d ever done to deserve you, or if she was fantasising about all the things she could’ve been doing with and to you had you never left the apartment. She hadn’t even seem to notice the finger you’d used to try and beckon her towards you. You quickly ducked into view of the video Leila was making, then returned your gaze to the booth. Misa wasn’t there. But you knew exactly where she was when two familiar hands snaked across your waist from behind, her breath fanning your neck as you heard her hoarse voice from having had to talk above the music, “You look most beautiful when you’re happy.”

Your smile widened so much, it stretched your face. You grabbed her hands, swaying your hips along to the rhythm and against hers, loving how her grip tightened. She rested her chin on your shoulder, “God, you’re the best thing to have happened to me.” She murmured against your neck. She’d long abandoned her blazer and your hands traveled up her tattooed arms before you turned around in them, giving her nose a peck.

“I’m quite sure that should be my line.”

She squeezed her eyes shut, tilted her head, “Are you now? What’s that based on?”

You hummed, your arms snaking around her neck, hers falling to your hips, “Instinct.”

“What else is that instinct of yours telling you?”

You pursed your lips, not missing the look in her eyes, the message, the request.

“Thought you could read me so well?”

Misa’s lips cracked into a grin— you had her trapped.

“I think it’s telling me to get you another glass of whatever you were drinking. Don’t want you fainting on me. You’re my ride home, after all.” She walked away backwards, eyes never leaving yours, knowing exactly what she had just done by throwing you a rope to hold onto, and then pulling it out of your reach. In the corner of your eye, you could see Patri sneaking a twenty euro bill towards Jenni. That meant one hour had passed. You’d love to see the looks on their faces as you’d ask them all your share of the money for having lasted more than two hours. If you could make it that far. Misa was making it incredibly hard to resist. You excused yourself and went back to the booth, being greeted by Alexia, who scooted over.

“Enjoying yourself?” She asked in amusement, her eyebrow raised.

“Oh, yes. You, not so much?” You guessed, sensing this wasn’t exactly Alexia’s typical Saturday night.

“I am. Look at her.” A dreamy look coated her eyes as she watced a laughing Olga, having fun. “That’s all that matters.” She mumbled, but got a little embarrassed at the soft look you were giving her, “Anyway, shouldn’t you follow Misa, or something?” She chuckled, her tone a little too suggestive.

You froze. Oh God, had Misa meant something else with her whole ‘you’re looking parched’ act? Was it some sort of euphemism? Was she waiting in the bathroom now? She couldn’t be, right?

“No…” You breathed out in doubt.

Alexia laughed at the flabbergasted look on your face, “Sure looked like it from here… the way she was admiring you. Anyway, you go have fun, you youngsters,” She playfully rolled her eyes.

You stood up, a little self-conscious now as you fixed your clothes. Patri asked if you were okay by sending a questionable thumbs up your way, one you returned with a nod and smile. Gods, okay, what the hell. You were young indeed, why not enjoy it while it lasted.

Okay, the bathrooms. Right.

You felt yourself growing a little hotter as you pushed through the crowd, thoughts racing and your heart speeding up, but you turned back around when a sweaty hand on your arm stopped you. A man stood there. Mid-twenties, ash-blonde hair and a far-off look in his dark eyes as he smiled at you. You gave him a questioning glare, pulling your arm towards your body, but his hold wouldn’t budge. He leaned in, and you immediately reared back feeling incredibly uneasy. You realised he’d leaned in to tell you something,

“Never seen you here before.”

You gave him a tight-lipped smile, then pulled at your arm again. He let go but put his hand on your shoulder and stood beside you, pointing towards the crowd with his drink in hand, “Wanna join me and my friends?”

“No, I’m good.” You give him another tight-lipped smile. Stay kind. Stay patient. Then slip away. You could hear yourself say over and over again in your head. You tried to step around him, but he blocked your way and his grip tightened.

“Come on, please!” He gave you a playful smile and finally let go, allowing you to breathe again. He put his hands together and pouted, “For me?”

You stepped to the right. He stepped to the right. Between his steps towards you, and your steps back, the panicked shimmying had left you with your back against one of the walls in a vacant spot of the club. Most people here were ready to leave, already too far gone to notice your predicament.

“I’d really rather not.”

“Ah, why not? I’ll buy you a drink.”

One step closer. Another step back. You hit the wall.

You shook your head, “No, thank you.”

“I’ve seen you dancing with your girls, come on, you can take them, too.”

“No, thank you. Let me go, now.” He had expertly draped his entire arm across your shoulders now, pulling you into his side, against his shirt as he dragged you a few steps back into the crowd on the outskirts of the dance floor, planning to disappear with you in the sea of people.

“Ah, Dirty Little Virgin then, I see-” He let you go, but only slightly, the smirk on his face making you sick, “I’ll buy that cocktail for you, my treat, I’m sure you’ll like it, come on. My friends are there, you’ll like them.”

Panicked, your eyes darted around you, hoping that anyone who was watching would notice you were in distress and that you did not belong to this man.

Well, so much for being young and seizing the moment, you thought.

You fought against his hold, hating how your head pressed against his clammy shirt. You couldn't breathe.

“Joder, hijo de puta, keep your filthy fucking hands off of her, you sick fuck-” You turned your head around as much as you could in his drunken but firm grip, and saw your girlfriend push two drinks into the chest of the nearest bystander.

“Now.” She growled and approached, teeth baring, seething, fuming, already working on prying his arm off you with mighty strength. He let go in a painful protest.

“Fucking hell-” He took offence, stepping in front of you as if Misa was the one he needed to protect you from.

“Step back and walk away.” She spoke through gritted teeth. You saw her clench her fist, all the anger in her body collecting in there, and you feared what the end result would be if she’d release it.

“Fucking girl telling me how to live my night-”

Misa’s eyes then quickly flickered to yours, softening slightly, needing the confirmation that you were alright. Shaken up, yes, but Misa was here, so all would be fine. You trembled but nodded.

For your sake, she clenched her fists tighter, hoping to lock her anger there, not wanting this to get out of hand. But when he turned around and made a move to pull you with him again, she pushed him against his broad shoulders. He was tall, fit, towered over her, and yet Misa seemed not intimidated in the slightest. He lost some of his balance that he’d already lost to drinking the entire night, and clashed against some dancing bystanders. They scowled, scoffed, and stopped to see what was happening. More people seemed to realise something was up and turned to stare. You looked around at how many people were already looking your way. Your eyes caught those of your friends in the crowd, who saw the look in your eyes and immediately brought the entire situation to the attention of the others before they tried to make their way over through the partying crowd.

“Fucking girl has more manners than you or I would’ve knocked you out already.”

He huffed, took a step closer to her, abandoning his quest to get you to himself.

“Yeah? Think you can beat me?”

Misa tilted her head, half accepting the challenge and not backing down from this display of alpha behaviour, “I can. Don’t want to. So walk off.” She dug her fingers into his chest, making him take a step back. He immediately closed the distance again, their faces incredibly near to each other. You were finally able to walk away from him, making sure to walk around him in a large radius. When Misa saw you in her peripheral, her arm stood out and you immediately took the invitation to stand behind her. But instead of safely tucking you closer, she pushed you further away, and fear suddenly struck you.

“Misa, come-” You softly tugged at her arm, afraid of what she'd to to him... what this man might do to her. Not that you thought she couldn’t handle him, please no. You just had to be realistic. And given his size and seeming strength, you weren’t sure how much damage this drunken fool would do to your girlfriend before she’d inevitably take him down.

“Afraid?” He taunted, standing way too close for both your comfort, but Misa didn’t waver one bit.

“Of a teenage boy throwing a hissy fit because he got rejected?”

You closed your eyes, realising Misa wasn't making it better when you saw the anger on his face.

“Then put your fucking money where your filthy mouth is.”

Your face paled as he bumped into her with his chest, but Misa barely budged. Oh, how different you thought your night would be the last time you’d heard that sentence.

“Misa, please.” You pleaded, "Let's just go home." You felt her relax, lean back as if she realised you were right. If only he had just shut up after that.

His eyes went to yours again, an unreadable look in his eyes. He huffed, “Oh, I see.”

“Good,” Misa nodded, standing in front of you when he approached, “Then you should see she’s taken and not interested and quite frankly, disgusted by you. Fucking move!” She rose her voice and pushed him when he looked at you, readying himself to think of what would no doubt be an insult or a slur.

A couple sets of arms and hands softly pried you backwards, to safety. Leila, Olga and Ingrid stood behind you, faces serious but gentle as they turned to you, pulling you out of harm’s way. You noticed Jenni, Alexia and Mapi were trying to pry Misa away from the man, making her see it was a useless thing to fight with a drunken fool who only enjoyed egging her on. But she was not backing down. Not now as the words left his mouth. Not only that— he had hurt you, intimidated you and made you feel afraid. Drunk or not, she was not going to leave without teaching a lesson to the one who had wiped the smile of her lover’s face. You watched as Misa’s friends pulled at her, pried at her, tried to talk in on her, tell her it was not worth it, but all you could see was the constant clenching of her fists. This was bad.

You rubbed your temples, burying your head in your hands before looking back at Misa, “This is bad, get her out of there-” You muttered, stopping the trembling of your fingers by nibbling on them. Someone stroked your back as another hand with a glass of water was pushed in your face. You knew they meant well, but you couldn’t rest and calm down until Misa was fine, preferably a thousand miles away from the fool.

“Fucking disgusting.” He used her words against her and spat at the ground. Within an instant, yelling ensued as you saw flying limbs and people dashing away. You jumped forward, a rush of instinct telling you to protect what you loved before arms kept you where you were, putting you down onto a stool, not wanting you to get hit in the process or to upset Misa even more. Leila went to stand in front of you, obstructing your view while glancing behind her now and then.

“It’s okay- she’s okay- they’re all okay.” Ingrid reassured you, her eyes following her own girlfriend with worry.

“Did he hit her?”

“No.” Olga immediately shook her head, a little too quickly for your liking.

“She him?” You wondered, looking back up at Leila.

“Don’t think so.”

You rubbed your knees and dropped your head.

You could hear yelling.

“Hey- no, think of your career!”

“Fuck my career, think of my girl, you mean?! I’ll never put my fucking career before my girl. I fucking fight for what I love.”

“Hey- I know, I know, but she wouldn’t want you to do this.”

You realised the girls around you were joined by Ona and Patri as they started to whisper, then whisked you away.

“Time to go.”

“She’s behind us.” Patri immediately spoke when she saw the protest in your eyes.

“Say that the fuck again!? You made a fucking mistake laying a hand on her, you hear me?! Look me in the eyes and say that again!”

You glanced over Ingrid’s shoulder and saw Mapi, Jenni and Alexia forcefully shepherd a furious Misa along between them, who threw insult after insult over her shoulder at the man being held back by security. She looked as fine as she could given the situation. You saw no cuts, swelling or blood. At least not on her face. And with each passing step, the distance between her and the man grew. That calmed you down. For now.

One of the bouncers walked behind your group, making sure you left without reconnecting with the man outside, telling them your night was over and to not return. Misa got mad at that, saying they should ban the man for sexual harassment, call the police, even. The bouncer only signed her to calm down, then told her they’d figure it out once they left so the fight wouldn’t commence in the streets. He kept a close watch on you all even as you exited the street. When the music boomed further in the distance and the streets turned vacant, Misa seemed to snap out of her anger and rushed through the group, hands immediately replacing those of Olga and Ingrid as she pushed you against her chest.

“You’re okay now.” She kept muttering, and you realised she probably did so to herself, as well. Then, “I’m sorry.” Over and over again.

“I was worried you’d hurt yourself.” You let Misa squeeze the air out of you, burying yourself in her embrace.

The biting tone to her voice returned, “Well, I was worried he’d hurt you.”

“He didn’t.”

“Okay.” Misa put you at an arm’s length in front of her, examining your eyes to see if you were lying, then pushed the stray hairs from all the dancing out of your face.

“But I really want to go home now.”

Misa’s heart broke at your voice. You sounded so disappointed… defeated, that your night had ended like this. This was not the night you’d had in mind, and it didn’t seem like you were leaving with those forty-five euros either.

Misa also couldn’t help but feel something for the way you had called her place home.

She grabbed your hand, squeezed it twice, I’m here, you’re okay, and turned to the others. She quickly thanked them for looking after you and making sure she hadn’t just killed someone, seeing you couldn't, and then pulled you into her as you walked back to where you’d parked the car. Misa softly pried the clutch out of your hands and dug around for her car keys.

“No- I said I’d drive. I haven’t drank anything. I'm fine, I can do it.” You protested, only for Misa to open the passenger door and help you in, even going as far as to put on your seatbelt. She planted a kiss on your cheek.

“I haven’t drank anything either.”

“I told you I would-”

“I can have fun without alcohol, too, believe it or not. And I was having a good night before-” She stopped herself, shrugged it off and got in the car herself, "Well, I didn't want to drink too much anyway, because then I wouldn't be able to protect you the way I want."

“You do too much for me.” Your little voice sounded in the quiet of the car once she had driven off.

“There’s no such thing when it comes to you.” Misa kept her eyes on the road, her hand squeezing your knee to comfort you.

“But you never let me do anything back. It’s give and take, you know?”

“I don’t see our relationship as transactional. I do things for you because I love you. That doesn’t mean I need anything in return.”

It was silent for a while, until you spoke up.

“‘Kay, good. Because I’m in your debt after tonight and I’m not sure I’ll ever be able to do such a thing back to you. He was big.”

“His ego, maybe.” Misa snorted, finally being able to see the humor of it all now that she had you safe and sound beside her.

You didn’t laugh along, instead wondering, “Did you hit him?”

“Wouldn’t be sitting here if I did.”

You thought of the bouncers and security, “Yeah, okay.”

“I wanted to, though.” She turned to look at you, “Said some real nasty shit about you, us, then swung at me. He was so drunk that he almost hit Mapi. That’s when security stepped in and held him back. Couldn’t get a punch in even if I wanted to.”

“So he didn’t hit you either?”

She stopped at the intersection, “No, love, I’m fine.” She grabbed your clenched hand, softly pried her fingers through and planted a kiss on the back of it. She didn’t need to ask if you were fine, she could see you were still a little shaken, the worry for her only slowly disappearing.

“You could have ruined your entire career back there.”

Misa shrugged, driving off again, “So?”

“So?! Everything you worked for?! Your entire life?!”

“That’s only slightly true. You’re my entire life. Do you really I think I would have picked it over your safety?” Fuelled by passion for you, she continued, “Listen, football is everything to me. I breathe it, I am it, but at the end of the day, you are what keeps me holding on. You are what drives me, who I want to make proud, who I think of at the start and end of each day. Football became my everything when I grew up and I had a rough time, when I didn’t have a lot of people in my corner. It’s like a best friend. It filled up some of the loneliness I felt. Gave me a purpose, gave me friends, gave me something to focus on, something to enjoy. But you… I’m not sure I can even properly explain what you mean to me without making it sound too dramatic or cheesy, but it’s true. You are my everything. You are... this tangible kind of love, something I can hold and instantly feel relief, love, belonging…. You are joy when I see your smile, you’re my idea of a fun time whenever I hear you laugh. Your love is so big that I can even feel what you feel for me from miles away. That I’m wanted. That I'm yours completely. I’ve never been lonely a day in my life ever since we got together, not even when you are out of the country. I love you to your core.” She turned to you, finally daring to look into your eyes, “That’s why I don’t need anything in return. How can I want even more when you’ve already given me all of that?”

Tears prickled your eyes and your throat burned as you tried to hold them in. Misa was never one for grant speeches or declarations of love. She never needed to tell you how she felt about you when she already showed you. But this… it had moved you.

You could see she had played back her monologue in her head and grew a little embarrassed, her hands gripping the wheel and her eyes focusing on the road.

“Don’t forget that, okay?” She softly added.

She saw you wipe at your eyes and felt you move to her side, planting a teary kiss on her temple. She heard you whisper those three words, words that were spoken by everyone in the entire world to declare one’s love, and yet, even while so common, they still made her heart burst.

Misa smiled, “I love you, too.”

The two of you relished in the way your hearts swelled for a bit, until your chuckle filled the quiet car. She turned to you, amused yet confused all the same.

"Que?"

"I thought your whole 'leaving to get drinks' thing was a euphemism. I was on my way to the restroom, actually. Then I saw you with those drinks and God- I could slap-"

"Wait- you wanted to... with me... there?"

"I mean... I figured you-" You stopped.

Misa shook her head, telling you it was okay. She bit her lip, turned to you, her eyes flicking to your body, then to your face. She shrugged and turned back to the road, a smug smile on her face knowing you were hers to love.

"Can't say I hadn't thought about it, but I wanted them to lose, you know? And if we'd started that, I'd have dragged you back home to finish it."

You gasped, ignoring the flush of your cheeks at her confession, "You knew about the bets, too?!"

"They weren't exactly being secretive about it."

"Right?!"

"Having said that," Misa started to drum her fingers against the steering wheel and absentmindedly looked across the road, making it clear to you that her next statement wouldn't be as unserious, "Guess it's safe to say that if there'll ever even be a next time, I won't let you out of my sight all goddamn night. Maybe I can take you up on that offer then." You felt the squeeze on your leg and your hand found hers, squeezing back.

"I'm good on clubs for a while."

"Fine by me. That way we'll never have to leave the apartment again, no?" You pushed her away, seeing the suggestive look on her face, that of a teenager high on hormones.

"Don't you start getting ideas into that pretty head of yours, now."

She held up her hand in defeat, "Vale-" She laughed, then quieted down, her mood softening.

"Let's go home then."

She looked your way, then realised home was already sitting next to her.

⋆*·ﾟ⋆*·ﾟ⋆*·ﾟ⋆*·ﾟ⋆*·ﾟ⋆*·ﾟ

#woso x reader #woso imagine #misa rodriguez one shot #misa rodriguez x reader

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ajortga · 3 months ago

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timeless

pairing: wednesday addams x fem reader

word count: 1k+

a/n: originally this was supposed to be a completely different story with a happy ending so if you like reading fluffy stories, maybe skip this one? pls let me know if this makes u sad!!

summary: wednesday visits the room that held all her favorite memories, bringing back a reminder that you two were so close to being timeless.

Wednesday didn’t know how she felt so different in this place, even though everything was the exact same.

The room she was in felt cold, empty, unknown. It was like a piece of coal that was once an ember, it was stale.

It was all so strange, looking around and knowing that everything was like how she’s always seen your room. The way there were fairy lights and vines everywhere, the guitar that Wednesday learned how to play because of you, the random knick-knack animals that hung upon your display case.

She would’ve never felt like what she’s feeling now. That feeling was you, she had always thought your room had brought her so much comfort and a sense of tranquility.

Maybe it was the way she could hear the faint wind chimes when you told her all the things you wrote about in her journal, or the way you turn on your lamp at night, illuminating a soft glow in your room.

Or maybe it was just you.

Everything was the same, except you. And Wednesday tried to convince herself that you weren’t even a part of the room itself, yet some part of her felt as though you were the biggest piece.

Because why did she feel so empty when she looked around? Why did it feel like a wilted candle that no longer burned?

The braided girl looks where Thing was at, his hand movements sad on your bed. She would’ve rolled her eyes, but she doesn’t feel anything when she sees it, just opens her mouth, “I feel more anxiety when I’m in here than the haunted houses I explore.”

And though it was lingering, Wednesday knew that your perfume was fading away. Because no longer did your sweaters smell like the sweet musk of your skin and a faint hint of flowers, it smelled washed.

And sometimes Wednesday wished that your parents had saved unwashed ones for hers, for that it would’ve comforted her when she slept at night now. For that it would've kissed her goodnight like you would’ve instead of Wednesday laying on an empty, cold bed in the days to come.

A deep exhale escapes her lips, her hands cascading over a journal that she knew all too well.

Thing tries to ignore the way Wednesday’s chin quivers as she bites on the inside of her lip, turning away from him to somehow make her feel better. She opens the journal, tons of photos falling out and onto your desk.

Photographs of you and her.

Us, Wednesday thought. It would’ve been us. Our lives against the world.

And instead it was a car against yours.

And it felt like all the spirit that the places those photos had captured were now dead. Wednesday’s heart and feelings were dead. You were dead.

But some part of you was alive somewhere in Wednesday’s heart, and it kept it beating. All these different shards and sides of you were all stored in the souls you knew.

The photograph was wrinkled, and as much as the girl was brought with negativity, your smiling face made it all better. Like you brought the light that she felt when you both were in that photo.

God, you had always found a way to make Wednesday feel the emotions she was so unfamiliar with. The happiness that came with what love was given. She was always an emotionless person.

But now the traces of you linger, and she no longer feels emotionless. Where in the past she would’ve felt the feeling of you. The feeling of happiness, a sense that she was at ease, that you were always there to catch her when she fell.

But she wasn’t there to catch you when you did. And now you were gone, and she was stuck with feeling the emotions she never felt when you were by her side. Stuck with knowing that she had never told you she loved you.

And Wednesday couldn’t handle that thought. In every other lifetime you would’ve been exploring mysteries that were unsolved, sharing unspoken and sacred kisses.

Wednesday couldn’t bear to know that in this lifetime, it was different.

Because she wasn’t there when you breathed your last breath, she wasn’t there to comfort you when someone had crashed straight into your car. She wasn’t there to hear your last words, or for you to see her for the last time.

She hated the fact that she slowly saw the people around her move on from their grief. She hated the fact that she was still stuck to you. She hated the fact that people didn’t feel the grief she did, because you deserved everyone staying at your grave till night. Why did other people move on so easily?

Why didn’t they see you in the eyes of Wednesday?

Everytime she was in bed, she’d turn and see you, nuzzled up to her. Her hands would run through your hair as your lips slightly parted, your peaceful face resting as your cheeks were flushed with warmth. She would pull up the blanket to your neck so she could quietly press her lips to your forehead.

She always found it so endearing.

The reason she fell asleep with a small smile.

Then in the blink of an eye, she’d remember running up to the stretcher, seeing your peaceful face and a cover being draped over you. And this time, she remembered screaming, “It’s not sweet now Y/N! Open your eyes!" The tears that she fought back drizzled down her cheeks.

Wednesday never cried.

"You can't be gone."

For the first time in her life, she was scared. She was terrified. It was no different to how you looked when you might have slept, but oh it did. It terrified her knowing that you were sleeping and not waking up anymore to her brown eyes, to her kisses.

You were so cold, and as Wednesday stares at the journal, she knew it made her her heart cold again too.

“We had so much ahead of us,” Wednesday says, voice raw and a crack hiding underneath. She tucked the journal with your photographs into her bag. It served as a reminder on how your smile looked, and then your smile brought back how your laugh sounded, how your voice sounded, your smell, her memories of you. “We were so close to being forever.”

You two were so close to being timeless.

#jenna ortega x fem!reader #jenna ortega x you #jenna ortega x reader #jenna ortega imagine #tara carpenter x reader #tara carpenter x you #vada cavell x reader #jenna marie ortega #jenna ortega x y/n #vada cavell x y/n #wednesday addams x female reader #wednesday addams x you #wednesday addams x reader

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raysrays · 5 months ago

Text

Fatal Attraction Chapter One (NSFW)

18+ MDNI‼️

CW for the entire story: Breeding, Size Difference,Size Kink, Jealousy, Scent Marking, Age Difference, Vaginal Sex, Possessive Behavior, Angst, Twisted, Creampie, Angry Sex, Vaginal Fingering, Hair-pulling, Biting, Master/Pet, Light Dom/sub, Violence, Knotting.

Content disclaimer: This story is inspired by the amazing artist @PammyJammy117 on Twitter/X. I in absolutely no way own or claim the idea of the “Cryptid Rengoku” character. Please give credit to the original artist who inspired the story.

Y/N Perspective.

It's early, too early. I don't know why I keep doing this to myself. For weeks now, I've followed the same routine: waking up, wandering the forest surrounding my village, and searching. Every day, I look for a sign that something, or someone, is out there. Yet somehow, I always come up empty-handed. It's not just me, though. My entire group is burnt out on this whole thing.

Searching for monsters has never been a passion of mine, but when you're down to your last cent and someone offers you free food and board in exchange for your help, how can you say no?

I still remember when Miss Tamayo approached me. It was snowing hard up in the mountains, and she saw how badly I was struggling in the cold. She was kind, took me in, and talked to me at length about the mystical monsters and beings her group had been studying and searching for. I'll admit, it was interesting, but I didn't believe any of it was real.

We've all heard the tales—the stories of the creatures we now call the Hashira, the terrifying monsters that once protected their respective villages and residents. While they made for nice campfire stories, there was simply no way these beings existed. Even if they did, why would they stay hidden? Wouldn't they seek revenge on the villagers who used them and then cast them out? None of it made any sense to me.

Despite voicing my concerns and disbelief to Miss Tamayo, she still wanted to help me, as long as I was willing to help her. And that's why I'm here now.

I'm in the middle of this forest. The sky is grey and cloudy, with rain surely on the way. It's foggy, and visibility is poor. Since I'm new and have only been working with these monster hunters for a few weeks, they've given me a basic route—one that minimizes the risk of encountering a real threat. Tamayo wanted me to look for a special flower that supposedly grows around here, but I haven't had any luck yet.

If I can't even find a flower, I don't feel like I'll make a promising monster hunter. At least, that's what Yushiro, one of Tamayo's most relentless supporters, thinks. Though we are civil to each other's faces, he openly voices his concerns about having me around. He says it's a waste of time to bring along someone who doesn't even "believe in the cause."

I suppose I can't argue with him too much. I've walked this same route every day for a few weeks now and still haven't come across the flower Tamayo sent me to find. Maybe it really is a waste of time—

My thoughts are interrupted by a rustling sound in the distance. My body immediately tenses up. I glance around, but the thick fog makes it hard to see. All this talk and thinking about monsters and mythical creatures is starting to get to me.

What was that? Did I lose the path? No, that's just me overthinking it, thanks to Tamayo and Yushiro filling my head with stories. I'm just being paranoid.

The rustling resumes, this time from the opposite direction. I can feel the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end.

"Tamayo? Yushiro? Is that you?" I call out into the fog.

I wait for their reply, but none comes. Adding to the unease, the air feels hotter now, and a strange clicking noise echoes through the area, growing closer and closer.

What should I do? Should I run?

As the clicking grew louder, I made up my mind and began to sprint through the fog, knocking branches and anything else in my path aside. At some point, I lost my footing. The trail must have ended, and I twisted my ankle on a tree root protruding from the ground.

My ears were filled with the sound of my own breathing, and it felt like my heart was going to burst out of my chest. This can't be happening. I was sent on an easy route to fetch a flower, not to be chased by some crazy monster.

I tried to stand, but the pain in my ankle was too much. I strained to stay silent and listened for the clicking sounds; they were faint but still there. I had to get out of here.

Grabbing onto the trunk of the tree I had tripped over, I pulled myself up. It hurt, but the adrenaline rush made it barely bearable.

The fog was finally starting to lift, and I could see the path I usually followed. I must have accidentally stepped off it while running. As long as I could get back, Tamayo would be able to help me with my ankle.

As I started to move slowly, a red light in the distance suddenly caught my attention. Squinting, I tried to make out what it could be and then realized it was two red lights, gradually moving closer to me.

Eyes.

Panic surged through me as I scrambled to move, trying to go as fast as my injured ankle would allow, grabbing onto anything I could for support.

This can't be happening. I refuse to believe any of this is real. How could all those stupid campfire stories be true? And why, out of all the monster hunters in Tamayo's group, did I have to be the unlucky one?

I wanted to scream and yell for help, but I was so deep in this forest nobody from the safe house would hear me.

It hurts. It hurts so much. It feels like my body is going to give out any minute, but my mind is racing, forcing me to keep moving.

The clicking is now accompanied by a deep growling, making it sound all the more intense. Whatever this thing was, it sounded terrifying. And those deep red eyes didn’t really help with my imagination.

Then it happened. I had to take a knee. The strain on my ankle kept getting worse the more I moved. I'm done for. Whatever this thing is, it's going to kill me.

At least Yushiro can look at my corpse and say, "I told you so."

As the clicking and growling got even closer, there was a small thump to the ground as whatever was about to kill me approached. I shut my eyes and prepared for whatever my fate was.

I felt it stop a few feet behind me. This monster is just staring at me. I’m too afraid to face it. I don’t want the last thing I see to be those glowing red eyes.

"What are you doing? Why did you run away?"

My heart nearly stopped. That voice—it was deep, loud, and had an eerie, echoing effect. Was this monster talking to me?

I took a deep breath. What should I say? Should I beg for my life?

"I asked you a question, human. Why are you running away?"

I could hear a hint of annoyance in its tone. The last thing I wanted was to anger a mythical being. I slowly turned my body. The sight that met me made speaking even more difficult.

It was tall. He was tall—about eight and a half feet.

He had blonde fur and a long mane of hair with red accents scattered throughout, tall pointed ears, and those glowing red eyes.

My lips parted. I wanted to answer, to beg for my life and apologize for intruding. But his appearance was so intimidating, so... enchanting.

I froze as he moved closer.

"Can you not speak, human? Are you afraid of me?" He chuckled. His laugh was as intense as his voice.

"I can speak," I managed to choke out.

His eyes seemed to light up, and he smiled.

Dear God. Those teeth. Long and sharp. If he wasn’t terrifying before, he definitely was now. I felt my heart beating rapidly. I knew I was done for, but this was all too much.

"What is your name, human? I've seen you walk this path for days now. I deserve to know who intrudes on my territory daily." Instead of anger, his tone was oddly amused.

"My name is Y/N L/N." I tried to keep the nervousness out of my voice but didn’t do a great job.

"Well then, Y/N L/N. You wandered away from your usual trail as soon as I got close to you. Why did you run away? Aren't you supposed to be looking for me?" He laughed, a mocking sound.

"You are a 'monster hunter,' aren't you?"

I didn't know what to say. He was right. I was supposed to be looking for him. That was the whole point of Tamayo taking me on, but I hadn’t expected it all to be so real.

"I didn’t believe in monsters. I was sent to look for a specific flower," I mumbled.

"Didn't believe?" He moved closer, towering over me. "Tell me then, Y/N L/N, do you believe now?" He smiled, those sharp teeth gleaming.

I felt my body run cold. He was terrifying, not just in appearance but in his entire demeanor.

“Yes, I do.”

For a moment, silence filled the air, broken only by the sound of the wind and his slight clicking.

“What is your name?” I asked.

“I am Kyojuro Rengoku, the protector of this land and its residents.” The echo in his voice cemented my assumptions.

There was no mistaking it—I had run into one of the Hashira.

I’d heard the stories, the legends of Rengoku, the fierce protector of this area. He was kind until he wasn’t. Then, humans saw him as a threat and banished him to the forest.

He kneeled down in front of me, still on the ground.

“You don’t seem too surprised. Have you heard of me?” His ear twitched, and I noticed the massive tail behind him curl around his body.

I took a deep breath and nodded. “I’ve heard the stories. You’re the Hashira associated with fire.”

He perked up at my response.

“So, my legends live on! How amusing!” He laughed.

His voice was so loud, it was almost funny.

Why is he acting like this? I thought he would have killed me by now.

“You’re hurt,” he said, gesturing to my ankle.

“Yeah... I sprained it,” I replied, shifting awkwardly.

“Yes, I know. From running away from me.” His tail flicked slightly, and a smirk formed on his face.

I didn’t know what to say or do. I was completely at a loss. Here I was, casually having a conversation with one of the scariest and deadliest creatures to walk the earth.

“What are you going to do with me? If you’re going to kill me, can’t you just get it over with?”

He looked at me, a mix of confusion and amusement in his eyes.

“Why are you so desperate to die so soon? Do you not enjoy my company?” His voice echoed with a chuckle.

Is he being serious right now?

“No— I’m just... confused. Why are you still talking to me? I’m a monster hunter, not a very good one, but still a monster hunter. Shouldn’t you just kill me and get it over with?” I was desperate for an answer, needing to know if I should prepare to die or not.

He stared at me for a moment, as if deep in thought, his ears twitching slightly.

“No, I don’t think I’ll kill you,” he said plainly. “However, only on the condition that you continue to return here. Tell no one of your kind about me and continue to come see me.”

I sat there, dumbfounded. This terrifying creature was willing to spare my life as long as I returned for his company?

“Why would you want to see me again?” I asked.

He smiled, baring his long, sharp teeth, his ears perking up.

“Because, Y/N L/N, you are the first person to talk to me in a long time. To be quite honest, something inside me is telling me that you and I are really going to like each other.”

His tone shifted, becoming more sinister. What did this creature have planned for me?

And why was I excited to find out?

Next>>

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crystallinestars · 10 months ago

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Unrequited Love

When he develops feelings for you, but your heart belongs to another with no hope of ever loving him back.

I'm not 100% happy with this, but it has been sitting in my drafts for a long time, so I want to finally post it. Forgive me if these are all repetitive.

WARNING: This is pure angst. No happy endings here.

Characters: Kaeya, Xiao, Alhaitham, Thoma, Zhongli, and Kaveh

🦚 Kaeya:

Kaeya has liked you ever since you were both children. Back when he and Diluc pretended to be knights of Favonius that heroically saved you and Jean from Treasure Hoarders, Kaeya had always wanted to play your knight in shining armor. When you got injured while playing and started crying, Kaeya was always the first one to comfort you and help patch up your scrapes and bruises. His little crush on you prompted him to look out for you and protect you from harm to the best of his ability.

As the years passed, that crush developed into full-fledged love. After Kaeya’s falling out with Diluc, you were the only person remaining whom he considered a close friend and confidant. Despite how much he tried to distance himself from you, you wouldn’t have any of it, and persistently wormed your way into his life. You worked hard to keep your friendship alive by giving Kaeya the companionship he craved, and served as a shoulder for him to lean on during his lowest moments. When faced with your sincerity, acceptance, and kindness, how could Kaeya not fall even deeper in love with you?

He lived life by distancing himself from others. He didn’t want to be abandoned and hurt again the same way when his father left him all alone in Mondstadt as a child all those years ago. Kaeya didn’t want to grow attached to people and then suffer when those bonds inevitably broke, just like they did when Diluc shunned him once he revealed the truth about his origins. Kaeya knew better than that, yet your presence made him harbor hope that perhaps you were different.

You’ve known each other since childhood, so Kaeya naturally trusted you more than most. You had a deep bond of understanding and acceptance that made Kaeya hope that maybe he could find unconditional love with you. To have you by his side, being his sole light in this dark world, is all he ever wanted. To have just one person he can let down his walls around and bare his broken self to. These rosy fantasies floated in his mind whenever you were together, warming and soothing his scarred heart.

He should have known better, but he paid the price for his foolish hopes.

When you told Kaeya that you and Diluc got together, it felt as if a bucket of cold water was dumped on him. The sweet, golden fantasies were shattered, replaced with the harsh reality that you didn’t feel the same way about him.

Truly, he should have expected this outcome.

As children, Kaeya had wanted to be your knight in their games of pretend, but it was always Diluc who beat him to the punch. His brother was always the one to save you from the imaginary bad guys and be your hero, while Kaeya faded into the background and was forced to watch as you kissed Diluc’s cheek in thanks.

Kaeya was the first to comfort you when you got injured, but it was always Diluc who ultimately cheered you up and restored your smile. When his relationship with his brother became strained, most of your attention was focused on Diluc who was mourning the loss of his father, not on Kaeya who had also lost Krepus.

To you, Kaeya always came second, and this time was no exception.

Though the news shattered his heart, Kaeya expertly masked his pain with a smile. If you wanted to be just friends, then so be it. He would accept anything you gave him because he craved any scrap of your affection that badly. Your presence comforted him in a way nothing else did, not even his favorite Death After Noon which he resorted to when he wanted to numb the sorrow and forget the painful memories, if only for a few hours. He didn’t want to lose the care and gentleness you showed him, even if it meant suffering through the heartache of knowing that your acts of kindness towards him weren’t out of romantic love. Kaeya could tolerate it, he was sure. He would move on and learn to be happy for you and his brother.

Even if his conversations with Diluc became more awkward because as much as he tried to hide his heartbreak, Diluc knew Kaeya was suffering deep down, he would still smile and try to be happy.

Even if he felt bile rise in his throat when he watched you and Diluc share a kiss and profess your love, Kaeya would smile because you must never learn of his secret romantic feelings for you. His unwanted feelings.

Even if he silently cried alone at home after attending your wedding, grasping at his chest where his aching heart was and downing glass after glass of liquor, Kaeya will plaster on that same smile.

Even if his unrequited love for you never waned no matter how many years passed, Kaeya will continue to wear a smile and act happy for you despite his heart still longing for your love.

Maybe he can’t ever be genuinely happy for you and his brother, but he can at least pretend to be.

👹 Xiao:

Xiao knew that befriending a human like you would only lead to disaster. No matter how many times he warned you to stay away from him because his karma would hurt you, you didn’t listen and continued to visit the lonely adeptus.

Xiao should have put an end to your visits by disappearing and relocating somewhere you wouldn’t be able to find him, but he didn’t. Something in him wanted to stay with you despite his better judgment. The way you brought him new trinkets and foods to try was endearing, albeit a waste of your time since Xiao seldom liked anything you brought.

He wasn’t sure why you were so adamant about befriending him, and when asked, you simply said that he seemed lonely and in need of a friend. Xiao found your reasoning naïve and even foolish since you were putting yourself in danger over an altruistic impulse, but no matter how much he pushed you away, you didn’t give up on him. You were persistent in your attempts to befriend the lonely adeptus, easily seeing through him. He only pushed you away because he was scared, not because he hated you.

Xiao wasn’t sure when exactly it happened, but one day he caught himself looking forward to your visits. He anticipated your arrival, patiently waiting for the moment he when would hear the familiar sound of your footsteps that made his heart race. His breath hitched and cheeks flushed when you smiled at him or playfully teased him. Anything you did sent his heart aflutter. Xiao was utterly smitten with you, yet he didn’t know what to do about these feelings. For now, he was content to simply let them be and enjoy these peaceful and happy days with you. He would explore these warm and airy feelings at his own pace and see where they lead.

However, these delicate emotions quickly turned as heavy as a boulder when you announced that you found a lover.

Xiao was surprised by the news since he didn’t think you had someone else you were as close to as him, if not more so. In hindsight, he should have expected it. You were a warm and friendly person, so it was only natural that you had other people you were close to in your life. This was how things should be. An adeptus like him did not belong by your side.

Though he was aware that it was for the best for you to find love and settle down with a fellow human, something inside Xiao’s chest ached at the thought. He was disappointed that he was not as special to you as he perceived, but he tried his best to ignore the pain and disappointment by burying them deep inside his heart. He tried to maintain the same demeanor he always did around you, but even you could tell that he seemed bothered by something. The way he became more reserved and aloof around you tipped you off that something weighed on his mind.

When you pressed him about it, he reluctantly confessed that he thought you would stop seeing him as much due to your new love. Despite your reassurances that you still wanted him around, as time progressed, you visited Xiao less and less often. You still brought him gifts and foods to try, but this time supplemented by comments about how your boyfriend Gaming gave them to you to try and give to your friends. Most of your conversations were no longer about your life anymore, instead now revolving around Gaming.

Your less frequent visits worried Xiao, so he sometimes stopped by Liyue Harbor to check in on you to see if you were alright. That was how Xiao found himself observing the progression of your relationship with Gaming.

As he watched you stroll around the harbor with the cheerful boy, Xiao found himself yearning to be the one you looped your arms around.

To be the one to make you smile and laugh.

To be the one to hold your hand and kiss you sweetly on the lips.

He wanted to be in Gaming’s shoes and discover what it’s like to be loved by you. However, each and every time, he shoved those thoughts and desires into the farthest recess of his mind, locking them away. He will not interfere, it is not his place. It’s better for everyone if you don’t love him. You would only get hurt being around him if you do. As a human, you would inevitably get hurt by his karma, and Xiao would never forgive himself if that happened.

If one day you drifted apart because you no longer had time for him, Xiao would accept it. It will hurt, but he will accept it.

It’s better this way, he tells himself. It’s better for you to love a fellow human, especially one that treats you right and makes you happy the way Gaming does. It didn’t matter if he wasn’t the one to give you happiness—all that ultimately mattered was that you were happy, even if not with him. Not that he truly believed he could make you happy…

He’s too dangerous to be worthy of your love, so it’s better this way…

It’s better this way.

🎧 Alhaitham:

When Alhaitham invited you over to his house, he never imagined that he was setting himself up for utter heartache. The number of times he invited a person over can be counted on one hand, yet you were one of the chosen few who piqued his interest enough to invite you to his private space. You were not a genius like him, but that did not matter. You understood his worldview and didn’t criticize him for his introverted personality, which he appreciated. Plus, you weren’t afraid to stand up to him if you thought he was being too cold or antisocial, and actively challenged him to step out of his comfort zone every now and then.

Having invited you to his house, you inevitably met his mess of a roommate. When you and Kaveh instantly hit it off, Alhaitham thought nothing of it at the time. The two of you got along, and Kaveh nagged at him less which was good enough for him.

However, with Kaveh being introduced into your life, your unusual friendship with Alhaitham started to change. Whenever you expressed a desire to come over or hang out with Alhaitham, you would always ask if Kaveh could join. Every time you met up with Alhaitham to share literature or get a cup of coffee, your topic of conversation would deviate to Kaveh.

The Scribe was no fool, and he could instantly tell that you developed feelings for his roommate. Something weighed heavy in his chest at that realization, but he chose not to ponder on that feeling too much, and simply brushed it aside. Alhaitham believed in letting people have free will over the development of their lives, so he didn’t stop you from seeking out the company of the architect, even when it resulted in you canceling plans with him.

Kaveh expressed similar behavior to you, constantly asking and talking about you like a schoolboy with a crush. It didn’t take much for the Scribe to figure out that the architect returned your romantic feelings. At the back of his mind, Alhaitham knew what this could result in, but even if something in him disliked the idea, he let things play their natural course. He figured you would know better than to go for Kaveh, a person plagued with deep-rooted issues that not just anyone could deal with.

It was only when he came home one day to find you cuddling up to and kissing Kaveh did that heavy feeling return with a vengeance. The sight of your happy smiles, the sound of your laughter, and the knowledge that Kaveh made you happier than you could ever be with him, weighed heavy on his chest like a boulder. It was difficult to breathe.

However, Alhaitham remained the picture of indifference and carried on to his room. You and Kaveh only spared him with a brief greeting before returning to your little romantic bubble, none the wiser about how the Scribe felt. Alhaitham himself didn’t know what he was feeling, and it wasn’t until much later when he was struggling to focus on reading his book did it finally hit him that he was heartbroken. His chest felt heavy with sadness and disappointment because he loved you, yet you did not want his love.

The realization came far too late, and Alhaitham was left with no choice but to accept that you would not be his. Maybe if he realized his feelings sooner the outcome would have been different? Maybe if he never invited you over, you wouldn’t have fallen for Kaveh? These questions, among various others, plagued him like a bad aftertaste in his mouth.

It was too late to change anything. You made your choice, and Alhaitham will respect it.

He hid his heartache behind an aloof demeanor and curt responses, going about his days as usual. It would be best if both you and Kaveh never found out about his unrequited love to avoid unnecessary drama and complications. Even if some days it was difficult to push down the heavy feelings pressing on his chest, Alhaitham hid them well.

The only times his carefully crafted facade cracks is when you hang out with just him, lost in your own thoughts or distracted by an activity, unaware that Alhaitham is looking at you. If anyone took the time to study his gaze, they would see that despite his stoic expression, Alhaithm’s eyes reflected pure yearning and sadness. As soon as you looked at him, though, he would quickly look away to avoid you finding out the truth.

He will respect your decision, even if it hurts him.

He will hide his pain to protect your happiness and friendship.

🍡 Thoma:

Ever since he first met you, Thoma knew you were off-limits. You were Ayato’s fiancée, after all. As attractive as he found you, he couldn’t get too close to you since you were already taken. He should have been content with simply befriending and serving you the way he served Ayaka and Ayato.

At first, he was.

Ever since being introduced to him, you were placed in Thoma’s care to have the loyal retainer familiarize you with the Kamisato estate and the workings of the Clan when Ayato was too busy to do so. Thoma could tell you were out of your element being engaged to someone of high political and social standing like his Lord, so he did his best to ease your nerves and help you acclimate to your new home. He surmised that being isolated in such a large manor with none of your usual friends and family around must have been lonely, so he chose to become your first friend at the estate.

Thoma regularly snuck you out to play with stray cats and dogs, and watched your face light up in a joyous smile when the animals sought out your affection. Thoma also taught you the ropes about acting like a noble. Due to your nerves, you sometimes made mistakes, but Thoma always helped you feel better by laughing off your blunders. When you expressed a desire to see your family and friends, Thoma accompanied you to the city and served as your protector. He knew what it felt like to be stranded away from family since he was separated from his mother in Mondstadt long ago, and he didn’t want you to miss your family the way he did.

Somewhere along the way, Thoma caught feelings.

He didn’t realize it immediately. It just hit him one day when he watched you and Ayato share an intimate moment on the veranda. He felt jealous and protective of you as he watched Ayato tenderly stroke your cheek and lean in for a kiss.

Thoma didn’t hate Ayato for being the one to capture your heart. He owed a lot to both the Kamisato siblings for accepting an immigrant like him and giving him a place to belong when nobody else in Inazuma did. He is eternally grateful to them for that. For this reason, his jealousy was quickly replaced with shame and guilt because he shouldn’t have feelings for you. You were Ayato’s fiancée, he knew that. You already have someone else in your heart, someone whom Thoma serves out of a sense of respect and loyalty. He would never have it in him to ruin the idyllic happiness shared between you and his Lord.

With no other option, Thoma chooses to keep his feelings for you hidden. He plays the role of your best friend perfectly, being mindful of not touching you unnecessarily or for longer than is appropriate, no matter how much he wants to. He maintains a respectful distance between you, both physically and figuratively.

Though he brushes aside your occasional puzzled glance at his sudden change in behavior, Ayato knows. Thoma can fool you, but he can’t fool Ayato. His Lord knows what’s really brewing behind the surface of the blond’s cheerful smile.

But Thoma steps back and shows Ayato that he has no intentions of getting in the way of his relationship with you. You do not love him the way you love Ayato, and that is the reality of the situation. If you want Thoma to be your friend, then he will happily remain as one, no matter how much his heart bleeds to not mean something more to you.

Thoma will smile for you, so you won’t know that something is wrong. Because nothing is wrong, he thinks. His feelings are not necessary, and he will do his best to move on to not impede the happiness of his Lord and yourself.

The only time he slipped up was when he tucked away a stray strand of your hair on your wedding day. His fingers brushed against the soft skin of your cheek for a bit longer than appropriate, but quickly pulled away to not rouse your suspicion any further. Wishing you luck, Thoma saw you off with that same warm smile plastered on his face as you prepared to meet up with Ayato to begin the wedding ceremony.

He will smile for you. Even if his heart feels like it’s being torn apart, and there’s a thick lump in his throat that makes it hard for him to speak, the least Thoma could do is smile. He will support you on your road to happiness, even if it’s not with him.

🔶 Zhongli:

Zhongli had met many people during his very long life, but few left as deep of an impression on him as you did. You were an ordinary human, a friend of Hu Tao’s he occasionally saw when you stopped by to chat with the funeral director. At first glance, there wasn’t anything particularly outstanding about you, but Zhongli found himself drawn to your energy.

When Hu Tao introduced you to him, he took an immediate liking to you and your boundless curiosity for the knowledge and stories he had to share. It was no secret that Zhongli was wise and well-informed about many things, and you saw him as a source of trivia and riveting tales about events long past.

Your undivided attention and bright eyes endeared you to Zhongli, and the god grew fond of you. He invited you to more outings where he shared interesting stories and answered any questions you had about anything at all. He had fun in your presence and was delighted to be called your dear friend.

Zhongli was well aware that there were deeper feelings brewing in his heart for you, but he was in no rush to explore or act upon them. He was content to take his time and allow your relationship with him to develop at a natural pace. Perhaps one day the two of you would grow even closer, and he would divulge his greatest secret to you about his hidden identity. For now, he would accompany you around Liyue as your friend, and share his boundless knowledge with you.

When you suddenly started zoning out during one of his long-winded speeches, he wondered if something was weighing on your mind. At first, you sheepishly brushed his concern away, saying it was nothing. When you began canceling your dates with Zhongli and scheduling fewer of them than usual, his concern deepened. When he asked for the reason behind these changes, your answer left him conflicted.

It was a charming young man from Snezhnaya, you divulged to Zhongli. A young man going by the name Tartaglia, with eyes the deepest blue you’ve ever seen, sporting a striking red scarf and mask that made him easy to spot in a crowd. Zhongli instantly knew you were talking about Childe, the Eleventh Fatui Harbinger.

He warned you about the dangers of associating yourself with a man like Tartaglia, but that didn’t stop you from meeting the Harbinger on a regular basis. You were enamored with that Snezhnayan rascal, and Zhongli could do nothing but watch as you abandoned his company in favor of Childe’s. You still considered Zhongli as a friend and tried to make time for him, but spurred by your romantic feelings, you chose to prioritize Tartaglia over the former archon.

Watching you run off to be with another man left a bitter feeling in the back of Zhongli’s throat, akin to the bitterness of green tea. But perhaps, things were better off this way. You were a human, whereas Zhongli was a god. He was an ancient being that had lived thousands of years and would continue to live for hundreds if not thousands more, long after your death. He does not age the way you do, not to mention that him being not human might put you off.

Yes, it was better for you to be with someone of your own kind, even if Zhongli disapproved of the man you had chosen. However, seeing how happy you were with Tartaglia, perhaps he was wrong about the impulsive Harbinger. Childe spoiled you with gifts and meals, took you out to see new sights that Zhongli could not, and gave you a vast array of new experiences that the ancient god couldn’t hope to give you. Not to mention, Childe was a fierce and reliable protector, so despite his dangerous occupation, you were in safe hands.

You smiled more with Tartaglia than you ever did with Zhongli, and he knew that he had lost. There were very few battles Zhongli had faced defeat in throughout his long life of fighting wars, but battles of the heart were not his forte. In the battlefield of love, he was the obvious loser. At least, he could accept that fact.

Or so he thought.

The day you announced you were leaving Liyue to go live with Tartaglia in Snezhnaya, made Zhongli’s blood run cold.

Zhongli had lost many people he held dear to him, so he was used to the pain and heartache that came with loss. It still inevitably hurt, but he knew how to cope with that loss better. Losing you was a different sort of heartache, though. Knowing there was a possibility he could see you, yet being denied that privilege because your love for another man was far stronger than your attachment to anything in Liyue was a bitter pill to swallow.

Just like all the other friends and comrades he had to part with, you were also leaving his life, yet your departure was voluntary. You simply did not need him anymore. Not the way he needed you, at least. You made your decision, and Zhongli will respect it, even if something in him is screaming to convince you to stay, to not leave him for good.

He sees you off with a carefully crafted smile and all the best wishes for your future in another land. As a parting gift, he gives you a beautifully ornate hairpin. A token of your friendship, he called it, though in reality, it was his unspoken love confession. Even if you never pick up on the hidden meaning, that was alright. As long as you kept his gift, a piece of his heart would always be with you.

🍷 Kaveh:

To Kaveh, you were a warm ray of light. Whenever he felt down due to bad customers or haunting memories about his father’s untimely death, you would always be there to get him out of his depressive state and prevent him from overindulging in alcohol. You knew how to get through to him when Alhaitham couldn’t, simply by speaking with empathy and gentleness towards him, which is something Kaveh greatly appreciated. Having been faced with tragedy after tragedy, and Alhaitham’s constant harsh criticisms, your gentleness was like a soothing balm to his wounded heart.

Against his wishes, Kaveh fell in love with you. How could he not when you were so understanding and kind? He knew your relationship with him was strictly platonic, but a part of him hoped that maybe you loved him too. That maybe the two of you could be more than friends.

Being a romantic, Kaveh had daydreamed about you a lot, doodling pictures of you in his sketchbook while spinning fantasies about being in a romantic relationship with you. He pictured all the various dates he would take you on, how he would lean in to kiss you for the first time, how he would profess his undying love and hear you say those same three words back to him.

“I love you.”

The day he got to hear you say those words did come, but unlike in his fantasies, your words were not directed at Kaveh. No, instead, you said them to Alhaitham.

It felt like something out of a bad dream the way Kaveh had accidentally stumbled upon your intimate moment with Alhaitham while stepping out of his room to get a drink. He stood behind the corner, getting a glimpse of you straddling Alhaitham’s lap on the living room couch, yet going unnoticed by either of you.

Hearing your earnest confession of love directed at Alhaitham of all people, made his heart sink to the pit of his stomach. Bile rose to his throat when Alhaitham awkwardly reciprocated your feelings and cupped your face in a tender gesture that Kaveh didn’t know the Scribe was even capable of. Once you started to lean closer to Alhaitham’s face, Kaveh quickly made it back to his room, slamming the door shut in his haste to get away from that sight. The loud sound alerted the both of you to his presence, but Kaveh was too heartbroken to care.

What followed were weeks of agonizing turmoil. Kaveh knew he should be happy for Alhaitham. The antisocial Scribe deserved to be happy with someone he loved, but a part of him felt resentful that you chose Alhaitham over him. His fights with Alhaitham became more frequent. Kaveh nitpicked everything Alhaitham did out of jealousy, sparking conflicts that were not as easily waved away and forgotten as before. That resentment turned into guilt as Kaveh felt like a horrible person and friend for being jealous. He didn’t want to argue with Alhaitham, but he couldn’t help himself when his emotions were such a mess. He couldn’t control the impulses.

Alhaitham wasn’t stupid and quickly figured out that Kaveh was lashing out at him because of his broken heart. He had known about Kaveh’s feelings for you. The architect didn’t even try to hide his infatuation towards you, and talked about you at length to him. But you had made your choice: you gave your heart to Alhaitham, not Kaveh, and Kaveh needed to respect that. Alhaitham didn’t mince his words when he told Kaveh he needed to let go of his feelings for you because you weren’t romantically interested in him, but instead of helping, it only hurt Kaveh worse.

Of course you chose Alhaitham and not him. Compared to Alhaitham, he had no money to speak of, no house, and a mountain of debt. Moreover, he tended to overindulge in alcohol and get moody easily, plus you often told him that he hurt you with his self-destructive behaviors… It was only reasonable that Alhaitham would be a better choice in your eyes. After all, he will never be good enough for you. Not a failure like him.

You would always be an unattainable light he will admire from afar but never touch because someone like him is unworthy of you. He’s unworthy of your love—your kindness, even—and you deserve someone much, much better who can truly make you happy.

Kaveh knew all that, yet it didn’t stop his heart from shattering to pieces every time he saw you with his roommate. It felt like his heart was pierced with multiple shards of glass every time he saw you give affection to Alhaitham, those same hugs and kisses he daydreamed about having with you, but he didn’t let it show. Kaveh would pull on a strained smile and pretend that everything was okay, pretend that he was genuinely happy for you. He truly wanted to be. Dear god did he try to be, but he could not. It hurt too much to see you with another.

When the pain became too much, Kaveh started to visit Lambad’s Tavern on a frequent basis. He wasn’t proud of himself for reverting back to his bad habit of getting blackout drunk to drown out his pain and sorrow, but it was the only thing that helped him cope with the heartache.

Kaveh would drink heavily almost on a daily basis. Lambad became witness to the many times Kaveh broke down crying, and many other times when he would laugh in a self-deprecating manner and smile wryly while muttering something under his breath.

The architect had to be regularly escorted home by his friends, preferably someone other than Alhaitham because Kaveh became quite volatile when the Scribe came to take his drunk friend home. So one time, you came to take him home. Kaveh's recent avoidance of you had become worrisome, and Alhaitham wouldn’t tell you why.

While carrying the plastered blond back to your boyfriend’s house, in his drunken haze, Kaveh had confessed to you. He babbled about how much he loved you, that he was sorry he wasn’t worthy of you, and how much he wished to be loved by you the same way.

He’s sorry he can’t be a good friend to you because of his feelings.

He’s sorry he’s such a mess.

He’s sorry. So very sorry.

#genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #kaeya x reader #kaeya alberich x reader #xiao x reader #alhaitham x reader #thoma x reader #zhongli x reader #kaveh x reader

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