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azullumi · 7 months ago

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“of impermanence and devotion to your sacred withering bones” ; sunday

premise — he’ll take pieces out of his flesh to mold into your wounds, bandaging you with his skin; he never liked seeing you hurt.

tags — established relationship, religious themes and metaphors, soft and loving sunday (i advocate), mix of the lovely trio (the fluff, the slight angst, and the comfort), reassurance from him, gender-neutral reader, never proofread, 1.1k ; one-shot

note — my parents chose thought daughter so now i’m writing fanfics on a thursday afternoon.

he’ll love you like religion.

needlessly, tirelessly, with bruised knees and bleeding palms, with blood-shot eyes and clasped fingers, worshiping, devoting, yearning, calling to whoever will listen—to you who will listen. it suffocates him yet he’ll clench at his chest and utter your name even if there’s no voice in his being and he is left like a pathetic, whimpering dog that was made to be abandoned. he’ll dig his own grave with broken nails and wounded hands, a coffin of tender touches, and the earth will fill his lungs and he’ll hope for flowers to sprout from his mouth when he plants his confession into the dirt. can you hear him? do you hear him?

“please take care of yourself more.” sunday says as he reaches for the bottle of disinfectant, pouring enough of it over the cloth he was holding to drench it before gently dabbing the fabric on the area of your wound. it stings and you hissed, clenching the sheets beneath your fingers as you watch him work.

“i only fell and scraped my knee, i don’t think it’s anything that bad.” you say in defense to your clumsiness. sunday was all gentle and careful in cleaning and treating the wound on your knee as if you were a child and he was the nurse tending to your ‘big’ wound.

(a god does not bleed but you do.)

he sighs, “it could have been worse.” and dresses your wound with a gauze, the material pristine white as no blood taints the material.

“but it wasn’t.” you rebut quite quickly, your gaze firm at his yet he doesn’t meet yours. he is kneeled in front of you, an open kit by his side and a chair on his other—and he chooses to be on the cold ground, his clothing slightly wrinkled and its appearance similar to spilled water on the floor beneath him. he never dares let himself appear as indecent with his disordered clothes and unkempt appearance in the form of an unsymmetrical coat and creased pants but here he is, in all his glory and messiness, laid out like the map of a devotee’s heart before you.

(he’ll beg even for a moment of your gaze but his cowardice will hold his head down to the ground—he is never like this, he was never his own when you look at him.)

“what could have happened if i wasn’t there to immediately help you? you’re too careless.” he scolds yet there’s no hint of harshness in his voice, just gentle and sweet worry lacing into his tone. something lies, seemingly dormant, in the still air that embraces you and he finds himself waiting for something to happen.

“sunday, it’s just a small wound. you don’t have to worry, i’m fine.” you assure him, hand cupping the side of his cheek and brushing your thumb over his cheekbone—it’s soft and slow, you feel warm, he feels warm. he leans into your touch, your hand soothing the tension that lies in his bones and his expression softens. silence settles in the room as he basks in the gentle affection that is bestowed on him. he holds your hand he turns his head to kiss the palm of it; his eyes are close and his lips lingered on your skin, comforting, relishing, soft, you.

“i have a question but before that, can you look at me, please?”

“i am,” he whispers, his lips beginning to trace your palm down to your pulse, all the while he keeps his gaze away and shut, “and my love, you never have to beg or plead for anything.” you know he’ll give you everything.

(sometimes—always, he feels like he is undeserving of the divine grace of your attention, of your affection, of your adoration, and you feel like your love is just a meager offering, unable to fulfill him. can you see him each other?)

finally, he looks at you—golden eyes born from the sun meets yours. his halo is situated just right on his head, pierced wings behind his ears, and his hair reminds you of the sky above you that you once gazed into when you were a child playing in the fields, before you were deemed as his, and now your gaze is held on the ground right where he is kneeling down. stray strands of your hair fall over your eyes and the way the light kisses your skin makes you look delicate, ethereal.

“do i love you enough?” you ask. have you ever been enough? have you done enough? is your mere and bare existence enough for someone like him?

“since when have you not?” he answers, filled with gentle affection. his tone is akin of a devout preacher, reassuring like a verse from a scripture.

(sunday never thought of you as lacking, not with the broken and missing pieces of your skin, tainted and muddled by blood and dirt, left to rot in your wake like a sin unrepented.)

“you’re the wine that overflows my cup,” he says, each syllable of his words carrying the weight of his utter and suffocating devotion, “and i’ll continue to consume you even in death.” no grave will ever hold his body down.

you cup his cheeks with both of your hands, his lips leaving your skin yet the warmth of his kisses remains. “you’re too good with your words,” you say, a small smile drawing on your lips, “perhaps you’re only telling lies to please me.”

“my dearest,” he murmurs, lightly grazing his hand against your ear as he pushes your hair aside, “i’ll lay down my life for you, but i will never deceive you.”

(an unyielding faith of a martyr, his commitment is steadfast and his love is a fervent prayer, uttered and spoken only by him. his thoughts are spilled on the carpet, his confession ringing and echoing back to him as he repents like a sinner for loving you too much.)

“i’m a burden.” you whisper, longing for the feeling of his lips on yours. “i’m afraid i’m too much or too little for you to have.”

“i’m okay with that,” it’s a litany of devotion, his words a sacred vow he’ll keep for eternity that will come, “i love you.”

forever become a burden, become human in a fragile and delicate way as if your heart is made to break, so he’ll get to hold you in his hands.

also tagging, the one and only @toorurs !! i am dedicating this to u because u LOVE last day of the week guy A LOT and i’m also too lazy to make another section but yeah this is for you my boo, hi beloved you’re the greatest of the greatest, you’re the sweetest of all (i feel like im singing a song wadahell) and i hope you know that you’re very very cool and very very funny and i’m not the type to laugh while texting but i always do it when talking to you. i try not to do a backflip when u like and reblog my posts (i cant even do a headstand dafuq) !! i hope you know that you’re not loser, maybe a hater, but definitely not a user and you have me as a friend always no matter what questionable and weird things you say 🙏 like okay alpha sigma you’re the boss. this feels like the dedication page on a book or the acknowledgment part in research where you say thank you to whoever you want like damn. i’ll do the remaining words for dedication on upcoming works so that you’re always reminded that you’re somewhat involved in my life even if you’re like 1826725276 fucking miles away

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ozzgin · 3 months ago

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What if Yan Chef had a darling who doesn’t like people watching them eat. Like, will straight up find a way to refuse to eat if someone can see or hear them eat. I’m mortified if someone else can hear me crunch a chip or watches me eat a burger. I can’t imagine the mortification of dating a chef who’s hyper focused on my reactions to food they cooked.

Yan!Chef who is absolutely obsessed with their Darling and loves watching them eat, but has to do so in utmost secrecy. He knows too well that his Darling hates being seen or heard. While they may occasionally sneak a nibble around him, any proper dish will be consumed in a different room, away from prying eyes.

It's understandable, truly. Everyone has a right to privacy. That's what he keeps telling himself, smugly going through the photos he discreetly took of you during your meals. Shameless? Maybe. But he simply can't help it. Your puffed up cheeks, your table habits, the way you dab your mouth with a napkin after a particularly messy bite. He’s seen it all - undercover, of course - and greatly indulges in the privilege of being the only one to witness it.

It’s a secret he’ll take to his grave.

#yandere chef #yandere #yandere x reader

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bluemerakis · 2 months ago

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Imagine . . .

❝ Lover Boy Butcher ❞

This is my yapping ass session about what I think Butcher could be like when he’s smitten over you ~

Warnings: mentions of naughty bedroom stuff is all

All likes & reblogs deeply appreciated! Enjoy it my Butcher Babies ᡣ𐭩

Everybody loves talking about mean Butcher, and yeah, well that man is a grade A dick, let’s take a moment to imagine that once he’s actually quite fond of you: he’ll take the time to do the little things that he knows makes your day a little brighter — making you that extra hot cup of coffee/tea in the mornings when the sun’s still rising and the crisp air around your lips thaw with each breath; randomly throwing in a one-line reference of a book or movie you can’t stop talking about (and that you didn’t think he paid attention to) whenever the two of you banter; turning up the radio when a song he knows you love comes on—hell, sometimes he’d catch himself thinking of a snippet of the song you can’t stop randomly erupting into sing over whenever you’re mindlessly tending to chores. You’re all he wants to get back to when he’s out on a job, and definitely the last thing he wants to leave behind when it’s time to go.

When that man loves you, he LOVES you—against his hard-ass will and everything, and he’s still going to be comfortable enough to call you a wanker whenever you’re being a bit of a prude, but it’s never not followed by some form of Billy affection to soften the blow. . . even when you’ve one-upped him with some ball-bruising insult. If you fight—which can be often due to his impulsive brutish nature—he might storm off, or turn to short-lived alcoholism, but he’s always back in your shared bed come nightfall, taking you into his arms, even when you’re not ready to talk to his dumb face. It’s all right, though because depending on how mad you are, he’ll start caressing you in the places he knows you’re sensitive, and if he’s daring enough, he might go in to plant a kiss or two on whichever part of you is most accessible. He might even throw in a crappy, vulgar joke just to elicit some form of acknowledgement from you.

Let me not even get started on how he’ll act in the bedroom—jokes I’m going to tell you anyways: it’s rough—he’s a rough man, he’s unapologetically mean and abrupt in getting to the point, but he’ll slow things down for you. He’s not so much in the rush when it comes to you—why wouldn’t he want to delay every moment spent inside of you, on top of you, in and out, up and about every inch of your body? Come on, what a fucking zone of euphoria to get lost in! Consider him a goddamn hobbyist explorer when it comes to folding you over below him, or hoisting you onto his hard on, or pressing down on the small of your back until you’re wedged between the pillow he’d laid under your lower stomach and the greedy, propulsive thrusts of his hips. Oh, and he’s always going to simultaneously target that clit with a rough fondling of his fingers. This is a man that KNOWS how to pleasure a woman right, good god!

Initially, Billy was not the most educated on aftercare—he’s usually a hit it and quit it type of guy. But since being with you, he’s learning little by little on what he could be doing differently to make the post-sex experience as comfortable and as healthy as possible for you. After holding you close for a few selfish moments, he’ll get up to pour you both a glass of water and bring it to the bedside table before fetching a towel to dab yourself dry. He’ll take off the sheets while you fetch new ones, and you both work to equip the new, clean bedding. If you’re in the mood for it, he’ll draw you both a bath, or steal you away to the shower. But his favourite part? Settling back into the bed, arm hooked around you and pressing you as close to him as humanly possible—your fingers entangled as you chat about the day, about anything and everything, and of course about that one wanker Billy nearly laid to an early grave. Most of the time, it’s you doing the talking, and he’s more than content to listen on—he’s mostly just watching you exist, anyway because he still can’t believe you’re all his. All his. And god, does he love you. He’d do anything for you, kill anybody for you—lay himself down for you.

Okay I’m done now (for now). Enjoy these procrastination thoughts, this is what my brain juice went towards instead of studying because, you know, priorities!

This is not really proof read so apologies if there are any errors—but let’s be real, you just came here for a good wank (jokes?)

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saetoru · 1 year ago

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✩ ‧₊˚ ✩。RIGOR — AL-HAITHAM.

contents. mild injuries (al-haitham), established relationship, fluff, really bad banter, al-haitham is left handed because i say so

notes. literally just 2k embarrassing words of you taking care of al-haitham after he’s injured from a trip to the desert. yeah.

“that stings,” al-haitham hisses, glaring at you—which earns him an equally as harsh glare back. “why don’t you just pour the entire bottle of antiseptic down my arm at this rate?

“don’t yell at me,” you hiss back, scowling as you dab at the (already clean) wound some more, “i’m not the one who came back with this. why didn’t you get it checked?”

to your utter dismay, al-haitham comes home from a visit to the desert injured. gravely.

well, truth be told, it’s not really grave. that’s just how you see it because anything beyond a scratch is enough to throw you into a fit of panic. he’s not really used to coming home to someone fretting over him like this—standing between his legs as he sits on the edge of the bathtub, dabbing ever so gently at the small (and hardly deep, he’d like to point out) cut on his arm.

running into eremites is an inevitable part of most visits to desert ruins. usually, al-haitham manages to come back unscathed, but sometimes, things don’t always go accordingly. in his defense, he’d thought he’d be able to dodge the blade of the eremite he happened to be fighting. al-haitham has the precision and athletic ability to not only manage, but excel at dodging things that are thrown at him. but still, even he has his moments of miscalculation, and just by a hair, he feels the sting of a blade’s edge tearing through the surface of his skin.

it’s unfortunate, but it’s not a big deal—at least, that’s what he thought. apparently, but not unusually, you have a tendency to disagree with him on most things.

“i was going to check it myself,” he says simply, “it would’ve been fine.”

“oh, i didn’t realize you graduated in linguistics and biology,” you raise a brow.

al-haitham is a well rounded man—he reads books from just about any subject so long as it’s informative and offers him new knowledge that can assist him in being well versed in any topic. more importantly, al-haitham rarely loses arguments, and in order to be able to always win said arguments, his understanding of most subjects is required to be thorough.

he knows how to treat a small wound or two, especially with as often as he lands himself in small fights as he explores ruins.

he looks up at you with an unimpressed stare as he mumbles, “i’ve taken at least a few classes from every darshan.”

“i hate you,” you huff. he exhales tiredly.

“it’s only a cut,” he argues, “there’s no need to be so worried—”

“i’m always worried,” you sigh, staring dejectedly at the injury littering his arm. no one should ever leave a mark over his skin—unless it’s you, and that’s only in a very different context. “does it hurt?” you ask quietly.

a small part of him feels guilty that he’s worried you over his well being, that he’s come home harmed even the slightest bit and disrupted your peace. but the larger and more rational part of him reasons that injuries of this nature are common and inevitable in trips to the desert like this, and he’s skilled enough to ensure that nothing serious ever happens.

still, for your sake, he mumbles, “no.”

it’s a bit of a white lie—it does sting a bit, and the antiseptic you pressed just a few moments ago didn’t exactly help, but admitting to you that he’s in any sort of pain is only opening up more avenues to making this into a larger deal than it really is.

al-haitham is fine, and he’s doesn’t need anything for the slightly inconvenient but not serious laceration on his skin. he’s sure of that.

but then, you cup his cheeks and press a small kiss to his forehead as you murmur, “my poor baby,” with a small pout, “i’ll feed you dinner, okay? they got your left arm.”

he wants to tell you that his motor skills are good enough that he can function with his non dominant hand—being left handed in a world catered for right handed individuals forces you to acquire functionality in both hands. but before he can open his mouth, you kiss down his cheeks, tracing your lips along him until they map out his jaw.

it distracts him for a moment, making hie eyes close and his breath hitch as he lets your warmth settle into the deepest crevices of his skin.

“don’t worry, haitham, i’ll take care of you until this heals,” you murmur sweetly.

and just like that, al-haitham is a bit conflicted now. in his two plus decades of life, he has always been an independent and capable individual—more than most his age. he doesn’t need the assistance of anyone, nor has he ever really needed the assistance of anyone. but you’re making it very hard to resist with the way you’re doting on him with affection.

“i’m fine,” he tries to argue, “really—”

“i should run you a bath,” you mumble, cutting him off. he gets the strong feeling you’re taking more to yourself than him. “and i’ll wash your hair for you too.”

even with the self control someone like him has, even he can’t help but sigh in content when your fingers slip into his hair, stroking through the strands and scratching gently at his scalp. it’s a bit nice—he has to admit that being taken care of, even as minimally as fingers in his hair, is nice.

“you don’t have to do all that,” he mutters.

“i don’t want you moving that arm,” you huff, “would it kill you to stop acting high and mighty for once? most people would take advantage of being spoiled.”

“i don’t enjoy taking advantage of others like most people,” he shrugs.

“you know what i mean,” you glower, rolling your eyes.

it’s a common understanding to most that al-haitham is a bit difficult—you don’t think you ever remember a time where he hasn’t been. he’s stubborn and always believes his views to be correct, and he’s not ashamed of arguing his point no matter who it is. you’re surprised that mouth of his hasn’t landed him in trouble yet—although, you suppose he’s not exactly in the good graces of most at the akademiya.

and as the akademiya’s acting grand sage, you admire his unwillingness to back down. but, as your boyfriend and the man you love, you wish he’d just compromise sometimes—and maybe let you wash his hair and hand feed him dinner for a bit as you nurse his injury back to health.

just this once….and maybe just a few more times later on too. you don’t ask for much, you like to think.

“i’ve gotten injuries like this before,” he reasons, “i’ve survived.”

you look at him with that delicate look of yours, the one that makes him feel like maybe he’s been living his life wrong this whole time. that it only became correct once his life involved you.

he thinks that’s might just be the case when you grin slightly, pinching his nose as you lean down, pecking his forehead and mumbling, “you don’t always have to just survive. you can indulge a bit, you know.”

“is that so?” he raises a brow, his good arm snaking around your hips.

“yes,” you hum, “if you give it a try, you might just enjoy indulging here and there,” you grin, stroking a thumb over his cheek as you admire his features, relearning every curve and every angle of his face. you don’t think you’d ever get bored like this—just standing in your bathroom, staring at him. you think you could comfortably stay right here like this forever.

maybe longer.

“i see,” he says slowly. al-haitham has always had a strong sense of control. but that was before you—he’s now forced to admit that his resolve is a bit weaker, just a bit shakier after you’ve come along. “does this begin with washing my hair?”

“and feeding you dinner,” you nod, tracing your thumb over his brow, letting it wander along the hook of his nose. “do you want me to kiss your arm better too?”

“is that really going to help?” he asks in amusement, making you giggle.

“oh yes,” you tease, “it was in a class i took from amurta. you probably didn’t take it—it’s far too rigorous for you.”

“oh,” he nods playfully, “of course. you’ll have to excuse my lack of understanding. not everyone can be as advanced as you.”

“here,” you grin—and it’s wide, and it’s warm, and it’s far too bright to ever be dimmed by the light of your bathroom as you stare at him, “i can demonstrate if you want. hands-on learning is always the best.”

“i must ask—have you ever learned hands-on like this with anyone else?” he raises a brow.

“and if i have? would that make you jealous?”

“perhaps a little,” he admits, fighting desperately to keep his own smile hidden. it’s hard not to smile when you’re around—how could he not when you swallow the sun with your lips every time they curve upwards in that honeyed way that they do?

“don’t worry,” you giggle again—and god, he thinks, he really loves that sound. he watches you lean down and kiss softly along the edges of his wound, tracing the cut slowly as you say, “you’re my only academic partner now.”

“i’m most grateful.”

“well?” you peck his shoulder, “a kiss helps, doesn’t it?”

“it does,” he chuckles quietly, “maybe you can show me a bit more.”

he’s given into you completely by now—you can tell by the way his body is relaxed on the edge of the bathtub. you can tell by that easy grin plastered on his usually blank face. you can tell by the way he leans into your touch every chance he gets. you can tell by the way he asks you to kiss his wound some more—the same wound he didn’t think you needed to care about.

but you always care, and he’s starting to understand you always will. so he stares at you hopefully, expecting just a few more presses of your lips.

so you do, kissing along his arm, peppering scattered pecks along his shoulder, pressing your lips gently along the column of his neck as he sighs softly and closes his eyes.

maybe being taken care of isn’t so bad—maybe he’s been missing out all this time….but then again, he thinks it’s just that he’s always been missing you. like he was born to find you. like he was made to be yours and you were made to be his and you both were made for each other if nothing else.

if nothing else, al-haitham is glad to be yours.

“does it still hurt?” you ask after some time.

“just a little,” he lets himself admit, “it’s nothing i’ve never dealt with before.”

“you really worried me you know,” you breathe quietly, making him squeeze your hips in reassurance, “don’t hide next time you’re hurt.”

“and will you kiss me back to health if i tell you?” he hums, leaning his head back to let you kiss his jaw easier.

you smile against his skin, letting your touch linger for a moment before you mumble, “of course, it’s only the best treatment. only those who take rigorous classes would know that.”

“good thing i have you to teach me.”

“yes, you’re really quite lucky,” you say with a cheeky smile.

there’s a warm bath waiting for him after this. and a hand fed meal. and perhaps a few more gentle kisses. but most certainly a lifetime of you—that much he knows.

i feel like i’m borderline violating myself by posting this bc it’s so self indulgent but here u go

#teepods.writings #drabbles.#alhaitham x reader #alhaitham x y/n #alhaitham x you #alhaitham fluff #genshin x reader #genshin x you #genshin fluff #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact x you #genshin impact fluff

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pasaatimonarkin · 1 month ago

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As for request, can you write something spicy with Lee Know please? (He's my bias ❤️‍🔥) Maybe a heated makeout session (?) but it's merely a suggestion, the idea is totally up to you 🤗

P.S. Always love your writings ❤️

Thank you so much love🥹💕 I loved this request and it was fun to write! I hope it catches up to your expectations🫶

Lee Minho × reader

A dare turns into a heated make out😌

Word count: 1,5k

Minho's apartment was a cozy mess of laughter and good spirits, the air thick with the aroma of spilled drinks and the faint scent of burnt popcorn. You couldn't help but feel a little nervous as you sat on the worn-out couch, your knees bumping against Hyunjin's as you both leaned over the coffee table to grab a chip. The walls were adorned with posters of bands you had only heard of in passing.

Hannah, the ever-mischievous one, had suggested a round of "truth or dare" to liven up the evening. Her eyes sparkled with a mischievous glint as she took a sip of her beer, swirling it around in the bottle before setting it down with a clink. "Okay, guys, I dare you and Minho to kiss," she exclaimed, her voice cutting through the noise like a knife. The room froze, and you felt your heart jump into your throat. You knew Hannah did it on purpose, because she knew there had been something between you and Minho for a while.

Minho's gaze met yours for a fraction of a second before he leaned back, his expression unreadable. "Come on, it's just a dare," Hyunjin added, nudging you playfully. You felt a warm blush spread across your cheeks, and you knew that you had to go through with it. It was either this or face the embarrassment of refusing. So, with a deep breath, you leaned in, your eyes closing as your lips met his.

The kiss was brief, a mere brush of skin against skin, but the electricity that sparked between you was undeniable. The room erupted into cheers and catcalls as you both pulled away, laughing awkwardly. You wiped your mouth with the back of your hand, hoping no one had noticed the sudden racing of your heart. "Alright, alright," you said, trying to keep your voice steady, "who's next?"

As Hyunjin started to ask Hannah, you nervously bit your lip and with the corner of your eye you saw Minho looking at you. The chemistry between you and him had been palpable for a while, but you had never acted on it. That quick kiss was like a match thrown into a puddle of gasoline - it had ignited something that couldn’t be easily doused. The small touch made you grave for more, but you didn't dare to confess your feelings.

The rest of the night went on with more drinks and laughter, the game continuing in a blur of truths and dares. But the atmosphere had shifted, and every time Minho was close, you could feel the tension coil around you like a tightening spring. When Hannah suggested heading to the bar, you excused yourself to the bathroom for a quick refresh. The bathroom mirror revealed your flushed cheeks and slightly swollen lips, a stark reminder of the unexpected moment that had passed between you. You took a deep breath, willing your heart to settle as you dabbed some cold water on your face and reapplied your lipstick. The door creaked and Minho was standing at the door.

Your heart skipped a beat as he leaned against the door frame, his eyes dark with an intensity that sent a shiver down your spine. "You okay?" he murmured, his voice low and husky. You nodded, trying to play it cool, but the tremble in your voice betrayed you. "You looked like you needed a breather," he said, closing the door behind him.

The bathroom was small, and with Minho in it, it felt even smaller. The walls seemed to close in, the air growing heavier with each passing second. He took a step closer, and you could smell the faint scent of his cologne, mingling with the alcohol on his breath. Your eyes locked onto his, and for a moment, the rest of the world disappeared. Before you could say anything, he reached out and gently tucked a loose strand of hair behind your ear.

"That was... an unexpected move from Hannah" he said, his voice a little unsteady. You nodded, unable to find the words to respond. The silence stretched on, thick with unspoken desire, until finally, you broke it with a nervous laugh. "Yeah, it was," you agreed, trying to play it off as casually as you could. But the way his thumb lingered on your cheek, tracing the line of your jaw, told you that he wasn't buying it.

He took another step closer, and you felt your body respond, leaning into his touch without conscious thought. His hand moved to the small of your back, pulling you closer until there was no space between you. The heat from his body seeped into yours, setting every nerve ending alight.

Minho's hand slid up to your neck, his thumb brushing against the pulse point where your heart hammered a frantic beat. His eyes dropped to your lips, and you could see the moment when he made his decision. He leaned in, and this time, there was no room for doubt. His mouth crashed into yours, hungry and demanding. You melted into the kiss, letting go of the tension that had been building since the daring game began.

Your hands found their way to his chest, feeling the rapid rise and fall of his breath under your palms. His touch grew more urgent, his fingers tangling in your hair as he angled your head to deepen the kiss. The world outside the bathroom faded away, leaving only the two of you and the intoxicating taste of each other.

You felt your body responding in ways it never had before, and your mind raced with the sudden realization that maybe, just maybe, this was more than a drunken dare. The kiss grew hotter, your breaths coming in gasps as you both lost track of time and space.

Minho's hands slid down to your waist, his fingers digging into your hips as he pulled you even closer. You wrapped your arms around his neck, your fingers weaving through his hair as you matched his fervor. The chemistry was undeniable, and the line between friends and something more had been crossed with a fiery boldness that neither of you could ignore.

Minho pulled away slightly, panting, reasting his forehead against yours. His eyes pierced right into yours. You took a shaky breath, the coolness of the air hitting your flushed cheeks and you stared back at him. You didn't know where this was going, but you didn't want it to stop.

"I've wanted to do that for a while," he murmured, his voice thick with emotion. Your heart stuttered at his confession, and you felt your walls crumbling down. "Me too," you whispered back, your voice barely a breath. The words hung between you, loaded with meaning and possibility.

With a smirk that could make you melt on the spot, Minho pushed you gently but firmly against the wall, his body pressing into yours. He leaned in again, his lips finding yours with a confidence that sent a thrill through your body. This kiss was different from the first - a declaration of desire that had been simmering just beneath the surface.

As his hands roamed over your body, you felt alive in a way you hadn't in what felt like forever. His touch was a brand, leaving an imprint on your skin that you knew you would feel even after the alcohol had worn off. You responded eagerly, your own hands exploring the planes of his chest.

The kiss grew more intense, your tongues tangling together as you both gave in to the attraction that had been bubbling beneath the surface for so long. Your breaths grew ragged, and you felt your knees start to tremble.

Minho's hand trailed down to the hem of your shirt, his fingertips grazing the bare skin of your stomach, sending waves of heat through you. You gasped into his mouth, and he took the opportunity to deepen the kiss even further, his other hand cupping your face. The sound of your muffled moans filled the small bathroom, echoing off the tiles.

He pulled away just long enough to murmur, "You taste better than I ever thought," before his mouth claimed yours again. The words sent a jolt through you, igniting a fire that you hadn't even known was smoldering. You had imagined kisses with him before, but nothing could have prepared you for the reality of it - the way his lips felt against yours, the taste of him, the scent of his skin.

You heard Hannah shout something outside the door. The muffled sound of her voice seemed to break the spell, and you both pulled away, panting. Your eyes searched his, and the heat you found there made your stomach flip.

"I guess we should head out" you breathed out, still catching your breath. Smiling slightly at the sight of your lipstick smeared all over Minho's lips.

"I agree" Minho nodded, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. "I also agree that we should continue this later" he smirked, the desire still evident in his eyes. You couldn't help but smile back, your heart racing with excitement and nerves. He opened the bathroom door and you both stepped out, trying to compose yourselves before facing your friends.

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jakesaverse · 5 months ago

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ECHOES OF YESTERDAY | JAKE SIM CH.1

Synopsis: On her 21st birthday, Y/n wakes up overwhelmed by guilt and sorrow. It’s not just her birthday; it’s also the third anniversary of her high school boyfriend Jake’s tragic death. Surviving the accident that took Jake’s life, Y/n is haunted by memories of their love and the future they lost. In a moment of desperate longing, she makes a wish to see Jake again and is miraculously transported back in time to when Jake was alive. However, she finds that Jake now hates her, adding a new layer of pain and confusion. Determined to change his fate and earn his tolerance, she resolves to do everything in her power to ensure he escapes death this time.

Reader: Jake x Reader

Author’s note: Hi! Hope everyone is having a good day/night 🫶. The first chapter is finally out! I hope you guys like it and I know it’s all over the place and yes, it’s intentional 😭.

MASTERLIST | PREV | NEXT

You woke up with your heart pounding in your chest. The room was still dark, the early morning light just beginning to seep through the curtains. You lay there, staring at the ceiling, feeling the familiar heaviness settle over you. Tomorrow was your birthday, but it was also the anniversary of the worst day of your life.

Three years had passed since the accident, but the pain was as fresh as if it had happened yesterday. You could still hear the screech of tires, the sickening thud, and the deafening silence that followed. Jake had been your world, your first love, and he had been taken from you in an instant.

As you sat up in bed, you felt the tears begin to flow, unchecked and relentless. Guilt gnawed at your insides, a constant reminder that you had survived while he had not. "Why him and not me?" You whispered into the void, your voice trembling with anguish. Every year, this day brought a renewed sense of loss and a crushing weight of survivor's guilt.

You reached for the locket around your neck, a gift from Jake on your 18th birthday. Inside was a picture of you and him, smiling and carefree, a stark contrast to the broken person you had become. You clutched it tightly, as if hoping to draw strength from the memory of his love.

The hours dragged on, each second a painful reminder of the life you had lost. You tried to distract yourself, to push the memories away, but they were relentless. Every corner of your room held a piece of your past, a reminder of the plans you had made and the future you would never share.

You made your way to the kitchen, your movements slow and deliberate. You poured yourself a cup of coffee, the mundane task offering little comfort. As you sat at the table, you stared at the empty chair across from you, imagining Jake sitting there, his infectious smile lighting up the room.

The guilt was suffocating. You had tried to move on, to live a life that honored his memory, but it was never enough. Every laugh felt like a betrayal, every moment of happiness tainted by the shadow of his absence. You had survived, but you weren’t really living.

The day stretched on, a blur of tears and memories. You decided to visit his grave, despite it being a harsh reminder of the finality of his loss. You stood in front of the mirror, trying to make yourself presentable despite the tears streaming down your face. You thought about how badly you needed comfort, and how there was no one who could provide that except Jake.

You fumbled with your hair, attempting to smooth it down, but your hands were shaking too much. You tried to dab at your eyes with a tissue, but the tears kept coming, making it impossible to hide the redness and puffiness. Frustration bubbled up inside you as you realized you couldn't make yourself look composed, no matter how hard you tried.

The cemetery was cloaked in the deep blues and purples of twilight. Each step feels like a struggle, your legs weighed down by the overwhelming grief that has settled in your chest. The wind whispers through the trees, carrying with it the faint scent of earth and flowers, a bittersweet reminder of life and death intertwined.

You stood alone, your shoulders shaking with silent sobs as you clutch a small bouquet of Jake's favorite flowers, your fingers trembling as you approach the familiar headstone. The sight of his name etched into the cold, unyielding marble is a cruel confirmation of the reality you wish you could escape. You fall to your knees, the flowers slipping from your grasp and scattering across the grave.

"Jake," you whisper, your voice barely audible, choked with emotion. "Jake, I miss you so much." The words spill out, raw and unfiltered, as if speaking them aloud could somehow bridge the chasm between you.

Tears stream down your face, unchecked and relentless. You reach out, tracing the letters of his name with a trembling finger, your touch gentle and reverent. "Why did you have to leave me? Why did this happen to us?" Your voice cracks, breaking under the weight of your sorrow.

Memories flood your mind, each one a dagger to your already shattered heart. You remember his laughter, the way his eyes sparkled with mischief and love, the warmth of his embrace. The pain of his absence is unbearable, a gaping wound that refuses to heal.

“I can't do this without you," you cry, your voice rising in desperation. "I need you, Jake. I need you here with me." You cover your face with your hands, sobbing uncontrollably, your body shaking with the force of your grief. The world around you seems to blur, your vision clouded by tears and anguish.

As you sit there, broken and weeping, the reality of Jake's absence sinks deeper.

From a distance, Sunghoon watched you, his heart aching with every step he took. In his hands, he clutched a bouquet of sunflowers, their bright yellow petals a sharp contrast to the somber surroundings. They reminded him of Jake's infectious energy, his ability to light up even the darkest days.

Sunghoon approached quietly, not wanting to startle you. As he got closer, he saw you wipe away tears with the back of your hand, your breath coming in ragged gasps. He hesitated for a moment, then softly cleared his throat.

You turned around, your eyes red and puffy from crying. "Sunghoon," you whispered, your voice cracking.

“Hey," he said gently, holding out the sunflowers. "I thought these might brighten things up a bit. They reminded me of Jake."

You took the bouquet with trembling hands, a small, grateful smile breaking through your tears. "Thank you," you murmured. "He would have loved these."

Sunghoon nodded and took a seat next to you, the two of you sitting in a heavy silence for a few moments. Finally, he spoke, his voice filled with a mix of sorrow and fondness. "You know, Jake was always the one who could make us laugh, even when things were tough."

You nodded, your eyes fixed on the flowers. "Yeah, he had that gift."

"Remember the time he tried to start a YouTube channel with Jay?" Sunghoon continued, a small smile tugging at his lips. "He was so convinced they were going to be famous. 'The Jaykesters,' they called themselves."

You let out a choked laugh. "I remember. Jay couldn't even start the camera. He just stood there looking completely lost."

Sunghoon chuckled, the sound breaking through the tension that hung between them. "And Jake was so mad when we told him they sounded like a bunch of cats fighting. But he couldn't stay mad for long. He ended up laughing with us."

Your smile grew as you wiped away more tears. "He always had a genuine heart”

You stood in silence for a moment, the weight of your shared memories hanging in the air, but somehow, it felt a little lighter.

Sunghoon took a deep breath, looking up at the sky. "You know, Y/N, even though he's not here with us physically, Jake's spirit is still around. Every time we laugh at one of his old jokes or remember his crazy ideas, it's like he's here with us."

You nodded, clutching the sunflower tighter. "It's comforting to think of it that way. He wouldn't want us to be sad forever."

"Exactly," Sunghoon agreed. "He'd want us to keep living, to keep making new memories, and to keep each other strong."

You smiled through your tears. "You're right. And as long as we have each other, we'll keep his memory alive.”

Sunghoon put an arm around your shoulders, giving you a reassuring squeeze. "We'll get through this together, Y/N. One day at a time."

There was another silence, but not because it was awkward—though maybe it was for Sunghoon. He knew tomorrow was also your birthday, as the day of the accident the whole friend group was together before it happened. He wasn’t sure if he should say anything, but every time he felt scared or wanted to back out, he remembered Jake’s words: “Always look after Y/N.” Jake said this when they first started dating and continued to say it throughout their relationship. He knew he couldn’t always be there to protect you, so he wanted his friends, who in a way were also yours, to help him with that.

"Hey, Y/N," he said softly, trying to muster a smile. "I know tomorrow isn't easy, but I wanted to give you something."

You looked at him curiously as he reached into his big jacket. From the inside pocket, he carefully pulled out a small cupcake, its frosting slightly smudged from the journey.

"I know it's not much," Sunghoon said, holding it out to you. "But I thought we could still celebrate your birthday a little early, even if it's just a little bit."

Your eyes filled with tears again, but this time they were mixed with gratitude. You took the cupcake from him, your hands trembling slightly. "Thank you, Sunghoon. This means a lot to me."

He smiled, relieved that you appreciated the gesture. "I know it's not what you might have wanted, but I thought it might bring a bit of light to today."

You nodded, your voice choked with emotion. "It's perfect. Thank you for thinking of me."

They stood together once again in silence for a moment, the cupcake between them a small but significant symbol of their bond. Despite the sadness of the day, Sunghoon's gesture brought a touch of warmth and comfort to your heart.

You stumble through the front door of your home, your emotions a whirlwind of confusion and pain. Sunghoon's thoughtful gesture at the cemetery had touched you deeply, but it also made everything so much more complicated. It was clear that people cared for you, but the thought of celebrating your birthday without Jake, who would forever remain the same age, was unbearable.

You can't do it. You can't think of growing older while Jake is gone. The weight of it all presses down on you, suffocating you with its intensity. With trembling hands, you frame the cupcake wrapper as a reminder of Sunghoon's kindness, a small beacon of light in your dark world.

As you stare at the framed wrapper, memories of Jake flood your mind. The way he used to smile, the sound of his laughter, the warmth of his embrace. It's all too much. You sink to the floor, clutching the frame to your chest, your sobs echoing through the empty house.

"Why did you have to leave me, Jake?" you cry out, your voice breaking. "I don't know how to do this without you. I don't know how to live without you."

The silence of the house seems to mock you, amplifying your loneliness. You look at the framed wrapper again, your vision blurred by tears. "Sunghoon tried so hard to make today bearable," you whisper. "But it's just not enough. I can't do this, Jake. I can't."

With a sense of finality, you rise to your feet and make your way to the bathroom. Your hands shake as you open the medicine cabinet and take out the bottle of pills. You stare at it for a moment, the weight of your decision settling over you.

"I'm sorry, Sunghoon," you murmur. "But I just can't keep going."

You pour a handful of pills into your palm and swallow them all in one go, the bitter taste lingering in your mouth.

You sat on your bed, clutching a worn-out photo of Jake, your fingers tracing the edges of his smiling face. Tears streamed down your cheeks, each drop a painful reminder of the love you had lost. "I miss you so much, Jake," you whispered, your voice breaking. "Why did it have to be you?"

The weight of the past three years pressed heavily on your chest, suffocating you with the memory of the accident. The screeching tires, the shattering glass, and Jake's lifeless body haunted you every waking moment. You had survived, but at what cost? The guilt gnawed at your soul, leaving you hollow and broken.

As the clock struck midnight, marking your 21st birthday, you closed your eyes tightly, your heart aching with a desperate longing. "I just want to see you again, Jake. Please, just one more time," you pleaded, your voice barely a whisper.

As the darkness begins to close in, you feel a strange sense of peace. You close your eyes, your last thoughts filled with memories of Jake, hoping that soon, you will be with him again.

You find yourself surrounded by a blinding white light, so intense that you have to shield your eyes. As the light starts to fade, you notice familiar shapes and colors coming into focus. You realize you're standing in a place filled with memories—your old high school.

Suddenly, you see Jake, standing at the edge of the field, smiling at you just like he used to. The sight of him brings a rush of emotions, and memories flood your mind.

You remember the first time you met Jake in freshman year, the way he awkwardly introduced himself and offered you a seat next to him in class. You recall the countless hours spent studying together, sharing secrets, and laughing at inside jokes. You remember the way his eyes would light up whenever he talked about his dreams and ambitions.

"Hey, Y/N," Jake's voice echoes in your mind. "Do you remember our first day here? You were so nervous, but you still managed to ace every test."

You smile at the memory, feeling a warmth spread through your chest. "Yeah, I remember. You were the one who helped me calm down."

The scene shifts, and you're now reliving the time Jake asked you to the prom. He was so nervous, fumbling with his words and blushing furiously. "Y/N, would you... would you go to prom with me?" he had asked, his voice trembling.

You had said yes, of course, and the dance was magical. You remember the way Jake held you close, the soft music playing in the background, and the feeling that everything was perfect.

Just as you're lost in these memories, the white light returns, brighter than before. You blink, and suddenly, you find yourself sitting in your high school classroom, wearing your old uniform. The room is filled with students, and as you look around, you notice Jake sitting across the room, his eyes fixed on you.

He gives you a small, knowing smile, and you feel a sense of deja vu. "Y/N, are you okay?" he asks, his voice filled with concern.

You nod, trying to make sense of everything. "I... I think so. This feels so real."

Jake leans closer, his expression serious. "Y/N, sometimes the past can help us understand the present. Remember the good times and let them guide you."

You suddenly feel a jolt, as if being pulled back to reality. The white light around you dissolves, and you hear a loud, incessant beeping.

When you opened your eyes, you were no longer in your room. You found yourself back in your high school hallway, surrounded by the familiar sights and sounds of a time long past. Your heart pounded in your chest as you spotted him—Jake, alive and well. The sight of him brought a flood of emotions, a mix of joy and unbearable sorrow.

“Jake?" You called out, your voice trembling with hope and fear.

He turned to face you, but the look in his eyes was not one of love or recognition. It was a cold, distant stare that pierced your heart. "What do you want, Y/n?" he snapped, his voice dripping with bitterness.

Your breath caught in your throat, and you felt as if the ground had been ripped out from under you. This wasn't the Jake you remembered. This Jake despised you, and you had no idea why. The pain of his rejection was almost too much to bear, but you couldn't give up.

Determined to change his fate and win back his trust, you vowed to do whatever it took to make things right and ensure he escaped death this time.

taglist: @belovedsthings @en-chantedtomeetyou @syazzzlisa @k1ttylvr @jaeyunpinkyring @dreamiestay @soobs-things @capri-cuntz @beomgyusimp @heelariously @thinkinboutbin @jyunsgf @lwavander @chaewonshoney @maliakealoha @addictedtohobi @welovechaes @shaniandme @chocminteu @lilyuwon @kgneptun @dojaejunging @binniesbabe @asteria-wood

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angelwings-crossbowstrings · 2 months ago

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Whumptober 2024 No.5

Prompt: Heatstroke

Warnings: Symptoms of illness

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Fem!Reader

gif not mine - google

“His blood pressure is much lower than I’m comfortable with.” Hershel laid the stethoscope across the back of his neck. “More water please. We need to cool him off.” Maggie nodded and disappeared from the cell.

“Why was he out there digging alone?” You asked, dabbing the cool cloth across Daryl’s flushed chest, the quick rise and fall of the firm plane unnerving you to your core. When you had gone to check on him, it had been nothing more than a leg cramp—one he had shaken off and gone back to work, digging the graves of those you had lost.

The next time you had seen him was when you found him lying prone inside the very grave he had been excavating. He had been, unresponsive, panting, skin sun-hot but without perspiration, his eyes rolling behind lids that appeared almost bruised. It was a sight you wouldn’t soon forget.

Now he was in your cell, naked as the day he was born, with a towel protecting his modesty while his scars were on full display. You’d need to help him work through that later. For now, the priority was cooling him down.

When no one responded to your inquiry, you asked again, sternly, “why was he alone? There are plenty of able bodies here! Why was Daryl digging graves alone?” The people in the room avoided your gaze. You were all at fault. Yes, even you. When you were peeling potatoes in the kitchen, you could have been sharing the burden outside. Glenn was recovering, as were many others but someone should have been outside with Daryl.

“The hell happened?”

Leaning over him, you smiled down at the bleary blue eyes peering back at you. “You’re awake! Oh, thank god!” Hershel didn’t have the chance to give the order before you were scrambling for a bottle of water and practically pouring it over Daryl’s face in an attempt to get some of it into his mouth.

Coughing and sputtering, he languidly batted away the bottle, likely still too woozy to completely understand your intent.

“Y’tryin’a drown me?!” He snapped while wrestling up onto his elbows.

“You need to drink, son. And lots of rest.” Hershel advised, patting Daryl on the shoulder as he stood and hobbled out of the room on his crutches. “No more digging today. I’ll be back later to check on him.” Carol, Beth, Rick, and now Maggie stood around the doorway, each sporting a relieved smile.

“Did I miss somethin’?”

“I’ll explain after I shoo everyone out of here.” You made a dismissive gesture as you got to your feet and pulled the curtain across your cell door.

“Uh, Y/N.”

“Yeah?”

“Why m’I naked?”

#whumptober2024 #no.5 #heatstroke #the walking dead #fic #murda writes #daryl dixon #daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon fanfiction #daryl dixon x female reader #daryl dixon twd #daryl dixon the walking dead

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undercoverslutt · 9 days ago

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the diner: bestiesolderbrother! simon <- masterlist

during the summer before sophomore year.

okay imagine this, you and your bestfriends family are out to eat at this little diner in town. greasy burgers, greasy fries and sweet ass milkshakes.

fucking delicious.

your bestfriend is sat across from her parents. the parents sitting next to you, the mom being on your right side in the booth. and simon is directly infront of you. the parents keep talking to their daughter, leaving you and simon in your own bubble.

"you like?" simon stuffs his mouth with another fry, the piece of burger he just stuffed in there is making its way down already. he looks adorable, and starving.

you look equally as hungry, your burger is already half way gone, and the fries you and him share are getting down to the bottom. "i love."

there's a crack of a smile there, on his warn out face, and you smile too. food was yalls thing, you guys were either sharing the house snacks or going out to eat together in the late nights. maybe you guys were secretly high, or literally just craving chicken tenders. it didn't matter, ever since you guys met, it was like that.

his eyes leave the tray of fries, and meet yours. it's too late to look away, bc he was already squinting at your mouth. he grabs a napkin from the middle of the table and dabs your lip with the paper.

"nasty." he hushes to you. the gravely tone makes you look away, and a soft laugh leaves his mouth as you tilt ur head to help him out with the whipping. he thinks you're ashamed. he holds eye contact with you while he's whipping your mouth though.

simon does that often, just analyzing everyone he looks at. sometimes it makes you feel uncomfortable because it feels like, like he's looking into you. and maybe he wants to, maybe not.

he's got the napkin bunched into the tips of his fingers, and you swear you can feel his callused nubs brush across your lip just once. it almost feels like he's playing with your mouth. you're sure you didn't get ketchup all over your lips. but honestly, you have no clue. you were going in on your burger, and the way he was eating, you know you were doing it just as righteously. lol. but still, right now you can't help but wonder what he's thinking.

"thanks."

he nods. he moves his hand away. you both keep eating.

#simon riley x reader #simon riley x you #bestiesolderbrother!simon #phantom drabble #phantom writes

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mochatsin · 1 year ago

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THE BROTHERS ACCIDENTALLY INJURING MC (mildly)

Despite all their efforts to technically baby-proof the house, the school, or even the entirety of Devildom if they could for their human… accidents do happen after all. They’re just glad that you’re not more hurt than they initially thought!

MC is not gravely injured! Just some scratches and bruises at most. Not sure if I’ll write something for more serious injuries scenarios but we’ll see, that will be definitely super angsty for sure.

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Lucifer

He was not having it that day. Stacked reports full of complaints in regards to Mammons behavior, property damages caused by Beel’s hunger, and his pen cursed by his brothers to wail and cry whenever it’s used, Lucifer can feel himself about to explode at the next sign of inconvenience in the house while he replaces the pen to go back to work.

It’s when he hears a loud crash in the living room does he feel like he’s going to snap the pen with just his fingers. “I swear when I get my hands on those idiots…” he basically stomps his way to the door before slamming it open.

He heard a loud THUMP! From the door, but not against the wall as he expected. He paused and closed the door only to find you on the floor, rubbing your forehead. You were on your way to see how the eldest was doing and just as you were about to open the knob, the door slammed against you with enough force to make you fall back.

All that anger immediately dissipates when he finds you and immediately kneels down on the floor to check on you. “MC! Are you alright?!” Thankfully the impact wasn’t too much to draw any blood, though you’re certain you’ll get a bruise and it still hurts like hell that it’s making you dizzy.

Lucifer doesn’t want to be the cause of your tears. He helps you up gently with a worried look on his face “Come, rest in my office chair. I’ll get that treated before it starts to bruise.” it hurts him more if you struggle with standing straight.

He’ll come back with an ice pack in hand, locking the door behind him as he goes next to you to inspect your forehead and how much damage he indirectly caused. Of course he didn’t mean it but he still feels bad regardless.

He makes up for that by treating it, and he’s very gentle with you when he slightly dabs the ice pack on your forehead. His words are soft as he asks if you were okay before placing a kiss on your head.

“How come you locked the door though?” you would ask and before Lucifer can even speak, you hear the brothers banging on the other side when they heard you hit your head. “... Ah”

Mammon

There’s not a quiet day in Devildom when Mammon is always stirring up things. Demons and witches are always on his tails until he pays any of his debts that he never seems to have the money for.

There was one particular incident where you were trying to look for him in school since you have so much schoolwork to do, and Mammon was the one who insisted you both be partners for this project. Yet he’s nowhere to be found.

Of course he was running away from a few students who owed a few Grimm from. He’s grateful for being really speedy since he can use this to his advantage, but when he’s got his eyes on the coins on his hands it’s hard to pay attention to where he’s going.

He takes a sharp turn by the halls and he accidentally bumps into you, who was carrying all the project materials. Given his strength, you stumble back harder than you thought and drop everything on the floor.

“ACK! Shit– MC?! Come on, they’re on our tails!” He held your hand so you both could start running but you winced. Mammon paused and gasped when he saw the scratches on your delicate soft human skin from when you hit the concrete floor.

Mammon had no choice but to carry you all the way while avoiding the demons running after you both. When it was all safe, he checked you in case of more wounds head to toe. Would panic if there was any blood. Luckily you just got a few minor scratches on your hands and nothing too bad.

“Asmo’s gonna kill me if he saw what happened to your hands… ya okay though? Tell me if it still hurts and let's find em angels to patch ya up” he would beg Simeon not to tattle on the brothers, since they would not let him hear the end of it if they found out you got hurt. Lucifer would punish him for this happening under his watch (and his actions), even if it was an accident.

If your skin can get so damaged from just falling, Mammon can hardly imagine the worst case scenario. He keeps a close eye on you whenever there are large crowds, making sure you hold his hand the whole trip so he’s sure you won’t fall like that again.

There are times you can feel his thumb brush against the skin of your palms where it was previously damaged. You know he feels a bit guilty for that, so you intertwine your fingers as a way to reassure him.

Levi

Levi has been waiting for this package and now that it’s by his doorstep, he’s absolutely ecstatic. It was a VR set complete with this game from one of his favorite franchises. He hasn’t stopped talking about it for weeks at all and his brothers can finally get some peace and quiet in the house… they were wrong.

One would say that Levi looks a bit silly walking around the house with the headset on. The VR game was about slaying demons (ironically) but he gets to interact with the characters in 3D so whenever he sees his favorite, he would let out an excited squeal.

Lucifer instructed you to follow him while he plays to make sure he doesn’t wander off somewhere or break anything. You just have to make sure to gently turn him to the right directions or hide the glassware away from reach.

It was doing fine for a while until you took your eyes off him for a second and he’s already walking dangerously near the stairs. You know that demons can survive a stumble like that but that doesn’t mean you’ll let that happen to him! So you dive in, grabbing the sleeve of his hoodie and yanking him away from the steps.

Unfortunately, you both lost your footing and fell backwards on the floor with Levi landing on top of you. Levi was surprised and a little disoriented as he took off the headset, only to find himself above you. “W-WHA—!! MC?!?! What’s going on?!”

You hit the back of your head hard with that fall and he noticed with the pained expression on your face. That embarrassment was switched to worry. Levi helps you up and after you explain everything to him, he assists you to the kitchen to find some ice to numb the pain.

“I-i um… I'll make sure that I play this game somewhere safe, s-so you won’t have to worry about me!” Levi promises next time, already planning on searching any equipment or set up he needs to make his gaming experience much safer. He doesn’t want to burden you more than he already has.

He’s clumsy with the ice pack because he’s too nervous of hurting you more than he already did. What if he presses too hard? What if he’s doing it wrong? You’ll have to hold his hand to guide him on what to do or where to place it, and he’ll need all the self-control he needs to stop trembling from your touch.

Satan

Even from the outside of the house, you could hear all the commotion and rapid footsteps. You thought you could leave them for at least one hour while you went out to grab the groceries, and apparently they already started fighting in your absence.

It started when Satan bought a limited edition book signed by the author himself, with only 50 signed copies available. Mammon found the package first before Satan could and decided that maybe he could sell it, but he was caught before he could make any Grimm. In an attempt to get it back, Mammon accidentally tore a few pages. Now they’re both in demon forms running around the house.

“I WILL TEAR YOUR LEGS OFF YOUR BODY WHEN I CATCH YOU” Satan snarled as he tried to capture the one that ruined his precious book. Unfortunately their speeds leagues apart and only Lucifer ever has the power of catching up to his no-good older brother.

In a desperate attempt, Satan throws the book towards Mammon and hopes that maybe if he’s lucky enough it would hit him in the head and slow him down. But that wasn’t the case here.

Mammon saw the incoming projectile and took a sharp turn to avoid it. The moment you opened the door to see what was going on, you weren’t really prepared for the flying book and next thing you knew, it hit you straight to the face.

The force was enough to make you fall back, dropping all the groceries at hand. You expected to hit the floor, but you felt two hands hold you to stop you from falling.

Satan saw the moment you got hit square on the face with the book he threw and ran to catch you before you could fall and hurt yourself further. You open your eyes only to see his eyes completely filled with worry. All his wrath was completely over washed with concern for you.

“I-i’m so sorry MC! Come on, I'll get that treated quickly” He would carry you to the living room, groceries be damned, and cast a small healing spell to ease the pain and discomfort.

Satan makes sure to be more aware of your presence. Just because his outbursts can get intense doesn't mean he'd want you to get involved in the crossfire. Never does he wish to be the cause of your pain, accident or not. It took you quite some time to reassure him since he didn’t mean that in the first place.

Asmo

Asmo was excited to find that the shoes he wanted for so long had finally been released and he’s been dying to try them on. The shoes made him a few inches taller and he loves that since he was the smallest brother in the house. The heels were crafted perfectly when decorated with gems and glitter, it’s practically made for him!

One would find him strutting down the halls with his heels or putting on all kinds of glamor and clothes to match. Asmo could’ve knocked your door down with all that giddiness when he entered your room to show off his new shoes.

He makes running in heels look so easy and you listen to him go on for a while on how the color matches his eyes. By the end of his speech, he grabs your hands and practically wants you to twirl him around like a princess in the spotlight of the ballroom.

With the excitement in each step, Asmo was not careful enough and accidentally stepped on your foot. Normally it doesn’t hurt you but the sheer cheerful energy Asmo had brought about enough force to make it painful. And what’s worse… It was heels.

You wince and take a step back, letting go of Asmo’s hand in the process. He looked at you with a pout until he saw you were in pain, clenching your foot “Love? Oh gosh– Did i?”

He immediately sits you down and checks how hurt you were. Since humans are so fragile and squishy, he worried if he broke a bone or even worse! But you assure him that you’re alright.

“The reddening skin says otherwise! This is not good. We should go get that taken care of in a spa! We can get you those luxurious foot scrubs while I get a pedicure to match my new heels! Come on, I'll get your clothes ready!”

Whether or not you planned to go out today, Asmo is already rummaging through your closet to find the perfect outfit for you in the salon. You can’t exactly say no to a day off to relax, plus he won’t let you stay cooped up in your room like one of his older brothers.

The spa really was rejuvenating and the scrub made your skin so smooth. You’re not sure if this was his way of apologizing or just an excuse to bring you here but it's a win either way right?

When he brought up how you should also wear heels like his to match, you immediately decline with no room for negotiation.

Beel

Beel has brought home some rolled cigar cookies for you and Belphie to eat. They were a new flavor being sold in madam screams, Beel had already eaten several boxes and he’s made sure that he doesn't end up consuming all of the cookies he bought for you guys in one go.

He knew that these sweets would go perfect with some devil’s hot chocolate so he wanted to brew some before he brought them up to the attic.

He had two mugs at hand with the box of cookies in his arms. It’s taking all his concentration to not eat and drink all this food in his reach, especially when his stomach is already empty by the time he left the kitchen. He was so focused on trying to take his mind off his hunger that he failed to see you around the corner.

By accident, he bumped into you and one of the drinks spilled on your arms. Thank god that Beel made sure that the temperature was safe enough for human consumption (since they could probably drink at hotter temperatures), though it still hurt you regardless.

The cookies and drink was left forgotten at the nearest table he can place them as he tends to you. No blisters at least, but your skin started turning red from all that heat that Beel kept panicking as he took you to the sink to get it treated.

“I-I just wanted to bring you some hot chocolate… sorry MC” he has that sad puppy look on his face that makes it hard for you to be angry, not that you were ever mad at him in the first place. Beel spent his time running your arm by cool water to treat it, and even asked Satan to take a look at your skin.

As sweet as he was, if the burns on your skin were actually that bad then expect that he will never let you near any sort of hot drinks. He treats it as if they were poison to you. Your morning coffee? Now it has ice. Your hot chocolate? It’s iced chocolate. It took your brother’s intervention so he doesn’t ruin the soup for dinner for your sake.

Belphie

Belphie was by your side as you watched a local Devildom film in the living room. At first it was both of you watching together since the movie date was his idea, but he fell asleep for the first 20 minutes. To be fair, it was his longest record of keeping himself awake.

There are times that he sleeps so well that he unknowingly shifts into his demon form. It’s just his powers responding to his own dreams, and he’s having a really nice one at this point since it has you and Beel in it, two of his favorite people of all the realms.

You paused the movie to use the restroom for a while when that happened. While he was sleeping, his tail popped up and you didn’t know it until you tripped on it when you came back to the living room.

It wasn’t the feeling of someone stepping over his tail that woke him up, but it was the sound of your pained groans that got the youngest born open both his eyes quickly as he shot up from the couch.

If it were any of his brothers he would’ve been laughing, but he cares about you a lot. So seeing you in pain on the ground brought back some… ‘unpleasant memories’ from before. He goes to your side so check if you’re injured or hit your head too hard when you fell to the floor.

After the incident at the attic, Belphie tried his best to make sure he won't hurt you. He promised you that when you both forged a pact, and it took so much time to gain your trust again after all! Much like Beel, he is all over you in making sure you’re okay. Belphie wants to keep you safe, even from himself.

“I don’t want to watch the movie anymore… Can we just cuddle instead?” He says with a cute pout on his lips. The twins really got the same puppy eyes, making it really hard for you to say no to his naps. This time, Belphie lets your head rest on his beloved soft cow pillow to compensate for what happened.

Takes notes from Satan on how to keep his tail still, since the older demon has more control over it by keeping it wrapped around his leg. Belphie never usually worries about shifting into his demon form, but he just wants to make sure this time!

#obey me #obey me shall we date #shall-we-date-obey-me #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me leviathan #obey me satan #obey me asmodeus #obey me beelzebub #obey me belphegor #obey me headcanons #obey me scenarios

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hoseokslefteyebrow · 3 months ago

Text

The Anomaly || JJK

Chapter 14: Right and Wrong, pt. 3

summary : In which you're isekai'd from your (own) parallel Jujutsu Kaisen universe to the canon universe.

wordcount : 2.2k

Pairing: Jujutsu Kaisen X Reader, mostly platonic, you're really just part of the story

Masterlist | Next

" Oh.."

You, Yuuji and Megumi's eyes are wide as Nobara spills her cup of coffee on Gojo sensei's blouse. You don't doubt that it was most probably unnecessarily expensive.

" Shoot."

" You've done it now, Kugisaki. This is Gojo sensei's, right? "

Yuuji's words are not very helpful as he holds the blouse, a sweatdrop on the side of his head as he inspects the stain.

Nobara stares down at it, seemingly thinking about what to do.

A moment later, she's drawing on the white board, some kind of explanation going on.

" On one hand, we have Ijichi, who entrusted us with this freshly dry cleaned blouse-"

You blink at her words, leaning your head down on your palm.

Where exactly was she going with this?

"- And then there's me who spilled coffee on it. Who's really at fault?"

" You."

All three of you speak at the same time, causing Nobara to pout.

" Really Y/N? I thought at least you'd have my back in this."

You give her an embarrassed smile. Usually, in any other situation, you would. But this really was her fault. You couldn't possibly defend her from this.

" Let her be. Don't pressure her because of your mistake."

You, Yuuji and Nobara blink at Megumi in surprise.

Yes, you were aware that this universe Megumi seemed to be fond of you, but now he was even standing up for you! ( He doesn't even do that for Yuuji.)

He glances at all three of you in an annoyed manner.

" What?"

All three of you simply blink in response, not elaborating.

Moments later, all four of you are working to get the stain out of Gojo sensei's blouse.

" You gotta dab it like this. Dab. Dab."

" That's what I'm doing!"

It's not working. Roughly 20 minutes later, you're all staring at the blouse, which is positively ruined.

" Does anyone have Dasty? We might be able to get it out with that if we soak it for a bit and then throw it in the laundry again."

Yuuji blinks at your words.

" Really?"

You shrug,

" It works for most stains. I'm not a coffee drinker though so I've never had to fix a coffee stain before."

Nobara appears to not be listening, her eyes fixated on the shirt before she suddenly speaks.

" You think it could pass for a Marimekko design?"

" That would be an insult to fashion."

Nobara huffs, before turning to Megumi with a smirk.

" C'mon, I'm sure it's cheap anyway. Fushiguro, look up the brand."

You cringe.

" I wouldn't be so sure about that, Nobara."

It's kind of what you expected, but somehow even more expensive.

Megumi doesn't look surprised as he shows the price tag, seemingly unbothered by it. Nobara and Yuuji both wear grave expressions, while you bite your lip.

¥ 250,000 That's a lot of money for a blouse.

Ouch.

" A-after tax?"

" Before. Does it even matter?"

Nobara sighs, before hardening her expression.

" Fine. I'll put in ¥ 90,000. You guys can put in a little more than ¥ 53,000 each."

" Hue?!"

You agree with Yuuji.

However, right at that moment, you hear the doors of the classroom open.

Your eyes widen, before you take the blouse and shove it in Megumi's face.

" Quick, hide it in your zip up!"

" What?! Why can't you hide it in yours?!-"

" You're taller! Gojo sensei's here already!"

To your utter surprise, he actually does it.

You didn't expect him to listen.

" Morning! Ijichi said you guys had my shirt?-"

Gojo sensei's smile slips off his face, his blindfolded gaze on Megumi.

You pretend to look innocent, while Nobara and Yuuji are working hard to hold their laughter.

" What's the matter, Megumi?"

He's shoved the blouse in his zip up so quickly, that it's caused a huge bump to form.

" It's nothing."

He looks mildly annoyed as he speaks, but he's still not pulling out the blouse just yet.

Both Yuuji and Nobara break out in laughter, and Yuuji can't explain in any other way but to pull out the blouse from Megumi's collar. Their dynamic causes you to grin. Even if Megumi is irritated by what's happening.

And now, Nobara is dead.

Tears are streaming down your face as you find yourself rooted to the ground, unable to move.

" Kugisaki..."

Yuuji is on the verge of panicking, of giving up, of calling it quits. And Sukuna knows.

However, he finds himself unable to move. The marked boy is stood rooted to the ground, one arm still tight around your waist. You're not calling out to him, but he knows that he's the only thing keeping you grounded right now. The only thing keeping you from collapsing completely.

He wants to help Yuuji. He knows he has to, but he fears he's powerless. The Sukuna of this universe is merciless, a true evil. In Yuuji's eyes, Itadori Sukuna is nothing but a bad reminder of the monster who lives inside him. He doesn't recognize him as the asshole brother he is.

Death rarely shakes Sukuna. It was something that has always been that way. Sukuna always seemed to have some kind of error. He didn't have the emotions other people had. He truely cared about very few people, yet didn't mind going out of his way to help another. Yuuji and you are one of the very few people whose death he would actively mourn if it were to happen.

Nobara, one of your best friend's, is dead. But this wouldn't hit Sukuna until he had proper time to sit down. And even when he did, it was a true question whether he'd mourn her.

Sukuna swallows, before softly shaking you. He's toughing up for the two of you. he doesn't know this cursed spirit, doesn't know what's going on in this universe, but if he doesn't step up, Yuuji will get his ass beat and you'll be stuck in your head in a cycle.

There's no time for that.

Sukuna's eyes widen as the curse, Mahito, closes in, it's focus on Yuuji and Yuuji alone.

" Y/N."

He continues shaking you, trying to catch your attention. You blink through your tears, trying to regain your attention.

Yuuji gets hit with black flash by the curse. Sukuna shakes you more feverishly, trying to wake you from your numbness.

You finally snap back to Sukuna when Yuuji gets thrown into a wall.

" I need Light Fury."

Your eyes are wide, taking in the scene, taking in what's happening.

" He needs you.."

You're back, fully aware again, finally out of your shocked state.

Sukuna shakes his head, his hold on you loosening, before his arm fully slips off you.

He sighs as he faces you, wiping your tears with his thumb.

Sukuna's neutral expression was intimidating, but you have always been able to see through the way he carries himself, has always seen him as him.

And Sukuna knows he could never bring himself to be mean to you when you're crying like this.

Leaning down, he presses a short kiss to your forehead.

" I know. We can't allow their deaths to be in vain. Get me Light Fury, sweetheart. Focus on healing nobara as far as you can. I refuse to believe she dies easy."

You nod, glancing up at him. You're so glad he's here. So glad he's come to save you. So glad you're not alone in this mean universe.

You reach out beside you, focusing on your reverse cursed energy. Some kind of portal opens up behind you, the hilt of a white katana visible. Just like Megumi's shadow follows him everywhere, water is in the very air surrounding you as well. Light Fury is a weapon capable of killing special grade curses. It's loaded on reverse cursed energy. It was originally a regular weapon before Yuta brought it to you with the idea.

Sukuna rips it out of the small portal, allowing it's energy to attract Mahito's attention.

The two of you split up. You take a deep breath before focusing, drawing your ring of water with every last drop you can physically find around you as you drop to your knees besides Nobara's body.

Sukuna was right. Your best friend is tough, You couldn't accept her death just like this. She was too stubborn for that.

You focus, really focus, finally. Your eyes close as you focus on her vitals, on keeping her alive, or forcefully keeping her body going.

Meanwhile, Sukuna joins the fight.

Mahito seems impressed, avoiding Sukuna's newfound blade with an interested expression in it's eyes.

" Oooeh, you wanna join in on the fun? Found a new toy?"

Sukuna doesn't react, his eyes sharp on Mahito as he calls out to Yuuji.

" Yuuji. Get up. Stop crying. We need you. We don't have time for that."

Sukuna could never be soft with Yuuji. Not during training, and not while they might be fighting to their deaths either.

Yuuji shakes his head. He's completely given up. Completely gone. Sukuna would be one of the last people who can save him.

" You should leave. You and Y/N both. I already almost accidentally killed her. This isn't your universe. Go home."

Sukuna rolls his eyes in annoyance, a vein popping in his head. Did he really have to act all depressed now? ( Yes, Sukuna, was nowhere near soft on Yuuji. Ever.)

he doesn't need to fight Mahito long. Within seconds, he's suddenly moved to a completely different spot, his place taken by what appears to be a loose rock.

He only knows one asshole with that technique. Todo.

Meanwhile your nose has started bleeding. You're really demanding a lot from your body today, demanding a lot from both your curse energy and reversed curse energy. At this point, you're fighting to stay awake.

You're exhausted. You don't even know if Nobara is dead or alive anymore. You're fully focusing on healing her, even if it proves to be aimless. You've reached a point where your head hurts, your energy is reaching it's limits, and you can't feel her vitals.

" I- Are you okay?"

Nitta Arata is both amazed and terrified. You're surrounded by reverse cursed energy, as is Nobara's body.

His call to you makes you blink. Your vision is already hazy.

" Huh? Who are you?"

" My name is Nitta Arata. I'm here to help. My technique can stop injuries from getting worse.-"

Nitta stops talking as you collapse. The ring of water is completely gone, dissipated in Nobara's skin and the air surrounding you. Nitta watches it happen with wide eyes before rushing over. He treats you first, before deciding to apply his technique to Nobara as well. He doubts she's alive, but you had been too focused to not do that. Nitta glances at you one last time before leaving.

That was without doubt the most powerful reverse cursed technique he's seen in his entire life.

Moments later, he arrives at Todo's side.

" I've finished treating the girls over there. One's probably dead though."

Sukuna's eyes widen as Light Fury dissipates.

Had you collapsed?

Todo opens his mouth as he takes a good look at Sukuna, and behind him Nitta tenses up as well.

" I'm from Y/N's universe. I'm not going to bother explaining. We have shit to do, get to work."

Sukuna's eyes are sharp as he passes by Todo, their heights matching.

Todo can feel this Sukuna is not a threat. He has no cursed energy after all. He respects him as he passes by. Sukuna's brown eyes flit over Nitta hotly for a second, but he doesn't say anything. Moments later, he finds you, seemingly sound asleep near Nobara's side.

He huffs, leaning down and picking you up with ease. He notes the blood that seemed to have run down from your nose. You must have gone beyond your limit.

" Always getting into fucking trouble. Now I have to go find a stupid nasty Shibuya river again."

He grumbles, complaining to himself as he carries you out of the metro station, taking one last look at Nobara before sighing.

He doesn't want to leave her body behind, but he has no choice.

He glances down at your sleeping form in his arms, before shaking his head, and finding his way outside.

" So much trouble for such a little shit."

Yuuji is better off in Todo's hands.

[ A/N: Slow updates from now on bc I've got internship, school & work from now on.]

The Anomaly Taglist:

@luxylucylou @kalulakunundrum @strxbxrrylover @aethersslave @jenniferrvsesi @hanatsuki-hime @betizda @sh0uk1 @nymphsdomain

#idkeitherman #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen #platonic jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen x reader #yuji itadori #jujutsu kaisen fluff #megumi fushiguro #nobara kugisaki #sukuna x you #sukuna x reader #ryomen sukuna #gojo satoru

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the-travelling-witch · 1 year ago

Text

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐋𝐎𝐍𝐄𝐋𝐈𝐄𝐒𝐓

summary: what do they do and how do they cope after you suddenly go where they can’t follow?

pairings: xiao :: kazuha :: (abyss prince!) aether :: childe x gn! reader

warnings: angst, reader dies/ has died; [xiao] unnamed illness; [kazuha] mention of kazu's friend (tomo); [aether] somewhat graphic description of body transmutation/ body horror (just to be safe), possible deviation from khaenri'ah lore; [childe] (description of) blood, wounds, (mentions of) murder, violence over all

the loneliest- måneskin || genshin impact masterlist

a million miles away [pt. 1 - scara, venti, kaveh, zhongli]

𝐗𝐈𝐀𝐎

"You'll be the saddest part of me A part of me that will never be mine It's obvious Tonight is gonna be the loneliest You're still the oxygen I breathe I see your face when I close my eyes It's torturous Tonight is gonna be the loneliest..."

Dark clouds hung over Liyue’s skies, the air heavy and oppressive. No wind swayed the trees and the afternoon was void of the sounds of chirping birds, no doubt seeking refuge from the desolation clinging to the landscape like wet clothes to skin.

Right under the towering Wangshu Inn, a group of black-clad individuals trekked through muddy grass, hardly standing out against the gloom. It was difficult to tell day from night with the sun completely blocked from view, not a single ray of light illuminating what would usually be the beauty of the Guili Planes.

Indeed, their vastness was a beauty to behold, brimming with life and chattering travellers while the delicious smell floating from Wangshu Inn’s kitchen watered the mouths of returning adventurers. Yes, it had been a long time since anything filled Xiao with so much serenity and peace as watching the sun melt into the mountain tops while you sat with him until the stars shone their light onto the two of you. Finally, after countless millennia of wandering in the dark, he had found something akin to a home.

You had picked a magnificent site as your final resting place.

When your testament had been read, your wish to be laid down in this unconventional location had shocked your friends and family. The journey all the way from Liyue Harbour to Wangshu Inn could be a treacherous and arduous one if you weren’t prepared, so concerns about visiting and maintaining your grave grew loud. Yet, with the help of the innkeeper Verr Goldet, who was well aware of how much you had treasured your time here, assuring everyone you would be well taken care of even on your next journey, your family honoured your wish.

Piercing amber eyes watched as more mortals dressed in all-black gathered for the human rite of passing near the inn. A funeral, that was what you had called it. The purpose was the same though; a life had ended and now those who mourned offered their last respects. Separating from the crowd was the figure of the Wangsheng Funeral Parlor Director and although Xiao couldn’t hear what she was saying where he sat, he guessed she was commencing the ceremony. One after the other, members of your family took turns giving speeches and while he didn’t dare go within ear shot, he didn’t need to; the way people’s shoulders shook and how others went to embrace them and dabbed at their tears told him enough.

After a while, even the last of the mourners had left the funeral site and only then did featherlight feet graze the branches of the nearby tree in fleeting touches before the yaksha dropped to the ground several metres away from your grave. A shielded candle on your tomb was all that illuminated his surroundings. The sight of the tombstone rooted him in place, not sure if he should really approach you one more time.

After all, this was his fault.

As if the world agreed with him, the second Xiao set foot onto the path towards your eternal resting place, cold drops battered against his skin and, like black ink bleeding onto a page, they stained heaven and earth. Normally, the adeptus welcomed the cleansing feeling of the rain but on this day it did nothing to wash away the grief hanging heavy between tree trunks and rocks. Instead, it seemed to pull him under as it weighed down his feet and pressed down on his lungs. Still, he continued forward, driven by the need to talk to you again, even if it was only once more.

Even in this weather he could see how polished the headstone was, not at all withered by harsh conditions like the ones he’d come across before. There was no need for him to study the carved letters of your name or the lifespan that was hardly more than the blink of an eye to him, they might as well have been ingrained in his heart rather than this stone. Yet he flinched back when his fingers brushed the intricately written quote underneath.

“The connection between us is too strong to sever. So let us continue this eternal dance together.”

It was a conversation between the two of you he remembered vividly, both voices ringing clear in his ear. Back then, he had been scared by the consequences being together would have, especially for you who wasn’t meant to be exposed to karmic debt. But you had taken his hand and gently intertwined them; face-to-face with your warm smile, he didn’t find the power to pull away. So, instead, he foolishly brought you closer.

And at first, your time together was truly and genuinely perfect. Not only did you both learn a lot about the other’s way of life, you also showed him a love he never experienced before. Sure, his fellow yaksha had cared for him like a family but you held him so carefully as if he were something delicate, not a weapon but someone to be held dear. In the beginning, he was offended. Did you really think he was that fragile? When you, however, reassured him that even the strongest and bravest fighters need to be cared for, he silently melted into your embrace and soon he’d come to miss the feeling if you weren’t there to greet him.

It was only when simple colds turned into you coughing uncontrollably that his worries slapped him awake again. Despite your protests that you were fine, Xiao ushered you to see a doctor in the city. His anxieties were proven right when you came back with a crestfallen expression, barely able to utter the devastating words ‘chronic illness’.

Over weeks and months, you worked hard on all the therapies and rehabilitation methods you were given, yet despite your best effort it wasn’t enough. Your body could not fight back against what was happening to you and you grew weaker still. Another doctor’s appointment later, the word ‘fatal’ hung over your head like a sword threatening to fall any second.

Yet, in the face of your own death sentence, you remained strong. Far stronger than he ever could be. You spent more time with him, travelled more, tried things you never had the chance to before. To everyone else you portrayed a picture of dignified acceptance, still it wasn’t quite enough to hide your feelings from him. Not when he could hear your sniffles and suppressed sobs coming from the opened balcony door on yet another sleepless night. When he reached out to hold you, you hastily wiped your tears and showed him a wobbly smile, playfully chastising yourself for staying up too late.

The following day, you still woke up with him, made breakfast as he got ready to leave and pressed such a painfully loving kiss to his lips before he leapt off the balcony. Although it was something you did every day, there was still something off about it, something that gnawed at him all day. As he drove his spear through demon after demon, he couldn’t help but replay the scene over and over again, his mind jumping from bad to worse.

It didn’t prepare him for finding your unconscious body on the wooden floorboards of your shared home. Spear clattering to the floor, Xiao rushed over to cradle you against his chest but no matter how often he spoke your name, you wouldn’t come back to him. Alerted by the commotion, the innkeeper called for a doctor immediately but even then, they couldn’t do anything but confirm what everyone had dreaded.

The letter on the table didn’t catch his eye until much later. Next to it lay a woven charm made from an adepti technique he’d shown you and preserved qingxin flowers you had picked together. It was clumsy handiwork but to him it was more perfect than anything else. He was careful as he broke the letter’s seal and held the decorated paper between his gloved fingers. As he soaked up your words, Xiao felt his knees weaken and he had to take a seat before continuing to read. You thanked him for your time together, apologised for leaving early, expressed your hope to see him again one fateful day.

Even recalling it now as he stood in the chill of the rain made his head hurt, his soul feeling like it was being torn into a million directions. How could you be grateful, how could you be sorry, how could you miss the reason pain had befallen you? You should have been angry and should’ve yelled at him, hit him, hurt him, not comfort him. Not smiled at him or held him. He didn’t deserve your kindness and your warmth and your love.

Seeing your name carved in stone like this was much worse than Xiao could have imagined. It radiated a finality, an unyielding reality there was no waking up from. The sudden rush of his suppressed guilt flooded his mind and had the adeptus keeling over onto the muddy grass. There was a pounding in his head and he tugged harshly at his roots to make it stop. Despite having no need for food, he felt nauseous as he clutched his stomach with one hand while the other dug into the soil in front of your grave.

He should have known the black bonds would ensnare you too, the clutches of his karmic debt too powerful to escape. Despite knowing better, he still selfishly took your hand all that time ago. When he reached for you like a man drowning, he thought at first you were his salvation. Too late did he realise he was dragging you down into the pitch black depths with him.

In his foolishness, he had doomed you and now you had to pay the price.

The thought tore a pained sound from him, more akin to a wounded animal than anything human. By now it was hard for him to differentiate between physical and mental sensations, he couldn’t be sure whether the pain he felt was real or just his imagination. Just when it became too much to bear and black spots danced across his vision, a faint call of his name caught his attention.

“Xiao, breathe,” a comfortingly familiar voice reached through the fog of his mind and pulled him back to the surface of reality where he sharply inhaled some much needed air. “It’s okay.”

Looking around frantically, he searched for the origin of your voice just to succumb to the realisation that there was nobody there. Only the dancing flame of the candle in front of him moved during the descent of night. Unlike the damp tear tracks streaking his face, you were but a figment of his imagination.

Swallowing the lump in his throat, Xiao wiped over his cheeks and rose to his feet. With uncharacteristically clumsy fingers he placed a small incense burner and a jade talisman next to the silk flowers and glaze lilies left by the funeral attendees before making a fleet-footed retreat to the top of the inn.

Once again, you’d dispelled the karma threatening to overtake him when it became too overwhelming to bear. He wasn’t sure if he deserved it but he would see you again. Until then, he’d carry on with his duty and uphold his contract without falling prey to the madness within. All to be reunited with you when the time came.

When your family came to visit your grave some time later, they were positively perplexed at the pristine condition it was in. No moss covered the stone, the flowers had been replaced with vivid ones growing around your resting place and the candle had been changed out for a new one. When they asked Verr Goldet about it, the innkeeper merely smiled knowingly, reiterating that there was someone here who cared deeply for you.

𝐊𝐀𝐙𝐔𝐇𝐀

"...There's a few lines that I have wrote In case of death, that's what I want, that's what I want So don't be sad when I'll be gone There's just one thing I hope you know, I loved you so..."

The scratching of a pen filled the wooden cabin of the Alcor, the yet-to-dry ink reflecting the last golden rays of the sun. From right outside the circular window, the cries of seagulls could be heard as a flock of them returned to their nest for the night. Waves gently swayed the flagship of the Crux, the resulting sea spray carrying more salty air into the room.

Kazuha paused his writing, pen lifted over the first line of the letter as maple eyes reflected the shift of the sun from amber to a molten crimson. When it started sinking beneath the line of the horizon, he picked up a box of matches to light a candle. For a few seconds, the burnt scent of wood tickled his nose before it evaporated. Such was the nature of the world, everything must come to an end, not even eternity would change that fate; whether it was the sinking sun, the spark of a flame or the life of a treasured person.

He dipped his pen in ink once more before lifting the end to his chin in contemplation, deciding on what to fill the page with this evening. Kazuha’s eyes traced the words of the first line which were at this point engraved into his heart, then set pen to paper in practised motions.

My love,

I hope this letter finds you well.

Worry not, I’m enjoying good health myself and life on the Alcor is treating me well. Unless the crew starts drunkenly singing again; I normally do not suffer from sea sickness, however, … I leave the rest to your imagination.

Otherwise, my days have been rather quiet. Although, whenever we anchor somewhere, I’ve been granted the most beautiful of views. All the places we hoped to visit together one day, they’re as magnificent as we imagined. I wish I could show you the sceneries of Teyvat’s nations; the sunsets and sunrises, the lush forests and gurgling rivers springing from majestic waterfalls. I’m certain you’d enjoy them quite a lot.

Still, despite having seen a lot of what this world has to offer, I can confidently say, nothing compares to your beauty. Even though it has been a while since I’ve been graced by your radiance, I have no trouble recalling it before my mind’s eye. In fact, it is harder not to think of you within every waking moment and my most cherished dreams are those of you.

I see the curves of your lips in the petals of silk flowers, the brightest stars do not compare to the sparkle of your eyes and no amount of lamp grass can illuminate my nights like your smile can. When the afternoon breeze brushes my cheek I am reminded of your gentle touch, the waves whisper stories like you do while curled up by my side, the dancing glow of crystal flies is not nearly as captivating as you coming to see me.

As you can tell, you have positively enchanted me, my dear, and I find it hard to steer my thoughts in a direction which does not lead me back to you; I wouldn’t have it any other way. So, it comes as no surprise that I long for the day I will enjoy your precious company again. Oh, what I wouldn’t do to hold you in my arms again, now and forever. If I could only be granted this one wish, I truly would not yearn for anything else ever again because every moment with you feels like the calming essence my dreams are made of.

The next time we reunite, I’d be honoured to share my most recent works with you; there are quite a number of haikus, sonnets and odes you have inspired. Until then, I’d be pleased to hear from you, wherever you may currently be.

My heart belongs to you always and forever,

Kazuha

With a fond smile, the crimson-eyed samurai waited for the ink to dry before folding the letter carefully and tucking it safely away in an envelope. Reaching for the maple-leaf carved wax seal Beidou had generously gotten for him, Kazuha pressed the stamp down with measured strength. Once it had cooled sufficiently, he adoringly brushed his bandaged thumb over the seal, then turned the letter over and gracefully looped the curves of your name onto the front.

Opening the top drawer of his desk, he placed the envelope on top of the neatly stacked letters already occupying the space. Soon, he’d need to find a different place to store them, lest they quilled over. After all, there was no address they could be delivered to anymore, nobody to receive the feelings he spilled onto the page. Or maybe there was, just not on a plane of existence he could perceive.

Exhaling a tired sigh, Kazuha lifted his gaze outside his window again. There, the moon was glowing a bright white while surrounded by stars, evoking distant memories of a fluffy kitten playing amongst the flowers of an Inazuman meadow.

At the sight, he couldn’t help but wonder, were the two of you at peace? Did you meet somewhere he had yet to explore? Did you get along well? Were Tomo and you watching over him from high above, smiling to yourselves about the person he had become, the choices he made and would make? The thought filled him with peace and joy, yet also, excitement, despite the circumstances.

After all, it would mean Kazuha, too, had the possibility of joining you once his time came and that hope helped calm his heart, no matter what storm he had to face.

𝐀𝐄𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑

"...'Cause I don't even care about the time I've got left here The only thing I know now is that I wanna spend it With you, with you nobody else here Tonight is gonna be the loneliest..."

A crimson moon had risen over Khaenri’ah that night, the very foundation of the land shaking under the attacks the nation suffered. People were running for their lives on unstable footing, trying to escape the scorn of the gods, despite not knowing where -or if- they would be safe. The noise in the city was loud enough to drown out your own thoughts, cries of humans and monsters alike echoing through the smoke-filled sky.

Holding onto your hand tightly, Aether dodged several panicked people, trying not to get you caught in the chaotic mass of moving bodies as fear spread among the civilians like a plague. Both of you staggered slightly as you reached the edge of the central square when another quake of the ground sent more buildings crumbling to the ground.

After running for several more minutes and creating distance to most of the people, you stopped to catch your breath as you surveyed the destruction below. The city you had moved to was hardly recognisable, dyed in the scarlet of flames and the charcoal of smoke. In the distance, you could spot hordes of rifthounds crossing the border to Teyvat’s other nations, only further aggravating the forces of ‘divine punishment’.

Aether wrapped an arm around your shoulder and pulled you close, guiding your head to rest on his shoulder. Even as he shut his eyes, he couldn’t keep out the flashes of light wreaking devastation on the nation. Focusing on the warmth radiating from your body, the blond let his hand wander over your arm as if to confirm you were still with him. You stood like this for a while until the loudest of the noise died out and the worst of it seemed to be over.

Or that was what he thought. Because soon thereafter, shrill shrieks coming from the city pierced his ears, pitched in an agony he had never witnessed before. Not on any world he had visited in the past had a sound chilled his blood and made his skin crawl from the sheer terror it conveyed. It was a chorus of voices drifting up from below, contorted in both confusion and pain.

Frozen in shock, Aether barely felt you twitching in his arm until it turned to full-body spasms and you wrangled free from his embrace. Stumbling backwards, you clutched your head and doubled over, barely able to stand on your own feet as groans of discomfort started straining into screams as well. If he thought it was nightmarish before, seeing the person he loved scratch down their own face in torment while their voice grew hoarse from screeching in pure misery was indescribably cruel.

Reaching out to do something, anything, to help, he heard the first sickening crack of what could only be bones and his stomach dropped a little lower every time the sound echoed through the dreadful night. By the time it stopped, Aether suppressed the urge to throw up the acid in his stomach to relieve the nausea which had overcome him.

But still, that sensation was nothing compared to the ice cold dread washing over him when instead of you, a small haggard creature with a large mask covering its entire face stood in your place. It was dizzy and disoriented, yet, as soon as Aether made a move towards, it clumsily scurried away from him.

Looking down into the centre of the city, he saw a large number of strange creatures of all sizes swarm the place as the people around them dove out of their way. Overall though, the number of entities didn’t seem to have changed and there was simply no way these strange beings could have switched places with the civilians this quickly. Surely, it couldn’t be…

In a small voice, he called your name and watched as the masked creature cautiously studied him before taking a single step in his direction. A falling piece of debris hit the ground near the two of you and, quick as lightning, the thing flinched back and ran to the square where most of them had gathered, ignoring his calls to wait.

The events of that night still replayed in his mind and haunted him when he closed his eyes. Oftentimes, he’d wake with a start, drenched in cold sweat and gasping for air, startling his then travelling companion Dainsleif on more than one occasion. How could he ever forget the strangled cries ripped from your throat as you were transformed into what was now known as a hilichurl for no fault of your own.

After the catastrophe, it soon became clear that both the transformation and the immortality placed upon the people of Khaenri’ah were a curse by the gods, led by the Heavenly Principles, as retribution for the nation’s sins. But you had done nothing wrong; neither had most of the people affected. You merely moved to a place not ruled over by the gods. You were not deserving of any punishment; it was the epitome of injustice.

Over time, and despite Dainsleif’s strongly principled company, Aether’s grief slowly withered away and gave birth to frustration, anger and a certain yearning for revenge. That corrupted seed was nourished by every bloody hilichurl mask he came across on their travels, not wanting to think about what that could imply. The rest of Teyvat wasn’t even aware of the fate their beloved gods had doomed Khaenri’ahns to; to them, his fellow people were merely monsters to be slain.

First the Heavenly Principles separated him from his sister and then they took away the one person he found comfort in, who gave him stability and hope for the future. In a sickened way the thought drove him forward. Whether it was to move against the Heavenly Principles or find a way to break the curse, he needed to do something. Even if breaking the curse would reveal what he feared every time he saw a rotted out hilichurl camp to be true, he’d endure it better than the uncertainty gnawing at his stomach.

So, to his own shock, he wasn’t surprised by how quickly he warmed up to Clothar Alberich’s proposal of establishing a new organisation of Khaenri’ahns, who were able to retain their self-awareness, and aiming to topple the divine thrones. To enact his own justice upon the world, which cruelly brought its own down on him, Aether would do anything.

He’d even become the Prince of the Abyss.

𝐂𝐇𝐈𝐋𝐃𝐄

"...And I just keep on thinking how you made me feel better And all the crazy little things that we did together In the end, in the end, it doesn't matter If tonight is gonna be the loneliest..."

The stench of blood hung in the air, the taste of iron filled the Harbinger’s mouth every time he breathed in. His left eye was only partially opened as the skin around a nasty cut on his temple swole up. It would certainly bruise, perhaps even leave a scar if it went uncared for, yet he hardly spared it a second thought.

As he moved to take out the last of his enemies still standing, the edges of his torn clothes dragged through the underlying wounds and ripped open those the fabric had clung to as they started building crusts. Childe’s breathing was ragged from both physical strain and a severe blow to his rib cage, one of them probably broken by the impact. Well, this wasn’t supposed to be a one person job after all.

But all his work had been so incredibly dull recently, so he purposely sent his subordinates to the wrong location and moved in alone, just to feel the thrill of battle. Normally, a battle in which the opponent was strong enough to wound him to this degree would shoot adrenaline straight through his veins, yet, it felt like nothing but a chore to him. No pride, no joy followed him as he dragged his damp shoes through the scarlet puddles on the cave floor, not even flinching at the cracking sound as he stepped on what he presumed to be someone’s hand. He didn’t care enough to look down.

The way back to Liyue Harbour was uneventful. Those who showed their faces learned pretty quickly that Childe wasn’t to be trifled with if they valued their lives and it wasn’t long before he dropped from the roof of Northland Bank, startling the Fatui Soldiers currently switching shifts.

“M-My Lord,” one of them stammered as her eyes snapped from the tattered scarf to the droplets staining his hair a darker shade of red to the various gashes littering his body. “Your subordinates have been search–”

The Harbinger dismissed her with a mere wave of his hand and motioned for them to open the door. The two quickly scrambled to oblige, their frightened eyes still clinging to his back as he strode through the pristine halls of Northland bank, bloody footprints leaving a trail to his office. Other staff members on duty practically jumped out of his way with a simple glance at his usually bright face, fearing they’d end up as another stain on his sullied uniform.

Dropping into the chair behind the heavy oak desk while heaving a deep sigh, Childe discarded the scuffed red mask before sliding his gloved hand down his face, wincing as he put pressure on his fresh cut. Eventually he tipped his head back with a low groan.

The stale silence of paperwork and files was oppressive, adding to the pressure pounding through his skull. A tiny, rational voice in his head scolded him that this kind of reckless behaviour needed to end, that he was destroying himself. But the crazed part of his brain pushed back hard against the painful familiarity and steered his mind far away from every possible memory associated with it.

Casting his eyes down on the tabletop, he felt his mood sour even more at the fresh stack of letters waiting to be opened. Among the countless Fatui sigils, one particular envelope caught his eyes though; one with the address scribbled in childish handwriting.

Discarding his crimson-dyed gloves and picking his siblings’ letter from the pile with slow fingers, Childe opened it with careful motions. Instantly, a light flutter stirred in his chest at their antics, the stories they told from home and the instances where Teucer definitely pestered Tonia into including a certain detail.

The curve of his smile dropped when his eyes landed on the last part of the letter. Under his tightening grip, the letter he cherished so much before started to crumble and crease as his expression hardened again.

“Ajax, when are you bringing your partner again? You mentioned that they liked the dish mom made last time they visited, so I practised really hard to make it for them the next time. We’re really looking forward to seeing them again! Also mom asks when you’re getting married but I told her to be patient.”

As he stared down the words like they had personally wrong him, he didn’t notice the blood droplet running down the tip of his hair before it fell onto the letter. Childe watched as the red mixed with black, wetting the ink until the curves of your name had disappeared into nothingness, much like you had. One moment there, the next… gone.

In a moment of clarity, which came far too late, the ginger wiped frantically at the letter, trying to retrieve you but it was no use. By the time he stopped, the entire paragraph was smudged in a greyish smear of red and black.

Dropping the scarlet letter, Childe supported his lead-heavy head on his hands as he dropped forward, hunching over his desk in defeat. This time it wasn’t blood which wetted his palms but salty tears, the first ones he’d shed since your passing.

It felt as if someone had dropped a ton of bricks onto his shoulders as the glass he kept his feelings in broke and they flooded his consciousness like waves crashing onto a small fisher boat.

Almost, Childe could feel the grip of your hand in his as you were running across Liyue’s Planes, away from the chaos by his own design, your excited laughter mingling with his own until you fell into the soft grass next to each other. Or how you'd huddled together for warmth under the starry skies of his home, steaming mugs clutched in your hands. He could vividly remember how you brushed away his bangs to press a searing kiss to his temple, eyes so full of love as you looked into his.

But what did it matter now? Why look back when you weren’t next to him anymore? When he couldn’t hold you anymore or bring you back home to meet his family? The family you would have become a part of?

All at once, his wounds started to burn and ache, every breath felt like he was dying as his broken ribs expanded and sunk around his lungs. His mouth tasted bitter with blood and he fought to keep his lunch down. He cringed at the sticky feeling of exudate running down his temple and trickling into the corners of his eyes, glueing his lashes together as he blinked. Even now, you were still right. He was destroying himself. But this time, you weren’t there to stop him.

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