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cherrynpink · 7 days ago

Text

still yours

pairing: ex!mingyu x f!reader

genre: exes to lovers, second chance romance, fluff, angst, smut MDNI!

warnings: jeongcheol is the side ship hehe, bsf cheol, very angsty, bickering, down bad oc n gyu, alcohol consumption, mentions of drugs, yearning, there is a hot tub involved, if even 1 of u get the yeh jawani hai diwani reference it's worth it, flirting, mentions of threesome, making out, oral sex (f. recieving), softdom!gyu, clitoral stimulation, fingering, soft sex, emotional talks here and there, unprotected sex, creampie, happy ending!!!, lmk if I missed anything!

w.c.: 9.7k

playlist: still yours

note: this is slightly inspired by the movie yeh jawani hai diwani if any one of u get it thank u so much I love you. that specific part of party 4 u by charli xcx was playing in my head the entire time i was writing and I've been writing this for a week 😭 alsooo woke up last morning to see a 100 followers, thank u so much ☹️

p.s. can confirm the texts between oc n cheol are derivative of how me n my guy bsf text

u can message me here or comment if u wanna be part of my taglist, my requests are open if u have something u wanna read or just talk. feedback is highly appreciated hope u like this one :3

cheol🖕🏻: did u land yet?

you: at the baggage claim rn

still NOT talking to u

kys

cheol🖕🏻: very rude of u to talk to ur dear friend (who paid for ur ticket btw) like that

you: i will throw cash at u the second I see u, still not talking to you

cheol🖕🏻: DID YOU JUST WANT ME TO NOT INVITE HIM I CAN’T DO THAT Y/N

you: WOULD HAVE APPRECIATED IT IF U HAD TOLD ME BEFORE I BOARDED

cheol🖕🏻: did not want to give u the chance to run off

also tf

r u saying u wouldn’t have come to my wedding :(

you: never said that but i would be more prepared

would’ve snuck cocaine up my ass and had a few drinks at the lounge if I knew

cheol🖕🏻: they would arrest u for the cocaine babe

you: it’s ok ur lawyer fiancé can bail me out

cheol🖕🏻: he is very talented :)

you: stop thinking about dick for a second u sick freak

cheol🖕🏻: stop slut shaming me :(

did u find a cab yet?

you: yeah

will be there in 40 minutes

still NOT talking to u

sick liar

cheol🖕🏻: I WAS NOT LYING HE DID SAY HE WASN’T COMING UNTIL LIKE A WEEK AGO

you: SO YOU HAD A WEEK TO TELL ME AND YET U DIDN’T

wow

they were right

cheol🖕🏻: who’s they

you: all men do is lie

#sigh

#allmenarethesame

cheol🖕🏻: :(

you: can see u pouting through the screen

you are NOT the victim here dawg

cheol🖕🏻: y/n

it will be okay

you: it’s been 5 years. It won’t.

cheol🖕🏻: it’s not just him yk, we all are there too

it’s been literally years since we all were together and I want u to see that putting this mingyu thing aside

I put a week aside for us all to spend some time like we did

and I hope u and mingyu sort it out because it’s been ages since we were all in the room and I miss us

you: yeah ur right

i’ll behave

promise

n talk to him

cheol🖕🏻: thank you.

you: unless he decides to be a bitch

cheol🖕🏻: STOP

you: hehe :3

see u in a bit

read

Okay. Deep breathes. You can do this. You’ve spent the entire duration of your flight preparing for what to say, what to do, how to act, how to breathe (a typical one in one out would do you assumed). Spent all of the hours imagining innumerable scenarios of how meeting him again could go. How bad could it be right? You’re just meeting your ex you broke up with 5 years ago, you’ll be fine. It’s not like your break up left you an emotional mess for months and mingyu shaped hole in your heart that still remains untouched by any man that’s come in your life the past few years.

How will he react? Has he been looking forward to it? Oh my god, what if he has another girlfriend? You’re going insane. It doesn’t help that you’ll have to spend an ENTIRE week around him. He was already so good looking in college; you can only imagine how handsome he’s grown now he’s a man. Despite of still being in the same friend group, you’ve managed to barely see him since your break up because well, life. No matter how tight knit you were with your friends, people grow apart due to circumstance; whether it be due to higher priorities in life or simply distance, that’s what happened to all of you. Everyone got too busy keeping up with growing careers, and bills, and relationships- all moving away to different parts of the country.

That’s why Seungcheol organized this for all of you, right before his wedding weekend. He met Jeonghan through you, believe it or not. You were dating a guy you met on a dating app, who worked with Jeonghan. Once while you and Seungcheol had gone to a club together, you bumped into them. You and Vernon broke up, but Seungcheol and Jeonghan kept seeing each other, and the rest is history.

As you’re lost in your thoughts of your past and all your old memories, you hear the cab driver halt to a stop in front of the resort and you’re brought back to reality. And the resort is honestly gorgeous. And oh, in between Jeonghan and Cheol, they are absolutely LOADED. Because not only have they booked rooms for all their guests at the resort, but they’re getting married right on the private beach of the resort. You could imagine Cheol quitting his job in a few years and just becoming a trophy wife.

You take your luggage out of the trunk of the car and walk into the lobby of the hotel and who do you see but Seungcheol, laughing with Jeonghan as he slowly turns back to you and you see him giving you a wide smile; but Seungcheol’s eyes are still on Jeonghan- and it warms your heart. When you see them together, you get it; they make sense. You see how easy it’s supposed to be- loving someone. How so in love someone can be, that their entire world disappears, and the person they want is the center of their universe.

Finally, Jeonghan nudges his shoulder as he begins to walk to you, open armed embracing you in a hug as you can’t help but smile. As you pull away from him, right behind you is Seungcheol, wasting no time before he is absolutely squeezing you, leaving you out of breath. No matter how many times you see him, he still hugs you the same way he did 8 years ago when you first met. You don’t think you’ll actually ever love anyone as much as you love your best friend.

“Hey, leave her, she literally can’t breathe!” Jeonghan says giggling.

“You’re getting married!” you say against Seungcheol’s shoulder, still in his tight grip.

“I’m getting married” he says with a smile as he finally lets you go, his hand still wrapped around your shoulder.

“You literally saw me a week ago, what’s with all the touchiness?”

“God forbid a man be happy and love his best friend.”

“Let’s take your luggage up, everyone is already up in our room.” Jeonghan says. “Cheol, carry it.”

“Everyone’s up? Mingyu’s reached too?” you say hesitantly. There is a nervousness in your voice that neither Jeonghan nor Cheol miss.

“There’s no need to be anxious y/n.” Jeonghan says as you walk towards their room.

“Just- you know, say hi to him, hug him, smile and it’ll be over. Doesn’t have to be awkward.” Seungcheol says, as if completing Jeonghan’s thought. God. They were so annoying and perfect.

“Oh, didn’t realise I lacked basic human interactive skills guys! Yeah, thanks a lot for that.” You say in annoyance as you roll your eyes, finally reaching their room; and you can already hear the sound of laughing and someone singing from the outside.

“Y/n, literally. Chill.” Seungcheol says as he opens the door. And there they are. The people you love so much, all rushing to crowd around you. you hear multiple iterations of your name being shouted as Seungkwan becomes the first to hug you, followed by Joshua and Dokyeom. You feel so full of love and happiness your heart might just burst, because it’s been just so long since you all saw each other together. Even though they’ve all grown up so much, you can’t help but picture the moment you first saw each of them, eyes so innocent and full of wonder; and how none of your 8 years ago versions would believe how far you’ve come. It truly makes you teary.

As they all swarm you with hi-s and how are you-s, they look so excited to welcome you- sitting you down, taking your bags from you, bringing you room service they ordered; and through it all you see him walk in. Ice bucket in hand, bright smile, hair all fluffy and messy like that of a puppy, eyes sparkling; but a maturity in them that he lacked when you met him years ago. His neck shines with sweat, as your travels down to see him wearing a tight tank top with low waist baggy jeans. God, he looks better than ever. And he has gotten so much buffer than before, did he just live at the gym now? As soon as your eyes meet his, there’s a twinkle in them- as if his head is filtering through a montage of flashbacks of the 3 years you spent together.

You both realise you’ve been staring at each other far too long as an uncomfortable silence settles in the room, the rest of the group giving each other awkward glances. You see him place the ice bucket on the table as he smiles and picks you up, hugging you, spinning you around in his arms, flashbacks flooding your head. As he sets you down, your hands still on the back of his neck, his hand reaches to tuck your curtain bangs behind your ear so that he can see all of you, no piece of hair obstructing the sight in front of you.

“Hi”. he says, his thumb on your cheek. You’re panicking in your head, because all this is going way too fast, way too soon. But he’s always been like this; it’s Mingyu. Your Mingyu.

“Hi.” you reply, a soft smile on your face as your hand drops to his chest, beginning to pull away.

And the realization hits you: this week is about to be so much harder for you that you anticipated.

They all send you to your room to freshen up, because it has been a long travel and you look like hell. You’ve got the whole week to catch up; they can wait for a while to let you catch a breath.

You finish unpacking and take a long shower to rid your body of the sweat that just doesn’t stop because of the southeast asian heat and till you’re finished, it’s already evening; the sun hasn’t set yet but it adorns the horizon in a yellowish-orange hue. You’re in the middle of drying your hair, when you hear a knock on your door.

“Y/n, it’s Joshua!” you hear him call out as you open the door in the hotel room.

“We’re leaving for the beach in a bit, so get dressed.” He says casually, hand in the pocket of his loose swim shorts.

“But I just took a shower! And blow dried by hair too! they’re gonna get ruined.” You whine with a pout on your face.

“Don’t make that face it’s literally never worked on me, come on, get dressed.”

“Fine, but I’m not getting in the water.” You say accepting defeat as he leaves your room.

Knowing your resort had a private beach, you had packed tons of cute bikini sets that you couldn’t wear at home. You pick out a white floral set with a matching sarong, choosing to wear a pair of denim shorts over it till you reached the beach. And you set out the room, floral clip in hair, tote bag and light island girl makeup that you had learned on tiktok the previous day.

Your room is right next to the one Joshua and Dokyeom are sharing, so you knock on their door as Dokyeom opens it, him too wearing the same hotel robe.

“Oh y/n you look great, there are lots of hot lifeguards here.” He says teasing you.

“Why are you still in your robe after asking me to get dressed! I rushed through my makeup.” You say entering their room, and boy did it look like a mess- suitcases wide open in the middle, clothes scattered all over, empty beer bottles placed randomly around the room.

“Oh it’s my bad, I feel asleep.” He says running his hand through his hair giving you a smile.

“Damn bro you live like this?” you say scrunching you nose pointing to the mess in his room.

“Here comes miss superiority complex type A personality. You were worse in uni.”

“Yes it’s called improving yourself dokyeom, I-”

“Okay stop with the bullshit and ignoring the elephant in the room.” He says cutting you off.

“First of all, very rude- never interrupt me. Second of all, there is no elephant in the room.” You say acting innocent.

“You and Mingyu. What was that earlier.”

“Oh my god I have no idea as well! As soon as I got into my room, I was like what the fuck was that!” you say like it’s all you’ve been waiting him to bring up.

“Don’t fuck him.”

“What- I wasn’t going to do that!” you say denying these heinous allegations.

“You were thinking it the second you saw him. I know that the break up was hard for you, but you have to know it was equally if not harder for him too.”

“Well, of course I know that I mean it was mutual so-”

“I know that. Just, be careful, okay? Be friends again, we all want that. But be careful.”

“Why wasn’t he going to come until a week ago?” you ask.

“He thought you would be uncomfortable. But then me and shua convinced him to come because it was about Cheol. And it was important for as all to be here with him.”

"By the way, does he have a girlfriend?" You ask trying to act nonchalant, and he sees right through you, but decides against teasing you because you already look miserable enough.

"No he's been single for months now." He says while brushing his hair.

“Fuck, I don’t think I can get through this vacation sober.” You say as you fall back on the bed, your face in your hand.

“There are minis in the refrigerator you know.”

“Aren’t they like super expensive.”

“Cheol will pay for them.” He says handing you a mini bottle of vodka, and you down it in an instant.

“Are we going to bankrupt him this week?” you whisper feeling the liquid burn down your throat.

“Eh, he’ll earn it back. C’mon let’s go.” He says grabbing a baseball cap as he’s finally dressed and ready to leave.

On the other end of the hallway, Mingyu is absolutely panicking his room, screaming at Joshua and Seungkwan for reasons even he doesn’t understand.

“Why did I lift her up?” he screamed in frustration. “I’ve literally never done that! My plan was to give her a handshake as to not make it awkward and-”

“Yeah, because a handshake is totally not weird at all.” Seungkwan says interrupting Mingyu’s very stressful rant.

“Anything you did would be awkward when you haven’t met in years, it’s natural. Don’t worry about it too much.” Joshua says nonchalantly, as if Mingyu is not having a complete breakdown right in front of him.

He almost wants to correct Joshua that you did in fact meet once a year after the breakup, even though it ended in empty bottles of soju scattered on his side table and you wrapped around him in his bed, but he stops himself from telling his friends because you made him promise not to.

“You’re overthinking this, let’s go now, dokyeom says they’re all waiting for us.” Joshua says holding up his phone to show his texts. His friends are useless in giving advice, he thinks. He’s asking Jeonghan next time.

When he gets out of his room, he sees you laughing with the rest of the group, and he thinks he’s going to have a heart attack after seeing you in the prettiest bikini he’s ever seen; or maybe it’s just pretty because you’re the one wearing it- he doesn’t really care, but he’s not sure he’ll be alive if you take off the denim shorts on the beach and prays to god you don’t want to get into water because the only thing worse for him than you in that bikini would be you wet in the bikini.

“No but why is it that I have to share a room but Seungkwan isn’t sharing with gyu!” he hears Dokyeom complain as he approaches them.

“Because Seungkwan’s girlfriend is coming for the weekend and mingyu booked the room himself and you are alone Dokyeom.” Seungcheol says as Dokyeom pouts at the rather harsh yet true comment.

“Hey, if you have that much of an issue to share with me get a room alone.” Joshua suggests, a bit of anger in his voice hearing his friend complain.

“Okay let’s go now if you both are done.”

Once you’re all on the beach, you lay down the sheets you got from the hotel, setting down your tote bag as the rest of the guys run to the water, watching Joshua tackle Dokyeom to the ground- a payback for complaining earlier, as you laugh from a distance, left alone with mingyu. You’ve never been good at starting conversations, and it’s really easy for you to get awkward. You hope to god mingyu remembers that about you and starts the conversation. Finally you hear his voice from behind as you turn to face him.

“You’re not gonna go with them?”

“I just did my hair, didn’t want to ruin it.” You say shrugging your shoulders. “I could ask the same to you, you know?”

“I wanted to talk to you.” he says softly, and god does he look beautiful- golden honey skin shining as the sun hits just the right spot on his cheekbones, hair curling on his forehead as the wind blew them and pleading eyes that stared at you asking questions you don’t know the answers to.

“We’re going to need something to drink.” You say as you sit besides, opening one for you and him you both from the multiple six packs Seungcheol had carried because you “needed it” in his words.

“I don’t think us and alcohol is a good idea.” He says with a slight smirk as you remember what happened when you were drunk around him the last time. But there is also no way you can talk to him sober without it ending it tears or sex, no in-between. You hope that you being in a public setting near your friends would help you avoid that.

“For old time’s sake mingyu. C’mon you’re going to refuse a drink from me? It’s just a beer anyway.” You say as you forward your hand towards him, offering him the bottle and that is apparently all you needed to say to convince him.

Once you’re both a bottle or two (you can’t tell at this point) in, it’s honestly much easier. It just feels like you and mingyu. Like nothing has changed in the past few years, and it’s just you and him again like it was 8 years ago as you catch up. The conversation flows from “oh how are you” to telling each wild stories, to reminiscing about college life and every small thing you haven’t talked about since forever. You’re both so immersed in talking that you don’t even notice the guys have moved on to playing beach volleyball now, horrible beach volleyball you must say; considering you were the team captain throughout school and college- and the watching them play is torture for you.

“why’d you leave that job then?”

“because I was stagnant. It was a great job honestly, but I wanted to progress and I wanted something new.” You said and Mingyu totally got it, because that has always been you. You’ve always went with what you felt was right for you in your gut and you weren’t afraid to take risks, something he’s always admired and wished he had the courage to do. Maybe if he did, he wouldn’t have to leave you years ago. But he pushes that thought out of his mind. He’s spent years thinking about maybe-s and what if-s, so he tries to focus on you again.

“After I left, I took a vacation back home for like a month and then I got a new offer.”

“No wait I’m confused again, you left it last year and visited home, so where are you now?”

“Where I wanted to be in college.” You say with a sly smile.

“No way.” he says, covering his mouth with his hand dramatically.

“Started at Regalia a few months ago.” you say with a smirk, leaning back on one hand as you take a sip of your beer.

Suddenly you see mingyu move from the corner of your eye as he jumps onto you, hugging you from the side.

“Y/n, I’m so proud of you.”

“Thank you mingyu.” You say as your hand reaches to caress his shoulder.

“I really mean it.” He says as he separates from you. “I know it was all you ever dreamed of.”

“it wasn’t all I dreamed of.” You say, finally addressing the elephant in the room you both had been dancing around for the past hour.

“Y/n, I never meant to-” mingyu starts but is interrupted as he feels the ball hit him straight in his face, leaving sand in his mouth as you fall back, bursting into laughter, the beer almost coming out of your nose.

“Mingyu, Y/n how long are you going to sit! You have to come play now!” Seungkwan screamed at you.

“Only if you promise not to cheat!” you shout back.

After a screaming exchange between both of you for a while you finally give in, running over to them.

You and mingyu don’t complete your conversation later, blame your avoidant personality but you have the a few more days to finish it, right?

Once you’re all absolutely worn out by the very one-sided volleyball match (which your team won btw) you immediately all head back to your rooms to get some rest before dinner, but you have no time for rest because not only do you have to shower again because Seungcheol absolutely shoved you into the sand “accidently” because he doesn’t realise his own strength, but you now have to get dressed all over again. As you're already tired from the jet lag and the volleyball, you decide to keep it simple for dinner with a baby blue A-line dress and light makeup since you know your face is going to get red because of the alcohol anyways.

When you reach for dinner, you can see that you are the last one to arrive, yet again and hear half-hearted complains from the group for being late, but you know they don’t mean it. It’s good you and Mingyu talked for a bit even though you didn’t really clear the entire air around you because it’s easier for you all to just talk and catch up and drink like crazy. Seriously, after you spend more than an hour joking around and making fun of each other you realise how drunk you all are: Dokyeom is singing with the live band, going to them and literally taking the mic from them, Seungkwan is being really emotional with you and Joshua telling you and him how much he loves you both while Joshua is totally zoned out mumbling something about how difficult dating is today, and Seungcheol and Mingyu are screaming at each other for some reason. You think you’re the only one being normal, but from Jeonghan’s seat he can see you giggling like crazy and everything Joshua says for no reason and he regrets being the only one who’s not as drunk as the rest of you, and pities himself for being the one who’s going to have to take each one of you personally to your respective beds and tuck you in, otherwise there's no telling where you'd run off to.

When you wake the next morning, you have no idea how you got into your bed, your head is killing you and as your eyes hurt from the bright sunshine in your eyes and you see a blob like figure blurry in front of your eyes and a ringing sound in your head.

“You should never drink again for the benefit of society.” Is what you hear the blurry figure say to you, until you blink a few more times and see Seungcheol and Mingyu standing in front of you.

“Leave me aloneeee.” you whine as you pull the sheets over you again, before they are once again pulling it off of you.

“Y/n you sent me a detailed itinerary of everything you wanted to do with timestamps and what not. And you said you quote, would kill me and ruin my wedding if you missed any of it. So according to it, you need to absolutely need to leave in an hour.”

“Noooo! I don’t wanna do anything I was lying.” You say, still in a nasty hangover, your pillow on your face.

“You will blame me 3 hours later if I don’t do this. Now, our caterer has cancelled on us last minute so me and han need to figure it out, and you have to go with Mingyu since he’s the only one free. Be a good girl and behave, okay?”

“Never call me that again I almost puked.” you reply as you finally sit up.

“I think you almost puked because you’re still in a hangover y/n.” Mingyu interrupts as you groan into the pillow.

Finally, after a lot of arguing they succeed in getting you out of bed as you get ready and have breakfast, ready to leave to travel around the city for the day with 1000 bags in Mingyu’s opinion, which are all “essential” in your opinion. The whole day you drag him everywhere in the city, from a café to a shopping center, to touristy places, to souvenir shops; and he complies throughout it all- because if anyone can make a travelling plan it’s you. He had forgotten how much he truly missed exploring places with you and listening to you tell him about it as if you were a travel guide. You ask him to a million pictures and he does each time, because he does remember all your good angles after all. He watches you collect absolutely ridiculous memorabilia for each place, “so that I remember and have a piece of the place” you say to him; watches you shove a few napkins from the 100-year-old café, pamphlets from wherever you can find, collect beer bottle caps, tags from clothes, bills- basically everything in your sight.

You find a hidden beach with just the perfect sunset view, you and mingyu sitting on big rocks next to each other eating ice-cream. As the evening approaches you, there is just one spot left on your list, an art gallery; but as soon as you notice the time you panic, because it’s about to close in half an hour.

“Mingyu, if we don’t do the art gallery, it won’t open for another week, and we won’t be here then!” you say anxiously.

“Y/n, you’ll see many art galleries, but this sunset, if you miss it, you won’t catch it again.” He says calmly. “You can’t go about everything according to your checklist. We didn’t expect we’d find this beach, but we did and we would be stupid to leave. You can't go about life based on a to-do list, because then you miss out on experiences like this. Let’s enjoy this sunset in the moment and think about what to do next later.”

And that’s hard to argue with, so you don’t protest more, and just end up leaning your head on his shoulder. Maybe this is why you didn’t work out, you’re just too different; different mindsets, different ideology, different goals. You’re so contradicting it makes you wonder how you stayed together for 3 years. You both stay silent, staring at the waves crashing; and this time the silence isn’t uncomfortable- it’s comforting, it’s easy, it’s just you and him and the sound of the sea as you watch the sun set on the horizon together, an orange-yellow hue in the summer and a cool breeze on your face.

“Gyu” you call him softly, looking straight at him. “Why weren’t you going to come?”

“It doesn’t matter y/n, I’m here now, right?” he says as he looks at you.

“Answer me please.” You mean for it to come out a demand, but it ends up sounding like a plea.

“I didn’t want to make you feel uncomfortable.” He says looking down, avoiding your gaze.

“I could never be uncomfortable around you.” you say as you take his hand in yours. “Gyu I- I never blamed you for the break up. Never.”

“I know you didn’t, but I shouldn’t have left even when you asked me to, because you were hoping I would choose you, and I regret that I didn’t.” he says rubbing your thumb with his as he holds your hand tighter.

“Look at you gyu, look at where you are in life right now. You’ve grown so beautifully. At that moment, it was important for your career to move to-”

“I could’ve worked for my dad and stayed home y/n, and I-” he tries to argue, but you cut him off yet again, resting your head on your shoulder.

“Of course a small selfish part of me wanted you to stay, but I don’t think we would have grown as individuals if you did. You would’ve resented me for never chasing that great opportunity and I would always feel guilty for holding you back.”

“I could never resent you.” he says softly.

“I don’t blame you for leaving, because I encouraged you to; but that doesn’t mean it didn’t hurt me. But we were in different phases of life, we had different goals. And look at us now gyu” you say as you lift your head from your shoulder to meet his eyes. “We’ve become all that we wanted to be.”

“I wanted to do it with you beside me.” He says.

“I wanted to too, but we don’t have control in what’s written for us. At the time, it might’ve been the right call for us. When you left, I thought you didn’t care enough to stay and that left me a mess for days, but later I realised you left because you did care. No one can replace the love I have for you, and no one ever will. It just took me too long to realise that sometimes it doesn’t work out.”

“When you asked me to leave, you broke me y/n, because I felt like you didn’t love me as much; but I recognize my fault in that too. Maybe it just wasn’t the right time for us. But if with someone like you, it wasn’t the right time, then how could it ever be the right time with anyone?”

And for the first time, you don’t know what to say. So you just stay silent. And the silence doesn’t feel awkward, it feels good. It feels like you’ve both finally let years of heaviness and burden off your shoulders. There’s a lightness in the air around you as you continue to rub his thumb, the silence comforting you.

You don’t know how long you both sit there, just staring at the water but before you know it you’re getting a text from Joshua asking where you are.

“The guys are asking for us, we should leave.” You tell Mingyu. Once you’re both off the rock and you begin to walk away, Mingyu grabs you by your hand, stopping you.

“Y/n, we’re good?” he asks, eyes still nervous, an uncertain expression on his face looking for answers in yours. You imagine words won't do as good of a job as actions will, so you walk back to stand in front on him, taking his face in your hand and pressing a soft kiss on his cheek on your tiptoes.

“We’re good Gyu, let’s go now.” You say with a smile as you drag him by his hand.

After another night of excessive drinking that night and almost getting kicked out due to the noise complaints from everyone in the resort because of the midnight karaoke competition, you wake up the third day yet again with a killer hangover, somehow worse than the previous night and don’t even the energy to dress up for breakfast as you hear dokyeom banging on your door while you’re still in bed.

“Do you have like any pills?” he asks, rubbing his eyes as he sees you a mess, opening the door.

“I didn’t bring drugs dokyeom.”

“Shut up, now is not time.” He says as he enters the room uninvited. “I meant for the hangover.”

“Jeonghan gave me one yesterday, works like magic. Go bang on his door and get one for me too. I’m gonna go to breakfast.”

“Babe it is 12:15 in the afternoon there is no breakfast.”

Great. So now not only are you hungover, but hungry as well. Thank god for room service and Cheol’s card as well, you eat better than ever in your pajamas. He did give you the card for emergencies only, but this was an emergency, you were starving and it was on him for not waking you up earlier. Little do you on the other side of the hallway he is absolutely obliterating his intestines as he pukes into the toilet, Jeonghan holding his hair up while Mingyu and Seungkwan stays asleep in their room and not in their own for some reason. You all spent the afternoon in your rooms, just resting for once since getting there. You had initially planned to go to the club in the night; but after the state you were all in, you just chose to go to the pool in the evening and a simple dinner in one of the many restaurants of the hotel.

When you return from dinner, it’s fairly early because this night, for once, none of you drank like crazy, only some wine as you had a lot planned the next day between snorkeling and going to the club later. You’re getting ready for bed, just finishing brushing your teeth as you begin to wear your comfy pajamas as you hear your phone buzz.

mingyu: if u must know

you: i really really must

mingyu: you looked really pretty at dinner

in that yellow dress

also at the beach

you: we didn’t go to the beach today tho

mingyu: first day

when u wore that white bikini

floral

looked so pretty

you: r u drunk

mingyu: had like 2 sips at dinner

not drunk

you: u looked really pretty too

mingyu: saw u staring

you: saw some other girls staring too

mingyu: no need to be jealous baby :)

you: shut up

hate u

ur not asleep yet?

cheol was very strict on us getting up early tmrw

need to get up at fuckass dawn

mingyu: can’t sleep

Now, you have had the talk with mingyu. and unlike him, you did have a bit more to drink so you're not totally in your senses and can't be held completely responsible for your future actions. And yes, you did promise Dokyeom you wouldn't do anything like this. But also, you're just a girl who has tried so so hard to control yourself around the aphrodite of a man and simply can't take it any longer. After all how bad could it turn out, right?

you: typing

he sees you typing for a while. The little bubble appearing and then vanishing repeatedly, but then you finally say fuck it and send the message.

you: i have a hot tub

in my room

mingyu: oh

Oh. He knows where this is going, and he knows very well what game you're playing. Well, two can play at a game.

you: wanna come over?

might as well use it since cheol paid for it

mingyu: coming

You hear a soft knock on your door, as if he doesn’t want to let anyone know he’s sneaking over to your room at midnight.

“Hi” he says leaning on the doorframe as soon as you open the door, lips pursed together- a smile on his face.

You grab him by his arm and pull him in, closing the door behind him shut.

“Cheol is rich as fuck, why did he give you a hot tub.” He says pouting.

“I’m his favorite.” You say as you giggle, leading him to the tub.

“Nepotism” he loudly whispers behind you, making you laugh.

As you finally reach the hot tub, you slowly take off your short silk robe, revealing the same white bikini he liked so much on the first day as you put your hair up as to not get them wet, front strands falling on your face. You hear him suck a sharp breath in as he takes in your figure.

“You wore it for me?” he questions, struggling to get words out of his mouth.

You bend down making sure his eyes are on you, turning on the jets.

“you said you liked it.” You say, your back still facing him, but looking at him over your shoulder.

You start to get in, swaying your hips with each step you take in slowly as his eyes are transfixed on you.

“Get in gyu.” You say, your voice turning sultry, the one he remembers so well, the one you used when you begged him to eat you out, the one he’s been desperate to hear since he last saw you.

He takes off his shirt slowly, knowing your size difference always turns you on, and steps in following your lead as he sits in front of you in the small tub. You can stretch your legs fully to rest on his thighs, but poor mingyu has his knees bent in an uncomfortable position, making you laugh.

“Sit next to me.”

“Mhm but then I won’t be able to keep my legs on you.” you respond, but still get up to sit beside him.

“Do you want something to drink?” you ask innocently, hoping he catches onto what you’re implying.

“Oh I don’t think having alcohol at night with you would be a very good idea.” He says as he spreads his arms behind him as they rest on the edge of the tub.

“What? You’re scared of me?” you tease because if anything doesn’t work, you know his competitive streak and how much he loves to prove someone wrong in a challenge, but he is holding onto dear life to not be provoked by you and have some self-control even though he was the one that texted you first.

“No, but do you need to be drunk to talk to me? Am I that bad?” he says with a laugh as you accept defeat.

“I know you had fun last time.” You softly sing as you smirk and your nails trace the veins on his arm.

“I’ve had better.” He says as he smiles wide. Oh, now he is absolutely asking for it you think as your hand is quick to smack the same arm you were drawing patterns on as you hear him say “ow” and laugh.

“Shut up, you’ve never been a good liar. I know it was the best you ever had. For me though, I’ve had better.” You say as you adjust your bikini top while looking straight at him.

“Oh? Please do enlighten.” He says as he cocks his eyebrow, testing how far you’re willing to go.

“When I was working out of the states for a few months, I had a threesome.” You confess as you giggle.

In a sudden move taking you by surprise, mingyu is using his strength to scope your waist in his hands and maneuvering you to sit on his lap, legs on either side of him making contact with his half hard cock through the layers of your thin bikini bottom and his shorts which makes you gasp out loud. His hand reach to toy with the string of your bottom while the other massages your thighs.

“That’s okay y/n.” he murmurs, his eyes focused on your chest spilling out of your top before he’s bringing his eyes to look at yours- full of curiosity and shock.

“It doesn’t matter how many guys you slept with, or who you were with the past years.” He says as he gets closer and closer to your face, tucking your hair behind your ear as he whispers, “Because I was the first one.” making you shiver. And that’s your final straw as you grab his face and crash your lips into his as an act of desperation. The kiss is tense, and wet, and messy. It seems like neither of is willing to pull away as the kiss deepens, as if to make up for the lost time. You missed this. Missed him. his lips, his eyes, his hands, his everything. You had tried so hard to forget everything about him that you loved but it all comes rushing back to you as you run your wet hands through his wavy hair. His lips are as soft as they always were despite of how roughly he kisses you, knocking the air out of your lungs.

“I was the first one to make you scream baby.” he says as he pulls away, eyes hungry with desire as if he’s unleashed. “And I’ll always be the only one to make you feel that good.” He says as he thrusts his hips up lightly, making you gasp as you feel him getting bigger in size. His hands reach down to push your bikini bottoms to the side, a sorry excuse of material barely covering your pussy in the first place.

“Oh? Is it just water or are you wet y/n?” he says as his finger runs up and down your slit, as you clench at his touch.

“Remember when I first took you baby?” he chuckles. “you were so scared, holding my hand in tears begging me to be gentle. Look at you now, made you into the slut you are.” And all you can do is moan in agreement as he finds your clit, rubbing the small nub.

“Gyu, please fuck me!” you whine.

“As much as I’d love to fuck you in a hot tub y/n, I’m just too hungry baby. Wanna taste you.” he says as he pats your hips softly, pressing a kiss to your lips signaling you to get up.

As you get out with him following you behind, he reaches your claw clip and lets your hair down, your curtain bangs falling to your face as he grabs your waist from behind, leaning in to push your hair to one side as he whispers, his body pressing against yours, “you still like to be slapped around baby?” a slight playfulness in his voice, and you can practically feel him smirk against your ears before you’re turning to face and pulling him in once again into a kiss. His hands reach down to cup your ass as you continue to make out.

“I’ve missed you so bad.” You whimper in between kisses.

“Fuck, missed you too baby, not gonna make you wait again.” He says as he parts his lips slightly to let your tongue in, his grip tight on your waist. He licks and bites and sucks on your lips and tongue, making you moan into him. it’s as act of desperation, the way you hold onto him. A way of making up what you lacked and craved for so long, because no matter how hard you tried, no one ever made you cum as hard as he did, and no one made you scream louder than he did.

You waste no time in making your way to your bed, falling back as soon as the back of your legs hit the edge. he eyes you from top as you spread your legs for him easily, because you know you don’t have to do anything to get him down on his knees for you; after all old habits die hard. Before you know it, there he is, on his knees at the edge of the bed as he watches you toy with your clothed pussy like a hawk, just waiting to pounce on you. You continue to play with your soaked bottom as you see him running out of patience, eyes transfixed on you.

“Gyu, touch me please…” you whine and that was all the permission he needs to dive right in as he swats your hand away and tears off your bikini bottom in one go making you gasp.

“hey! I liked that one.” You say as he looks up to you, a cute pout on your face.

“I’ll buy you another one baby.” you hear him say faintly, because right now he’s not really listening to what you’re saying, but busy looking at what he’s been kept away for so long. You undo your top and let your tits fall and within seconds, he’s going right in, licking a long strip along your entrance, making you moan out loud and clench around his mouth as your hand reaches immediately to hold onto his hair.

“What do you want, Y/n?” he says as he peppers soft kisses on your inner thigh, intentionally avoiding the place where you needed attention the most as it dripped with your essence.

No matter how much sexual experience you’ve had, in his hands, in front of him, you turn into the same 19-year-old that was on his couch while he made you say what you wanted as you begged him for more.

“Please don’t make me say it.” You beg him with your face red with embarrassment as you hid it in your hands.

“But I taught you so well? You forgot it baby? What happened to the good girl I met?” he says as he tsks in disappointment.

“I hate you!” you cry out. “Fuck please, need your mouth gyu! Missed it so much.” You whine hoping it will do the job for him. he hands finally makes contact with your clit and he drags your wetness to it and draws soft patterns on it making you falter.

“Mhm, you used to beg better but it’s okay, you’ve been out of practice.” He says as he fakes his sympathy and finally gives you what you want, going right in. He licks and nibbles around your folds, as his hands old your thighs apart because he remembers your habit of closing your legs around his head, cutting off his oxygen; not that he’d mind dying buried in your pussy. He makes out with your cunt with no regard for your sensitiveness as you play with your nipples with one hand as the other pulls on his hair. You’re honestly too horny and needy for foreplay, but Mingyu seems to be enjoying himself too much down there, eating you out like a man starved. As he pushes his tongue in and out, the tip of his nose hits your clit rhythmically with just the right pressure and oh you’re seeing stars. He pulls away for a second as you see him swallow of a second and then spit on your center, making you gasp out loud.

“Sweetest cunt ever baby.” He says. “Can’t believe you kept her away from me. See, she misses me too!” he says as he watches you clench once again over nothing, diving in once again.

While he eats you out, you’re mumbling nonsense. “Fuck gyu! You’re- you’re the only one that makes me feel so good! I- missed you so bad! So bad, fuck!”

Hearing your praises, he inserts two fingers in without a struggle in your tight cunt, taking you by surprise. Your cheeks are red and there’s a thumping noise in your head, your forehead covered with sweat. His fingers drill into you not too slow as to bore you, but not fast enough to drive you over the edge as he sucks on your clit, but with just the right pace to keep you on the edge. there were multiple nights in the past when he would be between your thighs for hours as you were left shaking and shivering, begging him to stop because you just couldn’t cum anymore. He would eat you out for hours, pulling orgasm after orgasm out of you and making you count, and if you lost the count, he’d start from 1 all over again until he was satisfied with your poor sensitive cunt and until you had forgotten your own name, in sweat and exhaustion. You hope to god this is not one of those nights because you honestly are so close to coming, and too needy to have his cock in you.

He still remembers the little signs you give him without knowing, your little mannerism that tell him you’re close; he has your body memorized after all, every inch of it. And he can you see you unfolding in front of him; your hand that toyed with your tits is beginning to falter in it’s movement, your grip on his hair has tightened just slightly and he can see your lips slightly parted, eyes closed and nose crunched. If this was the last sight he saw before dying, he’d die a happy man. He increases the pace of his fingers just slightly, as squelching noises fill the room along with your soft moans as he talks you through it.

“Can feel you getting close. Are you close love?” he says as he looks up to you nodding frantically, eyes still closed and chuckles.

“Wanted to edge you a little more, but you’ve already waited so long, I’ll show a little mercy baby.” He says as leans down again to lick your clit and increases the pace of his fingers just slightly.

“You can come baby, let go for me.” He whispers. And that’s all the permission you need before you’re screaming his name and arching your back as you coat his fingers with your white liquid, bucking your hips ahead as to keep his fingers inside you, your eyes rolling to the back of your head as everything in front of you goes dark, your legs jelly coming down from the intense orgasm as mingyu slowly keeps moving your fingers in throughout it all.

Once you seem to have calmed down from your high, you look down to see him pull his fingers out and engulf them in his mouth, licking your cum off them clean as you see him swallow. He finally climbs onto the bed, grabbing you by your waist to manhandle you up and away from the edge as he comes down to kiss you. You can taste yourself on his tongue, and this is probably the hottest thing he’s ever done.

“Was going to make you cum a few more times on my tongue, but I’m too impatient baby, need to be inside you.” he mumbles as he takes off his swim shorts, his cock standing proudly in front of you, tip slightly red, veiny and angry. Oh you had forgotten how big he was, and how insane the stretch was each time, no matter how many times he fucked you. You see him spit on his hand and pump his length up and down.

“Can you still take it baby?” he says as he smirks, teasing you. “When you had that threesome did they fuck you together? At the same time? Because that’s the only way you’re gonna be able to one of me.” He says as his smile gets wider is pride. You did not know this was going to bite you in the ass later.

“Shut up gyuuu!” you whine. “You’ve been talking for so long, just fuck me!” you say in frustration as he laughs at you.

“Condom, baby?” he asks as he’s finally fully hard, looking around your room.

“I’m on the pill, no condom.” You whisper just loud enough for him to hear you.

“fuck, she is my girl after all.” He says, referring to your pussy as he taps in tip against your tip, “Wanna feel all of her.”

And with that, he finally pushes in slowly, just the tip so far but the stretch is far too big even after he’s opened you up. But he knows you, knows you can take it, you always do. He gives you a second to adjust to his tip before he’s bottoming out in one swift move, reaching you deep in your guts as you scream his name. he leans down to kiss you as you open your eyes to his doe eyes staring at you with the same love he had for you all this time because oh he has missed this. Missed feeling your warmth wrapped around him.

You hook your hand around his neck, pulling him in deeper. He holds your hips as you wrap your legs around him, not willing to let go. You walls seem to suck him in more and more as you clench around his length making him groan into the kiss. He pulls out slowly, making you whine at the loss of contact, only his tip left in you before he’s slamming back into you making you both moan in the pleasure. He does this a few times so that you’re comfortable with his length before speeding his pace up a bit, thrusts still slow yet so deep. His hand reaches up to hold yours and it’s a moment of intimacy which is much more than sex. This is more than sex for you, and this action of his reminds you of that as your pleading eyes look up to him and he kisses you once again while maintaining his agonizing pace. You look at each with gaze full of words unspoken, full of I miss you-s and I love you-s, full of longing and desire as his cock hits just the right spots, kissing your walls in a snug fit.

Any other day, he would go fast, making you scream his name, make you beg and plead, and you know it well from past experience. But today, he fucks you the same way he did when he took you first. Slow and gentle, full of love and care. His slow yet sharp thrusts combined with his hand in yours are getting you close every passing second. His moans mix with yours as the sounds of your wet pussy fill the room. The feeling of your arousal around him feels like heaven as it drips down on the sheets and his balls making a mess. His slender hands reach down where your bodies connect to slowly rub your clit, the pleasure overwhelming for you; not just physically but emotionally.

You feel the heat building up in your core as your senses are in overload, hips bucking up to meet him and he knows you’re getting there.

“Can feel you getting close baby.” He says, and it amazes you how well he knows and remembers your own body even after all this time. “Need you to let go with me, cum around me cock, know how tight you get, fuck!” he says as he tries to maintain the pace he’s set for you, his hand down speeding up, drawing an orgasm for you. With a particular sharp thrust and a pinch on your clit from his fingers, you whine, feeling the knot in your stomach building up to a point you can’t bear anymore as you let go for the second time in the night with a moan of his name as complete darkness surrounds you, your hand on his back digging in deeper and you’re sure the nails will leave marks. As soon he feels you clench around his cock, he follows you, his pace turning erratic as he once again brings his lips down to moan into your mouth, hips stuttering as he paints your insides white, his grip on your hand tightening.

You feel completely worn out and in bliss as his hand never stops to stimulate you poor sensitive clit, making a warm feeling run throughout your chest as he barely holds himself up on you from one arm to avoid crushing you under his weight. He kisses your cheek softly before resting his forehead on yours trying to catch his breathe. In front of him, you couldn’t look any happier; a glow on your face, your eyes shining bright at him, cheeks flushed crimson at the feeling of his warm cum filled to the brim inside you.

As he pulls out, he falls to your side as an old feeling pops up inside you as you feel the cum drip out of you. you see him sitting up, pulling you up to lean back against his chests as he pulls the sheets over you as his hand is still holding onto yours while the other runs up and down your arms. “You’re the greatest woman I’ve ever met.” He whispers into your ear, making you giggle as you swat his hand away, but pulling it back in an instant because you love his touch.

You both lay there for a moment in silence, enjoying the feeling of being close to each other again, before the sinking feeling hits you: this is not a happy ending. You’ll go back to different cities, different people, different lives and your eyes are quick to fill with tears before you hear Mingyu’s voice again.

“Y/n, I’m moving back home.” He says softly and for a second you can’t believe you’re not in a dream right now because there is no way mingyu, your mingyu, is coming back to you.

“What?” you ask in disbelief as you turn to face him.

“Decided it 2 months ago. Dad’s retiring so I’m gonna take over the business.” He says as he holds you in his arms tighter.

“So-” you start but are quickly interrupted by him as if he’s read your mind.

“So, us again?” he asks with a cheeky smile as he leans forward to look at the wildered expression on your face.

“Mhm, but we never know when you could leave again.” You say as you reach him to catch him in a kiss and lift your hand up, the back of it facing him. “You’re gonna have to put a ring on it someday to lock it down.” making him laugh.

“How many carats baby?”

422 notes · View notes

bunni-v1 · 7 days ago

Text

Wriothesley SFW & NSFW Headcannons

🍓The offical Bunni Wrio headcannons. Long time coming for me and my husband. I really wish I had the money (that also doesn't need to go into me feeding myself for the next four months) to commission an artist to draw him and my OC together. I'm so regular and normal about him. Anyway, please enjoy my thoughts. I'm a humble loser.

TW: NSFW; Rough Sex; Choking mentioned

Info: Wriothesley x Reader; NSFW below the cut; gn!reader (no explicit body parts or pronouns used); use of "walls" to refer to sexual organs

Word Count: 5.5k

-Wriothesley is both incredibly complex and very simple at the same time, and he doesn’t care if anyone but him understands that fact. He doesn’t need to be understood by anyone else, though he does appreciate it when his friends go out of their way to accommodate him.

-Quite honestly, there are only two people in Teyvat who understand the way he ticks, and he only regularly interacts with one of them. Part of this is honestly because he can’t be bothered to deepen most relationships when he’s so isolated from other people, and a more… honest and vulnerable part of him knows that he doesn’t really enjoy being known.

-His childhood being stripped from him did a number on his ability to trust, as it would any other person. He’s built up a nice, tall, icy wall between himself and most others. He’s not unreachable, of course, but most people don’t even try to get to know him when they see how guarded he is.

-Again, he doesn’t mind it. He likes the freedom it gives him, and it means he doesn’t have to worry about complicated relationships. He has enough difficulties on his plate from running the fortress in the first place, there’s no need to have any extra stressors.

-Needless to say, romance isn’t something on his mind. At all. In fact, he’s likely never had any kind of romantic relationship. He never had the chance to have one, and he naturally assumes that it’s not his thing.

-Not to say that he’s never felt anything toward anyone, he’s human, he just never acts on it. He can also easily clock when someone is attracted to him, and makes a mental note to shut them down as quickly and efficiently as possible. If he can’t, he just avoids them.

-It’s not a fear of romance, nor a disinterest in it, Wriothesley just cannot be bothered. While yes, he has plenty of free time around the fortress, he also lives there. It would be cruel to any potential partner on the surface for him to accept their advances, and anyone in the fortress was either his employee or a prisoner, and excuse him for not wanting that kind of power dynamic in his life.

-Wriothesley was content being single for the rest of his life, down under the sea in his quiet office with no one to bother him. Then you come into his life.

-Sent down to the fortress from Neuivilette after Sigewinne expressed worry about him overworking himself. She tended to mother him a little too much, and Neuivillette listened to her faithfully every time she worried about him.

-It wouldn’t be much of an issue… If Wriothesley didn’t find himself so stumped on what to give you to work on. He had a good routine that he was used to, and it got things done efficiently, so there wasn’t really anything for you to do. But when you look at him with those pretty eyes, he can’t help but find some excuse to keep you in the office with him just a little longer.

-He doesn’t immediately fall for you, of course. It’s more like a slow flutter down a thousand-foot cavern, unsure of what was at the bottom, but certain that he was falling.

-It just starts as a business, of course. You were technically his superior, as a direct aide of Neuivillette, he had to answer to you more than you did to him. You never really treated it like that, though. You were witty and playful, matching his quick tongue with your own smart jabs. It was nice to have someone on the same wavelength, and this naturally led to more friendly conversations about things outside of work.

-You start spending time with him far longer than you need to, way after either of you has finished your duties for the day, and it doesn’t take a genius to tell what's going on. There’s just one problem… Wriothesley can be a bit… dense when it comes to actual romantic tension.

-He isn’t stupid, of course, he can tell that there’s something there… but he second-guesses himself. He just doesn’t believe that you could possibly be genuinely interested in him; he brushes off the flirting, acts like he doesn’t notice the tension, and eventually, you’re called back to the surface without anything happening.

-It’s easy to shrug off everything for him, chalking it up to circumstances and nothing more. He can’t deny how it stings a little that you could easily act like it never happened, not receiving any letters sucks, but he can’t blame you. Again, he doesn’t believe he’s built for romance.

-He thinks he’s handling the whole thing fine, but Sigewinne clocks him faster than he can say his own name. She points out that within a week that he seems mopey, and that if he misses you so much, he should just visit or send a letter. Of course, he doesn’t, because that requires a level of vulnerability he admits he just doesn’t have in him yet.

-Luckily, he doesn’t need to take that first step. Pleasantly surprised when you make an unannounced visit to his office, only about a month after you initially left. He thinks that maybe Neuivilette had sent you back, but you’re not dressed like you normally would be for a shift with him. (You look very good in your casual clothes, which fluster him quite a bit more than he’s willing to admit aloud.)

-No, you hadn’t come for work or anything like that, you had – with flushed cheeks and eyes dodging his – come just to see him. You admit you had missed your chats, and thought that maybe he might’ve as well. Hoped that he had. And oh, you have no idea what it does to his heart.

-He’s not a musician, but his heart broke out into a symphony that thrummed through his whole body.

-From there, you become a regular part of his week, coming down to his office at the same time once, then twice, then nearly every day in a week. He finds himself sulking when you can’t make your regular meetings, and feels as if he is on cloud nine when he sees you. He never expected himself to be such a hopeless sap, but he supposes those romance novels weren’t exactly wrong about how much love can change someone.

-Talks over tea turn into gentle, flirty touches. Not so subtle hints at something more, but neither of you is really pushing any further. It’s a very slow build of confidence for Wriothesley, and every interaction reassures him of your shared feelings. It gives him confidence to take the next step, to go a little further, to finally put a label on things instead of pretending nothing's there.

-It’s cute how he goes about it, too. Normally, you’re the one to come down to him after you’re done with work, but instead, he greets you in the lobby of the Palais de Mermonia. He’s got a bouquet of your favorite flowers and the biggest grin on his face – he even cleaned up a bit!

-It makes you feel silly seeing him all dolled up when you’re still in your work clothes, but he doesn’t seem to mind as he hands you the flowers. Officially asking you on your first date, which is an even cuter picnic watching the sun set together.

-He’s quite a hopeless sap when it comes down to it, he’s very enamored by you, and he does get a little caught up in the newness of it all. It’s still completely genuine on his part, though. While he might have rose-tinted glasses on, he really does feel that deeply for you, and he makes good on showing you that affection.

-Now, before I get into the meat of the cutesy shit with him, we need to acknowledge some of the problems he might have as your partner.

-Firstly, Wriothesley is a very emotionally stunted person. He wasn’t shown affection for a good part of his childhood, and the affection he did receive was coated in deceit, so he struggles to express himself when it counts. He’s great at setting and respecting boundaries, but genuine emotions? Well… count him out.

-He really struggles to open up to you, despite how much he knows he should – how much he wants to. It’s just not something that comes easily from him. He needs patience, understanding, and maybe a bit of handholding through it all.

-It is a slow crawl through a lot of cold shoulders and gentle deflection, but he tries his best, and he gets there eventually. He still doesn’t really like to bog you down with his own issues, but if you reach out to him and ask him what's bothering him, he’ll tell you. He’ll allow you to take care of him and worry over his well-being and collude with Sigewinne to get him to take breaks.

-Even when he isn’t willing to let you inside, he’s still appreciative of your efforts, and he shows you through subtle acts of service. Quiet thanks for worrying, even though he’s just not ready to let you see the more broken sides of him.

-Another issue that runs right along this one is his problems with trusting, not just you, but pretty much anyone who isn’t Neuvilette or Sigewinne. (He thinks he also trusts Chlorinde, at least professionally, and Navia is nice enough, but he won’t be spilling his life secrets to either of them.)

-Naturally, you’ve already won him over a bit, so you have more of an advantage than most other people, but he’s not really transparent to start. He’s kind of mysterious, giving you little hints, but never quite letting you past the surface of the sea.

-You’re curious about his past, most people are – what with the giant fucking scars all over his body. Anyone would want to know where their partner got them, and it’s not like he’s ashamed of them… he just doesn’t want you to think of him like that.

-He doesn’t want you to know how helpless he felt all those years ago, the terrible things he did to stay alive, and how hard he fought to get to the point he was at now. Most people would call it a triumphant story, but Wriothesley wants his past to stay in his past. You were his future, and he didn’t want to see the pity in your eyes when he told you about that part of him.

-Yet, no matter how hard he tried, it was a part of him that he couldn’t get rid of. If he wanted a life with you, he was going to have to tell you at some point. He would rather he be the one to get the story to you, rather than someone else (like Neuvilette, who would tell you if you played your cards right.)

-It’s hard for him to tell you, and even harder to see how gentle you are to him as he talks. There’s a sadness in your eyes that makes his heart ache, but you don’t treat him like he’s helpless. You just let him talk, and you listen, and when he’s done, you tell him that it doesn’t change the way you think about him at all.

-You don’t make it a big deal, you just… accept it. It’s nice, and while he doesn’t know how to express that appreciation properly, he knows you know how much it means to him. You always seem to know him better than he realizes, and he thinks you can say the same about him.

-I also mentioned earlier that there’s the issue of him living in the fortress. I know most people headcannon he has a place above the surface, but that just doesn’t really feel in character for him. He has no real reason (before you) to have a home on the mainland of Fontaine, so why would he waste his time and money picking out and decorating a home when he lives in his office most days?

-After getting with you, though, he has to find a way to bridge that physical gap between the two of you more efficiently. Sure, he gets to see you nearly every day when you’re finished with work, but you always return to the surface, and he doesn’t get to wake up to you ever.

-His solution? Sleep shifts. One night he’ll come up to your place on the surface, the next you’ll stay down with him. It’s not the most efficient method, but he isn’t going to make you stay in the fortress with him, and he can’t reasonably live above ground all the time in case something happens that needs his attention.

-He loves the domesticity of seeing you when he first wakes up. You look so good with your hair all messy and drool pooling on your pillow. It’s not something he’d ever been afforded in his life, so he savors the little moments that he gets to have with you. Frequently, you wake up to him stroking your hair tenderly, watching you with all the love in the world.

-Something else he really loves is making breakfast with you. Whether he’s cooking or you are, it doesn’t matter; dancing around the kitchen while pancakes cook on the stove is a fantasy he’d never imagined he’d be allowed to live out.

-Oh, he also loves it when you help him shave his facial hair. If you like it, he’ll let it grow out a little longer than he normally would, but Sigewinne always complains past a certain point. To keep both of you happy, he lets you shave him when you both have free time.

-Seated on the edge of the sink in the bathroom, he stands between your legs with his hands on your thighs, purring out sweet nothings as you carefully run the razor over the sensitive skin beneath his jaw. It’s a surprisingly intimate moment you get to share with him, somehow made romantic with the way he holds you so close and gazes at you with unspeakable affection.

-It takes a lot of trust to let someone hold a sharp blade to your neck, and while this isn’t the same thing, it’s got the same feel.

-Something to note about Wriothesley is just how gentle he is with you. Regardless of if you’re bigger than him or not, he handles you the same way. He’s never rough with you. He never grabs you, he never pushes you, and he doesn’t ever yell at you either.

-It’s important to him that you feel safe around him. He doesn’t want you to know the sheer terror he had to face as a young child, learning that he was going to be sold off and likely slaughtered by the people who were supposed to love him.

-He does love you, with no secret motive, and he spends every second with you, displaying that with every fiber of his being. Every touch is soft, every word is chosen carefully, and every act of service is made with complete consideration of what you want. It’s like he knows what you need far before you can even think of it, and he makes it seem so effortless. It’s not, though, it’s very intentional and just a silent gesture he uses to show you how much he cares.

-Even when you argue, Wriothesley does not raise his voice. You will never hear him speak to you the way he speaks to the prisoners of the Fortress. He respects you, even when he is angry or when you are screaming at him. His cold demeanor can come off as uncaring, but you come to realize that he is acting that way because he cares. He would never raise his voice to you, ever. He loves you too much to see you cower under the weight of that.

-This bleeds into his fierce need to protect you. You are an adult, you can take care of yourself, but boy, does he want to do it all for you.

-It’s not an ego thing, nor is it a power thing; he just really likes taking care of you. It isn’t even something that’s really obvious, mostly subtle little shows of care. Like him checking in and seeing if you’ve eaten, or massaging your knots out of your back, or letting you nap on his couch after a long day. It’s usually sweet manifestations like that.

-Usually.

-As the warden of the biggest prison system in Fontaine (the only prison system in Fontaine), Wriothesley has his fair share of people who wish him ill. Comes with the job description, and it isn’t like he didn’t have that even before taking his place as Duke of the Fortress. He can take the heat, it’s not an issue for him.

-What is an issue, however, is when that ire for him is turned toward you.

-Most times it’s just stupid prisoners making a passing comment, (which he doesn’t tolerate either, but doesn’t make a big show out of. A few sharp words shuts them up quickly enough.) You brush them off fine on your own, and you can pack a punch thanks to him, so he doesn’t worry much about them.

-The issue lies with those who mean to harm him. As the Duke of the Fortress and a Pankration champion, most prisoners know he’s pretty untouchable. They don’t have the influence to undo him, and they can’t beat him in a fight. There wasn’t much to hold against him… until there was you.

-It’s no secret to those living in the fortress just how much Wriothesley adores you, you’re quite the soft spot for him. It’s obvious that those who want to get to him would try to use you to achieve that. It’s just… they never really get far enough to do anything in most cases.

-Wriothesley is so attentive to you that he can just get in the way of any plans they might have. If he can’t stop them from trying, usually a show that he knows what they’re doing is enough to get them off you. But there are the brave, stupid few.

-If anyone, and I mean anyone, tries to cause you harm intentionally, they’re a dead man walking. The second they lay a hand on you, their life is essentially over. He’s not above beating the point into their skull if he needs to. Poor Sigewinne has quite a troublesome case on her hands after that.

-Forbid if they actually lay their hands on you. It takes all of his self-restraint not to kill them, which he does not do, because he has a lot of self-control. It doesn’t stop the thought from running through his mind over and over as he escorts them to a high-security cell, though.

-While he cannot legally kill anyone, he works very hard to keep them locked up and stuck with him for as long as possible. They also become a social recluse in the Fortress, as most prisoners and employees are rather fond of you.

-It’s not a side of himself he’s proud of, which is why he tries his best not to let you see it, but it’s part of him nonetheless. He just cannot afford to lose you for any reason. You are the most important thing in his life, and losing you would devastate him to a point he’s never seen before.

-Other than that, he is usually a very gentle and loving man, wholly devoted to your relationship.

-He values any time that he gets to spend with you, be that sitting quietly in his office doing things separately but together, or having you settled in his lap as he works. It doesn’t matter much so long as he has you there.

-Speaking of, he is very physically affectionate. You wouldn’t imagine him to be, but with a partner, he just has a need to touch. He’ll settle a hand on your waist, an arm around your shoulder, press a kiss to your temple, pull you into his lap as he works, and pretty much anything that he can get from you, he’ll take.

-Something particularly charming is that when he passes you, he’ll pull you to the side so that he can kiss you. Then he moves on with his day like nothing happened. It leaves you flustered, but it’s so sweet that you can’t find yourself getting mad about it.

-He’s also a tease, through and through. He’s always poking fun at you and making silly comments to get you to smile. It’s just the way he expresses comfort around people, but he really knows how to get under your skin.

-Don’t worry, though, for as much as he can annoy you, he’s doubly sweet and caring. He always knows what you need far before you need it, and if he doesn’t, he makes sure that he can get what you need done as soon as possible.

-He’s reliable, a sturdy rock for you to lean on when you need someone there for you. While you have some issues, what couple doesn’t? Wriothesley is more than willing to go through whatever highs and lows with you, so long as it means both of you can stay happy in love for as long as possible.

NSFW :3c

-Wriothesley’s relationship with sex isn’t something that he likes to talk about for a multitude of reasons.

-He’s not some touch-starved helpless virgin, but he also isn’t the most experienced. Most of his experience in bed comes from a mutual need to get off when he was still a prisoner, a sort of agreement between him and a select few partners that kept them satisfied.

-It was rough and aggressive and honestly a little shameful looking back on it now, not something he really wanted to think about too hard. Certainly not how he wanted to have sex with you, it felt too… disconnected from his feelings.

-He also didn’t want to force things; your first time should be natural, but also intimate. He wanted to lay you out on his (or your, whichever was closest) bed and take his time with it, not bend you over his desk and make you take it. (He could do that, if you wanted him to, but not for your first time together. He was really trying not to live up to the hardened prison warden stereotype, after all.)

-Even with his own expectations in mind, he mostly wanted it to feel good. He wanted things to flow together without needing to push or pull, and he didn’t want you to feel like you had to do anything for him.

-Yeah… the level-headed Wriothesley was 100% overthinking things. You can’t blame him, though! He’s never really had sex for anything more than a feeling, and he wanted you to feel loved, not like you were an object for his own pleasure.

-This leads to him subconsciously rebuffing your advances like an idiot. You weren’t in the right place, he didn’t have any protection, it was getting too late, blah blah blah. He kept making excuses in his head as to why you wouldn’t want to have sex, when it was really him complicating things needlessly.

-Luckily for you, you had an ace up your sleeve! Sigewinne, your little gossip buddy in the fortress, heard all your woes of Wriothesley potentially not finding you attractive enough to have sex with. He seemingly never wanted to be with you, no matter what you tried or how eager you seemed.

-She shows up to his office one day with a box of condoms and some lube and tells him to get it over with or she’ll have to mix up a special little remedy to deal with it herself.

-Not wanting his first time with you to be under the influence of an aphrodisiac, he takes the hint and mentally prepares to make a move. He’s still nervous as hell because there are a million what-ifs running through his head, but the second you walk through his office doors, it’s like all of that melts away.

-Having the thought of “I’m going to do this” rather than “Should I do this” really helped him out. His usual confident and assured demeanor is back, and when you seem to imply you’d like to spend some alone time in his bedroom together, he tosses you over his shoulder (playfully, of course) and does just that.

-He allows you to take the lead the first time, mostly because he needs to figure out what you like before he can confidently guide you. So, lucky you, one of your first sexual encounters with him is sucking his dick! (The little “Oh wow” you let out seeing his size was an ego booster for sure. The following: “You think it’ll fit?” made his head as big as his dick.)

-He’s someone who learns over time, so it takes him a few times with you before he starts actively pursuing sex. He takes note of things he does that seem to get you hot and bothered. Like the way he tugs at his tie when he’s feeling overworked, or how you stare shamelessly as his arms while he’s moving things around, oh and his ass of course. That’s a fan favorite, it seems.

-It’s a slow thing, but over time, he starts using those little ticks against you. When he’s feeling needy, he makes you feel needy too. There’s a nice sense of pride he gets when you pursue him, especially when he knows you weren’t the one in the mood first.

-It’s also nice to know that he isn’t pushing any boundaries when you come to him for sex first, so he really only engages you like that if he’s sure it’s something you want. He would rather live through a hundred life sentences than ever make a move that you don’t want.

-It’s really sweet, but it can result in him getting… pent up rather frequently. The two of you already rarely have time for sex, and his suppressing his desire doesn’t exactly help either of your positions at all.

-It makes sessions after longer periods without sex come off as more… rough than he would like. He really does want to be gentle and loving with you, but he also really likes the feel of bending you in half. Quite the conundrum he’s got himself in.

-He’ll bring this fact up to you, and if you give him the okay to be rough? Well, have fun!

-Wriothesley likes it rough, as much as he wishes he could be the sweet, loving, gentle partner all the time, he can’t help that his brain lights up like a switchboard when he sees you struggling so hard against him. It stems from all that time he spends being in control of the prison; it’s very hard for him to let that go, even for you.

-Still, communication is much more important to him. You have very long conversations with him about what is and is not okay, establish a safeword that both of you can easily remember in the heat of the moment, and always make sure that both of you understand that one of you can say no at any time and it’s done.

-So, what does he like?

-Well, he likes it when you fight him. Be that verbally or physically, the fastest way to get him hot and bothered is to act like a brat. You can show that you’re smart and witty, which is already attractive enough to him, but having you intentionally get under his skin? You'd better hope no one will be needing him anytime soon.

-He has fun putting you in your place and reminding you who exactly tops who in the relationship. He even entertains you sometimes, letting you think you’re getting away with your smart ass mouth, only to suddenly bend you over his desk and remind you of your position with him.

-He doesn’t talk much, though, so don’t expect him to verbally degrade you. He thinks the position and the rough treatment should be enough to get the message across. Sometimes he might growl out a little comment about how desperate you are for him, but otherwise he’s mostly grunts and groans.

-If you physically fight back against his hold, it excites him more. It’s very unlikely you could overpower him, so all of your efforts are futile, and yet you still seem to try every single time. You push and punch and squirm, but it always ends the same way with your legs over his shoulders and hands pinned above your head.

-It’s also a given he’s into restraining you. With his need for control and easy access to legitimate prison-grade restraints, there’s just no way he doesn’t use that to his advantage. Usually, he’ll just cuff your hands to the headboard or behind your back, but occasionally he’ll bring out more heavy-duty stuff at your begging.

-Oh, that’s another thing. He won’t ever ask you to do it, because it’s an odd request in his eyes, but he loves it when you beg. He’ll get you teary-eyed and whining, and the only way to get him to snap out of his teasing is to beg him to let you cum. It works like a charm every single time.

-He also loves to overstimulate you to the point of tears. He can spend hours between your legs pushing you over the edge and watching you cum over and over for him. He thinks you’re so cute when you whine at him like that, and if you don’t tell him to stop, he probably won’t.

-He doesn’t even care about his own pleasure; he’s just so obsessed with watching you fall apart under his touch. His cold blue eyes will stare you down through the whole ordeal, watching every little twitch of your expression with rapt attention. It’s wholly overwhelming to have his intense eyes watching your every little move, but so damn hot at the same time.

-If he isn’t looking at your face, he’s likely watching the way you take him. He just can’t stop himself from staring, it’s an addicting sight to see how he sinks into you over and over – be that his fingers or his cock, it doesn’t matter. It’s mesmerizing all the same.

-And if you pleasure yourself for him? All the better. It’s nice to see you struggle to get off when he knows he can do it so much faster than you can. Almost cute the way you pout up at him when you were the one who asked him to keep his hands to himself.

-He likes to feel you, too, most of the time putting you in positions where as much skin as humanly possible is touching. The way your body reacts beneath his touch is dizzying, he can feel the pleasure twitching through your muscles as he holds you close. Oh, and feeling the air force its way out of your lungs as his hand wraps around your throat is another kind of addiction he didn’t know existed.

-The last, rather odd kink he has, one that he’s very ashamed of, is that he’s huge on smelling you. He’d lean down between your legs and just get a whiff if he could, but since that would be a bit too obvious, he settles for burying his nose into your shoulder and smelling your sweat-slick skin that way.

-Doesn’t stop him from sneaking your used underwear and pocketing it for later use – usually when he’s having a particularly rough day, he’ll bring it out and get a nice long sniff of you. Always gets his ass going until he can see you again and really let his stress out.

-Now, I mentioned earlier that he’s pretty impressive in size, and I wasn’t joking. He’s big for a regular human man. About six and a half inches long, his dick curves upward and slightly to the right, perfect for abusing your gummy little walls. He has several veins, the most prominent being one along the left side of it stopping about halfway up.

-He’s slightly darker than his actual complexion, and his tip is a pretty light red color, flatter than most other men's. The stretch he gives you is instant, as he only flares out a little from the tip. He’s about 5 inches around, too, meaning he’s not just long. Also, he’s uncircumcised, so do with that what you will.

-He knows how to keep a good balance between rough and soft, and he’s usually more intuitive about what you’re looking for in a given session than what he’s looking for from you. He doesn’t want you to think he only wants you for your body, and as such, he tries to make at least one session in a week soft and gentle if he has the time.

-Sex is a stress reliever for him, yes, but it’s also an expression of trust and love from both of you. He trusts you enough to let you see him in such a vulnerable state, and you trust him enough to treat you the way he does, because you know he would never go out of his way to hurt you ever.

#x reader #bunni's treats 🧁#genshin x reader #genshin impact childe #genshin impact x reader #wriothesley x reader #genshin wriothesley #wriothesley #genshin impact wriothesley #wriothesely smut #wriothesley x you #smut

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elodieunderglass · 3 months ago

Note

I hope your evening is better than your day was. ✨💫

In reference to me haggardly saying in the tags that after the day I’d had, everything (horrible things with legs) that my loved ones (you guys) were doing to heal me (send me horrible things with legs) was a help. And it was. And you are.

It was a tough old month already. But it’s all swings-and-roundabouts, snakes-and-ladders, win-some-lose-some, 🫴🫳.

I sleep about 9 hours in 48 at the moment, which is not especially great, owing to the Wretchedness of Mouse (2), a largely nocturnal animal. But then when Mouse is awake at Mouse o’Clock and quietly pottering around on Mouse Business, there isn’t much I can usefully do, so I’m just curled up with Dr Glass’s tablet, peacefully drawing Killie the jockey OC. As a result I’ve realised something massive for me, that my creativity is THERE, but fuelled by self-indulgence! Like, with stuff like fanfic projects and Killie, there was always a lot of “mental braking” on before, with me anticipating (based on evidence experience of posting my writing online for mumblety-many years) how much people would dislike it - put the brakes on, Elodie, we can’t let the haters know that we yearn. But hey, I started rambling on about fics and my own OCs, and YES it’s probably startling and annoying for some people and I do apologise, but ALSO you’ve all been very kind, and I think that it’s better for me to have the brakes off. 4 am takes notwithstanding, it’s better to have the brakes off. So what if I’m cringe and occasionally annoying - I have paid my dues and done my duties.

The new shed at the allotment blew down, but we have been forgiven for our carelessness in allowing it to happen, and two people on the committee have approached me with kindness - one committee member even stopping me in a shop to tell me, “people want to help you, Elodie, we’re your friends, you know.” Citation needed, but there you go.

Saturdays are always made especially for me dreadful by taking children to swimming lessons, on foot both ways, but usually we walk on to meet friends for coffee after. I go out with my friends and play board games with our neighbours and have learned how to play Wingspan.

Dr Glass received an official diagnosis of ME, but I bought a robot vacuum in the strength of that - saying, well, why assume things will ever get easier? Let’s get easy now! - and actually I really like having a robot vacuum!!

There have been more causes than I could help with, but my promotion has strengthened the coffers, so this month I’ve been able to donate to a few!

Due to childcare falling through, I had to take all three kids to an antifash protest in the cold and was dreading it - the walking, the whining, is it going to be awkward, i trust the organisers but HE’S not bringing his kids, GOD. But then my neighbour and her giant puppy came with us! on purpose! And we knew a lot of people there and the kids played.

I had to buy some clothes for work, and I never buy anything new (never having money) and was scared I’d get it wrong (stupid and weird) but I buckled up and bought these: https://www.disturbia.co.uk/products/rosamoth-button-up-midi-skirt https://www.disturbia.co.uk/products/swamplife-frog-embroidered-linen-blend-high-waist-midaxi-skirt

And it sounds bonkers, but the amount of people at work, etc, who have come up and instantly allied themselves with me on the strength of Frog Skirt / Moth Skirt has strengthened my convictions. Strongly recommend Frog Skirt / Moth Skirt and their emotional equivalents if you hit a stage of career where you need to suddenly level up.

I am thinking about counterweights. And kindness. And the balance of the turning world. And the light in the sky coming back. And, unfortunately, Killie, but he’s a counterweight too; sure, he’s awful, but we already know he contains the seeds of becoming okay.

As evidence suggests that many things do.

Thank you for your shining kindness, and my love back to you 💫

#personal life screaming into cup

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aurynsia · 6 months ago

Text

Unrequited, Terrifying Chapter 5

James Potter x Reader

Summary: The search for your mystery suitor draws to a close as you finally make an advance on your lovesick admirer…

Warnings: Extremely fluffy, nervous!james x shy!reader, some subtle wolfstar action in the background, idiots in love, oc!friends, lovesick!james, no use of Y/N, reader is referred to with she/her pronouns, secret admirer trope, strangers to friends to lovers, James gets his confidence back, aggressive flirting, NOT EDITED!

Word count: 2.6K

Series Masterlist

Chapter 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7

——————— ⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪ ———————

“Hi boys, hi Jamie!” James almost fell off his chair, gripping the table and steadying himself. Sirius snorted at the flustered boy, stumbling and flailing at the nickname.

You had approached the Marauders that morning with books piled in hand, fulfilling Remus’ offer to study with them once again that weekend. With Charlie and Hope using their free time to visit Hogsmeade, you were left to flirt with the young Potter all you desired.

You had told your friends about the growing suspicion surrounding the boy that morning, and James was about to find out just how dedicated you were to the investigation.

James watched you eagerly, eyes wide at the sight of you sitting next to him once again. “Hi, love,” he sighed, still staring in awe at your freshly washed hair and bright smile. While he tried to match your style with the affectionate nickname, his voice was laced with shaking nerves as he sought that courage that came so naturally around other girls.

The other boys were openly snickering at his lovestruck face, assuming you had caught onto James’ enamoured gestures by now. Remus pushed the History of Magic textbook between the two of you, though he didn’t say a word about actually using it. He was far too fascinated with the promising tension developing between you and his friend.

“I’ve been having the most eventful week, lads,” you began, motioning for the boys to lean in closer, with James inching his chair across to touch yours. “Someone in this school has been sending me love letters.”

After a beat of shock, all four boys started rambling exclamations of surprise and curiosity, as if they didn’t already know about your secret admirer. James gulped at your confession, mentally cursing himself for waiting just too long to react naturally. “Oh, really! That’s news! Do you, um…have any idea who it is?”

You met the boy’s gaze and whispered, “I have my theories…I mean, so far we’ve deduced it’s a boy with high intelligence, a good heart, and a crippling obsession over me.” James’ breath hitched, eyes flickering from yours to Remus’, before landing back at you.

“Well, I can’t blame him love! Who wouldn’t be obsessed with a pretty thing like you,” Sirius smirked, “In fact, I have some theories of my own about who this boy could be…”

“Well, my suspects have been narrowed down to about five Gryffindor boys, and I’m really hoping it’s the cutest one,” you held back a giggle at James’ parted lips. He prayed to Merlin that you could possibly consider him an option, let alone think that he’s the one you found the most attractive.

“But to be honest, with the way he writes about me I think I’d jump him the second he reveals himself to me, handsome or not,” you said noncommittally.

In that moment, James threw all his reservations out the window. He no longer cared if you noticed his obsession with you, the lingering stares, the flustered reactions. He wanted all of you, and he just had to do something about it. There was no point in letting his nerves dictate his behaviour around you, not after you had just given him the James Potter Flirting Experience™ opportunity of a lifetime.

“Well, say you did care about what the boy looks like…what’s your type?” James leaned closer to you, a softened grin lingering on his lips as he spoke teasingly.

You gasped, clearly shocked by his sudden change of behaviour, but responded nonetheless. “Oh I don’t know, probably…” you looked James up and down, slowly taking in his form.

“Someone tall and athletic. I definitely prefer kind boys, but he can have a little mischief to him. Probably someone with darker hair- make that curly dark hair. Light brown eyes have always caught my fancy, oh! And I love a good pair of glasses, especially when they come with a big brain and a handsome face behind them.”

James was only inches away from your face now, his small smile had grown into a stretching, flirtatious grin, smirking at you with red cheeks. His hair was curling around his smitten face as he bent to meet your eyes, forearms crossed and resting on the table.

Three mouths hung open at the explicit display of attraction in front of them, eyes sliding back and forth between you and James, as if following a thread of affection forming between you two.

“Well, are there any boys on your list that might…match that description?” Peter squeaked to break the tense silence. You held James’ gaze in your own, smiling innocently at the boy like you hadn’t just made his entire week.

“There is one, he’s my primary suspect. Though, I’m not sure there’s much evidence to prove it’s him sending me the letters…” You broke his gaze, finally looking around at the other curious faces surrounding you. “It could just be wishful thinking.”

——————— ⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪ ———————

After finally making some productive efforts to study, you and the boys began claiming your belongings that were scattered across the table and making your way to dinner.

Walking down the hallway, James matched your pace and gazed at you through his thick lenses. “So, I know you and your friends normally sit at the end of the table during meals, but we were wondering if you lot wanted to sit with us tonight,” he quickly explained as the Great Hall came into view. “I…we really enjoy your company, and honestly we regret not befriending you sooner.”

Remus and Sirius had their backs turned to you and James, though you had a feeling they were quietly giggling together at his attempted invite. “Only if your friends agree, of course! No pressure…” he trailed off, looking anywhere but your eyes as his constant fear of rejection returned and sparked nervousness in his unsure voice.

“I’d love to sit with you! I mean, all of you. I’ll grab my friends,” you replied as the doors to the hall opened and you made your way inside.

“Brilliant.”

Scurrying over to your friends, you cleared your throat and made your announcement. “My dearest, loyal companions. For one night, and one night only…can we PLEASE sit with the Marauders? I think James and I are really making some progress here and they’re honestly not that bad!” Ok, maybe more of a blurted confession than an announcement, but the intention was there.

“I mean, I wouldn’t be opposed to it, if it means so much to one of my best friends. But what happened to the Gryffindor ego that seems to follow those boys around everywhere they go?” Charlie asked, a tinge of confusion lacing her giggling voice.

“I haven’t quite figured that bit out yet, but I think there’s more to them than meets the eye. They’re actually quite lovely,” you explained, watching your friends slowly stand from their places at the table and fall into step with you, plates in hand, agreeing in their trust of your judgement.

“You know,” Hope whispered as you approached the group, “I’m really proud of you. You’re opening up, it’s refreshing to see. And you’re starting to convince me that this house might actually be not so bad, after all. You’re really brave.”

You grinned at the girl, arm taking her shoulders in your grasp and squeezing in appreciation. “That means a lot, Hope, thank you.”

“Hey! We didn’t think you’d come!” Remus exclaimed as the three of you piled into the space saved next to James. “Although, James did get you a plate of food in anticipation.”

You glanced at the boy’s bashful smile, then down at the plate he placed in front of you. Charlie, Hope, and the remaining Marauders shared knowing looks.

“Oh! This is my favourite! How did you-“

“I see you take a serving every night-“

“Thank you, Jamie, you’re so kind…”

The nickname came to you naturally as your rambling distracted you from considering what you were saying. His cheeks glowed with that familiar red tint, grinning at you with squinted eyes and a puffed chest.

The conversation carried naturally between James’ friends and your own, all giggling and smiling at each other’s witty remarks. As the night continued, you found yourself slowly leaning more into James, a service to his heart which he gratefully accepted with open arms.

His arm moved to rest across your back, hand pressed into the seat beside you and inching you slightly forward on your chair, a position that almost mimicked an embrace without being too daring.

You felt warm near his toned chest, glancing at him affectionately every now and then. You missed every time he glanced back with that same lovesick expression.

“Oh, I’ve been meaning to ask! Seeing as we have a curfew for the next few days, and the History of Magic assignment is due next week, I thought you might want to pop by our dorm to study sometime.” Remus had been such a supportive new friend towards you over the past few days, intentional or not, so you nodded eagerly at his proposition.

Walking back to your dorm after a long dinner filled with laughs and smiles, you and your friends wished the others goodnight as you parted ways. Your eyes lingered on James, as his did you, before turning to your group with a smile. The silence only lasted a matter of seconds.

“OH MY GOD HE’S OBSESSED WITH YOU!”

“Charlie! Keep your voice down!”

——————— ⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪ ———————

James started jogging to keep up with Peter and Sirius as they left the grounds of Hogwarts. Escaping the school was a three man job, much to James’ disappointment. Remus was left in the dorm to study with you, meaning he was obligated to join the trip. What could be more important than spending time with you?

“C’mon, Prongs, head up! You can get some sweets to woo her with on our way back,” Sirius reassured him. The days spent studying with you meant the group had missed the school allowed trip to Hogsmeade, something James insisted would be worth sacrificing every butterbeer for.

“We’ll be quick, I promise! You know I can’t survive without sugar in my system!” Sirius continued rambling as the three entered Honeydukes just before closing.

James quickly gathered a bag of chocolate frogs, buying way too many for just one person so he’d have an excuse for offering them to you. They quickly payed and dashed out of the store as the workers began to turn off the lights and lock the doors.

The walk back to Hogwarts was cold and windy, but James didn’t care. He’d get to spend time with you in the comfort of his own room, all the people he cared the most about in one place. He was planning how he would confess to you on the way back, playing out every scenario in his mind.

The best case in his imagination was simply holding up a blue envelope, wiggling his eyebrows, and grinning at you like a fool while you jumped into his arms and kissed him to death.

James had a stupid look of burning adoration on his face as the three finally entered the common room and headed to their dorm.

“Honey, I’m home!” Sirius called to Remus as he opened the door. “We brought necessary supplies and-“ He was cut short by the sight in front of him. Slowly, he inched further into the room, rounding the corner and letting Peter in with a gasp. Peter then made room for James in the doorway, glancing at him with sympathy.

The chocolate frogs dropped to the floor.

——————— ⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪ ———————

The night was quiet in the Marauders’ dorm room. Remus had taken his seat on his bed as you were sat at his desk. The soft scribbling sounds of pen against paper filled the otherwise silent space as the two of you enjoyed the warmth of your newfound friendship.

After a few hours of comparing notes, quizzing each other, and chatting about your friends, Remus stood from his bed. “I might go get changed and wash up, you need anything?”

You glanced at your almost empty pot of ink, then to the fading pigment leaking from your quill. “Do you have any spare ink?”

“I don’t have any, but James definitely would. He wouldn’t mind you using it, Merlin, he’d probably thank you for touching his possessions. Try his desk over there,” he nodded across the room, leaving you to search for supplies with a chuckle.

Moving to James’ desk, you carefully shifted through his neatly organised stationary. Textbooks lined the point where the desk met the wall, and you spotted an unopened bottle of ink right next to the stack.

As you reached for the bottle, you noticed something sticking out of the closest textbook, one for your shared Potions class. The paper was dusted in a light blue shade.

You shouldn’t look through other people’s belongings, you thought, and bit back the curiosity nipping at your integrity.

You turned back to Remus’ desk, ink in hand, knocking the textbooks over in the process.

“Godric! So clumsy…” you mumbled, picking up two textbooks, a few pages of notes and…a baby blue envelope.

You stared at the material in your hand, brain refusing to believe what your heart knew to be true. Your eyes slowly drifted from the envelope in one hand to the notes in the other. The stationary, the handwriting, the nervous interactions…it all made sense.

“Honey, I’m home! We brought necessary supplies and-“ Your eyes met the source of the sound, Sirius standing in the doorway with his mouth agape. He slowly entered the room, followed by Peter, then by James.

Your face glowed with a guilty expression as James dropped his most recent purchase. You stared at him in confusion, which he returned with a look of embarrassment. You then remembered to address the elephant in the room: the envelope in your hand.

“Oh, Merlin, James- I’m so sorry! I ran out of ink and Remus said you wouldn’t mind if I used yours while he went to wash up, so I took it and knocked over all your books in the process, it slid out and I didn’t know what to do, it’s all my fault! I’m so sorry, I didn’t want it to happen like this…”

James’ expression shifted sympathetically at your rambling, composing himself and moving closer to your worried form. The other boys quietly walked back out of the room, giving you some privacy as they shut the door behind them.

“No, darling, don’t blame yourself, it’s not your fault,” he said with faltering confidence, “I meant to tell you, I really did. I was going to talk to you after my next Quidditch match - assuming we would win - because I needed the confidence to tell you. I’m so sorry, love, I really am. I hope you aren’t…disappointed…” he looked at his shoes, voice nothing more than a whisper.

“Did you mean it?”

“W-what?”

“Everything you wrote to me, did you mean it?” You clarified, a hopeful feeling washing over you. James gulped, shifting his weight between his feet as he blushed harder than ever before. “I meant every word.” It came out as a hoarse whisper as he choked on his nerves.

“Good, because I really like you, James. I honestly always have and I hadn’t even said a word to you until this year- But I desperately wanted to believe you were behind all of this, because I think you’re so charming and smart and, surprisingly, very kind.” You caught your breath after your confession, heart racing as a proud, self-assured smile emerged on your otherwise shy face.

Silence fell upon the room. You searched each other’s gaze for any evidence of ingenuity or doubt. You found none. James eventually made a sound from his parted lips.

“Willyougooutwithme!?”

——————— ⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪ ———————

AN: Oh my god this is a long one! But you KNOW I had to make some serious progress on this relationship >:3 I hope this reveal hit the spot! I’m going to be a bit busy over the next few days but I’ll definitely try to post the next part ASAP (as soon as I’ve written it ;-;) Again I’d just like to say thank you so much for all the love on this series! This is my first real writing project in a while so it’s been a blessing to have so much support so early on in my blog’s lifetime <3 Be sure to comment to be added to the tag list and like/reblog if you enjoyed!!

——————— ⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪ ———————

Tag List:

@1-queenofpotatoes-1

@caspiankingofnarnia

@thesuitelifeofafangirl

@moonydoodlez

@fionnalopez

@kawaiiarbitervoid

@kc2sstuff

@rafeyswrd

@mads12043

@spicybearnaise

@ch3rry-vine

@probabydeadbynow

@ilovejamespottersomuch

@mqg125

@sofiacblair

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nikkeora · 1 year ago

Text

High Enough (Without the Mary Jane)

summary; 'in every other universe, gwen stacy falls for spider-man. and in every other universe, it doesn’t end well'. you don't want to be a mary jane anymore.

or, in which you were the mindy s. mcpherson to miles's prowler

pairing(s); e-1610! Miles Morales x fem!reader, e-42! Miles Morales x fem!reader (r is referred to with she/her pronouns, no physical description.)

warning(s); fem spanish terms are used ('hermosa' etc.), reader’s hand is smaller than Miles’. author can’t write action sequences for shit.

may be ooc but we haven't seen a whole lot of p!miles yet so there isn’t really much to go off of

implied/mentioned parental issues with reader, not proofread, written (mostly) at ao3 hours

a/n; according to google the sinister 6 of e42 are doc oc, vulture, electro, rhino, sandman and scorpion, although i've seen some other ppl say that the eastereggs are vulture, rhino, scorpion, sandman, shocker, kraven and electro. i'm going w the google one, maybe kraven and shocker are their own thing. also they're prolly rich aholes since their signs are on buildings n stuff, so that's what i went with.

also reader was sent to earth 42, but like, a few days before 1610 miles arrives, kind of like how gwen was sent to 1610 a week before she found miles

Miles — or, who you assumed was Miles, anyway — took you back to his place, going out of his way to avoid alleys where there weren't many people around and sticking to the bigger streets. You found it kind of weird. Back home, you and Miles used to cut through backstreets and even some sketchy buildings all the time to make it home before curfew.

You felt him steal glances at you the whole walk, and you’d be lying if you didn’t do the same.

This version of him just felt so.. different.

Once the two of you reached your destination, he let you up the stairs first before quietly calling for you to stop once you reached his floor. You hesitated for a moment on the steps. It was a higher level than Miles’s flat back home, and the building had looked a lot different from what you’d seen just half an hour ago, even if it still felt familiar. You’d chalked it up to the multiverse doing multiverse things at first, but he was starting to act a little off.

Having been around your Miles for years, you knew all his tells. You could see how his weight shifted on his feet as he unlocked the door. You could see he was overall standing straighter and more tense. You could see the hesitation before he turned the key.

Miles was lying to you. And he felt guilty.

But what were you going to do?

This universe was new to you. Sure, everything seemed just about the same, but it was all so foreign at the same time. There where skyscrapers you’d never seen before, new graffiti on the streets of the same couple people over and over again - all of whom you were sure you’d seen somewhere before but couldn’t quite grasp where. The sight of buildings blocked by yellow tape and more in the process of repair after seemingly being burned down or blown up were common in this world, like it was an active war zone or something.

You really didn’t have a choice but to follow along.

He opened the door and waved you in, closing the door rather hastily after the both of you.

You took a glance around the room. There were metal bars on the windows, to keep people out or trap them in you couldn't quite figure. There was a DJ setup near them that looked awfully familiar. Hooks hung down from the unfinished ceiling, some holding chains and others oddly shaped items haphazardly wrapped with what looked like brown lunchbag paper. Wires and ventilation just about everywhere, most of the wires leading to either monitors or gadgets you assumed were in the progress of being built. An old, beat up couch and some gym gear by the wall, an open kitchen-slash-workshop area straight ahead.

The only source of light was the neon red from the signs outside the window, and even then the farther bits of the apartment remained a dark purple hue.

Then someone came out of the other room.

“What's this?”

The hell—?

From the shadows, Aaron Davis emerged.

His beard was more grown out then you'd ever seen, and his features looked sharper, almost rougher. His shoulders seemed more broad, though maybe that was the heavy jacket he wore making him look bigger than he actually was.

“¿Tío?”

Miles had taken you around to his uncle's a couple of times, which you now realized was why you recognized this place. Aaron raised an eyebrow at you, surprise flashing across his face before it was quickly wiped out. He looked over you, taling in your appearance.

“Miles.” He asked again.

“I dunno,” the boy replied, stuffing his hands deeper into his pockets and avoiding his uncle's gaze. “Just found her on the way home.”

“Found her?”

Aaron glanced at you, then back to Miles, then back to you, his eyebrows furrowed in either confusion or frustration. He finally looked back at his nephew, the two of them having a silent conversation you couldn’t read.

“…Fine.” Aaron sighed, turning around—

You felt like you were dying, or being born, or possibly both at the same time. For a split second, you were nothing but particles, your skin and bones and just about everything being ripped apart then sewn back together. Your vision was a mix between TV static and rapid fire neon colors, and it was about the same deal with your hearing (which was concerning, since you couldn't usually hear colors).

Miles had taken a step forward, letting you grab his arms to keep you from falling over as he said something you couldn’t quite hear. Aaron had whipped around so fast you wondered how it didn’t give him whiplash, fists at the ready in case he needed them.

“What was that?” Miles’s voice finally got through to you, the high-pitched screaming in your ears dying down. You blinked at him as your mind went blank.

“I don’t—” You cut yourself off. Wait, was it..? Had you just..?

“Complete cellular decay.” You recalled Miles’s countless retellings of the multiversal mess that had happened just about two years ago. “I’m glitching, aren’t I?”

“Right, and you know this because..?” Aaron asked, his hands now at his sides but not eased yet. He eyed your face as if he was expecting you to grow a third eye or something. Honestly, you couldn’t blame him.

“Okay, so, this might sound crazy,” You started, “but I’m from another dimension.

“We had something like this happen back home a while back — except, y’know, people came into our dimension rather than people from ours going somewhere else.

“The people that came, they were glitching, too. Their atoms were displaced and decaying.”

“So you’re saying,” Miles spoke up, his grip tightening around your forearms just slightly. “If you stay here too long—”

“I’ll die, yeah.” You said, the reality of the situation hitting you like a KTX. “Disintegrate, to be more accurate.”

Silence filled the flat as all three of you processed the information. Miles was frozen, his gaze fixated on the spot where your hands grabbed onto him as if he was scared you’d disappear if he looked away. Aaron crossed his arms, his eyes darting from left to right like he was reading some invisible text.

As for you, you felt unreal. Your body didn’t feel like your own anymore, your vision more like looking at the screen of a first-person shooter. Were you going to die here? You didn’t want to die yet. What would your dad think? Would he file a police report? Would Miles’s dad send out a search party to look for you? And Miles—

You hadn’t even said goodbye to him at the party.

You hadn’t said goodbye to anyone.

I don’t wanna die I don’t wanna die I don’t wanna die I don’t—

“Hey,” Miles says, his voice softer than earlier, snapping you out of your spiral. His hands slide down your forearms and slip into your own, giving them a firm squeeze. “No vas a morir.”

You’re not gonna die.

“Te llevaré a casa.” The boy said, his deep brown eyes bore into yours, slowly bringing you back from feeling like you’re looking at a video game to feeling more like you’re lucid dreaming. It wasn’t a total fix, but it’s a start. “I’ll get you home, I promise.”

You took a deep breath, trying and failing to ground yourself more.

“What’s five things you hear?” Miles asked gently, tilting his head and leaning ever so slightly closer to you. You just blinked, overwhelmed with everything.

“Mi vida,” he said again. “Five things.”

You paused for a moment.

Sirens outside.

Yelling from the streets.

Chains clinking in the breeze from the open window.

Aaron shuffling around in the other room. When had he left?

The buzzing of the lights overhead.

“Good.” Miles said encouragingly. “Now, four things you see.”

Miles.

A pan on the kitchen stove.

The DJ table by the windows.

Tio Aaron pulling out the couch to make a sofa bed.

“Three things you can touch here.”

Miles.

The ground if you bent down, you guessed.

Some trinkets on the table just over there, but you’re not gonna touch that.

“Two you can smell?”

Rusted metal. There’s tons of it around; on the walls, the ceiling, tables, even on the shelves. What was that chest plate doing back there, anyway?

That pool smell, which is kinda gross since it came from the chlorine in pool water mixed with all the gross stuff that came from human bodies.

Miles smiled as you said that. “Vuelves a mí, mi sol.” He squeezed your hands again. “One thing you can taste.”

“I dunno, soda? We had a ton of it at the party.” You wiggled your fingers. It was like you were stepping into your body for the first time — nothing was a perfect fit just yet, like a pair of knitted gloves with too much room at the ends of the fingers. You’d have to get used to it again.

It’s then that Aaron called Miles over, the boy reluctantly leaving your side and following his uncle to the other room. He told you to make yourself comfortable on the couch before he went, though, so that’s exactly what you did. The spring cushions feel oddly comforting under you, the familiarity of home twisted just slightly out of proportion.

There’s really nothing to do alone here. You tapped your fingers on your leg. Thankfully, Miles and Aaron came back after just a few minutes.

The first thing the boy said to you, “I’m gonna get you home.” A firmer, more certain repetition of his promise from a minute ago, albeit there’s a bit of a strain in his voice as if it physically hurt him to say it. In a clumsy yet swift motion, he quickly leaned down and kissed your cheek before making his exit rather hurriedly.

You felt the heat rush to your face, your hand coming up almost immediately to touch the spot.

Aaron chuckled and shook his head.

“So,” he said. “You as smart as she was, too?”

You tinkered with the gauntlet of a prototype suit that Aaron had dug out of storage somewhere, the man himself working on the main body. The helmet — or was it more of a mask? It was a bit bulkier than Miles's Spider-Man mask, a bit more tech-y. Probably more similar to an Iron Man helmet, now that you think about it, albeit lower in its level of advancement — was plugged into one of the many monitors strewn about the flat.

You'd managed to pry a couple bits of information out of him for the past few hours (during which you hadn't glitched again, thankfully) in exchange for some of your own. So far you knew that this universe’s Jefferson Morales had passed away a few years ago, prompting Miles to take on the mantle of the Prowler to avenge his father’s death — the details of which he stayed frustratingly vague on — and, later on, to keep the city as safe as he could.

“Wait, wait, who’s your Spider-Man, then?”

“Who’s Spider-Man?”

You blinked in confusion. “What? You don’t have a Spider-Person?”

“What, like, a part-spider guy? Nah. Scorpion’s mostly bug though, that count?”

This dimension didn’t have a Spider-Man. That was why the city was so overrun with bad guys.

You gave him a general rundown of the whole ‘radioactive spider’ thing and moved on.

Your own variant, who was Miles’s best friend and had helped make a lot of his gear, had disappeared a while after the Prowler started taking out some bad guys that were a step above villain-of-the-week, the ones who had all sorts of shady connections. Hearing about your presumed death was a strange experience.

“We know they took her,” The older man had said, jamming his screwdriver into a faulty part of the suit. “But the cops are all in on it ever since the Cartel bought ‘em out. Declared her dead after less than 24 hours.”

Oh, speaking of, apparently there was a team of villains bringing Gotham to life in New York, Brooklyn being the heart of it all. How fun.

The Sinister Six Cartel, as the Bugel had dubbed them, was the one Aaron and Miles believed to be behind your variant’s disappearance. The two were certain that the Cartel had worked out a connection between you and the Prowler. The nail on the coffin was when they sent a body double of you in the Prowler’s direction to mess with his head just a couple months ago, complete with some sort of Face Off style mask that made it possible for the fake to look exactly like you. It was only a day or two before Miles figured out it was a setup, but it had shaken him up pretty bad.

“I thought you were another one.” He’d admitted. “But then you did the whole glitchy thing. Looked horrible, by the way, real nasty. It hurt much?”

“You have no idea.”

In return, you told him about home. You told him how Miles’s dad was up for a promotion, practically Captain already. You told him about your Miles’s art and how he made a mural of him after his death. You didn’t go into too much detail about the ‘death’ part, focusing more on the peaceful aspects since it was so clearly missing from his every day life. You couldn’t really read this Aaron Davis that well since he was more guarded than he had been back home, but you could tell he appreciated it; especially the parts about his brother.

You also told him how Miles and the other Spider-People who were sent to your dimension had worked out a solution to fix their situation, and gave him a brief summary of the whole ordeal, the details of which he texted Miles since he hadn’t given you a chance to tell him about it when he left so hastily. He said something you couldn’t quite make out as he did — you caught the words ‘lab’ and ‘property’, but that was pretty much it. He only waved it off as nothing when you asked him about it.

“How’s my dad?” You asked, pushing your hand into the gauntlet to test if it worked right. It was a near perfect fit, which made you wonder who exactly it was for, since Miles’s hand was bigger than yours. “Is he doing okay? After the whole ‘declared dead’ thing?”

“He’s holding up, just like the rest of us,” Aaron replied, checking on the monitor. “Your mom — her mom’s been sticking around. Grief brings people together and all that. They’re trying therapy.”

A weird feeling bubbled up inside. While it was good to know at least one version of your parents were trying to reconcile, it bothered you that your absence had prompted it. Was that what was happening right now back home? Had your disappearance magically brought your parents back together? Had it even been long enough for that to happen, or did time flow equally throughout the multiverse?

…

Would it be better for them if you just didn’t go back at all?

“Oh.” You said, nodding slightly as you flexed and wiggled your fingers in the gauntlet, watching the way it moved. It was a lot thinner than the claws that adorned the Prowler’s hands from what you’d spotted here and there in the flat, built to be stealthier in the way it functioned. There were no clunks or clinks, just soft whirring noises that sounded almost like a cat’s purr. “That’s good, I guess.”

It was worse this time around, which you didn’t even know was possible. You felt yourself being split in a billion different directions, parts of you re-atomizing not quite in the right places. You’d never known the feeling of having space between where all your joints were supposed to connect, but now you did, and it honestly made you want to die. Not really. Well…

Miles came back sometime before dawn. You heard the door opening slowly, almost like he was trying not to wake his parents up as he was sneaking in past curfew. Not that he used the door ever since he could climb walls, but still.

He crept into his uncle’s flat, even leaving his shoes at the door so he wouldn’t make too much noise. He was making his way to the other room when he looked at you on the couch, only to flinch in surprise when he saw your eyes were open.

“¿Qué haces despierto?” He whispered, his shoulders tenser than earlier from the split second of adrenaline. “It’s late.”

“What are you doing that you have to sneak in?” You whispered back. The boy just shrugged.

“Oh, you know…” He trailed off, looking around to avoid your questioning gaze. “…Stuff.”

You rolled your eyes. “That has gotta be the lamest excuse I’ve ever heard.”

Miles huffed, shuffling over to you and sitting down on the floor in front of the couch, facing you. “Yeah, well, I asked you first. Why’re you up, hermosa?”

You sighed. “Can’t sleep.”

“Why not?”

“Oh, I don’t know, the thought of my impending doom, maybe.”

A couple beats passed by without a word from either of you, a bit of awkwardness hanging in the air, though it was accompanied by a familiar sense of comfort.

“Do you trust me?” Miles asked, his hand reaching out to gently grab a corner of the blanket draped over you.

“Probably.” You replied. You hadn’t known him long enough to trust him just yet, as much as you wanted to. The corners of his lips tilted up just a bit in an almost smile.

“Then trust that I’ll do whatever it takes to get you home.” He said. “I already lost you once, I’m not letting that happen again.”

The next day was pretty uneventful. For the most part, anyway, if you don’t count the random glitching throughout. You were advised heavily against going outside since the Cartel had eyes everywhere, so your area of activity was limited to the flat. Miles had evidently snuck back out after your little talk the night before, which made you feel a tinge disappointed since you wanted to get to know him better. Fortunately, Aaron said you could help with the suit again.

The TV played in the background as you tapped on the keyboard, giving the helmet a few final touch-ups as the sun set outside the window. J. Jonah Jameson jabbered on about this week’s biggest disasters and lamented about how ‘if only there was a hero to save this city’, which made you snort.

“He’s gonna switch up real quick if a hero does show up,” You remarked to Aaron, who looked at you questioningly. “The guy hates Spider-Man back home.”

“What, Jameson?” He said, raising an eyebrow. “Nah, he’s the biggest Captain America fanboy out there. Loves heroes an’ all that.”

He thought for a moment. “Pretty sure Miles saw him at Comicon that one time too.”

“What’s a Comicon?”

Unfortunately, you never got the answer as you heard the lock on the door slide open. You spun around in your chair to greet Miles as you knew he was supposed to be coming by sometime in the evening, but your friendly smile quickly faded as his expression turned to one of shock, catching a glimpse of what the two of you were working on.

The boy froze as he stared, wide-eyed, at the suit. “Tio,” He said, looking at Aaron as he clenched his jaw. “What’s that doing out?”

“She needs a suit.” The older man answered simply.

“What?” Both you and Miles asked, though you could tell it was for vastly different reasons.

“We need to get into Alchemax to get her home, and we can’t do that unless she has protection.”

“Which is why I came here to make a plan!” Miles shouted, his hands moving animatedly, the way your Miles's always did when he got upset. “Eso, eso no le pertenece. ¡No es para ella!”

They had a back and forth as the pieces came together as to why Miles was so upset.

The suit was supposed to be for you.

His you.

You were, essentially, fixing up a dead girl's clothes to wear.

“The Cartel isn't stupid, Miles,” Aaron tried to make the boy see his point. “Even if we somehow made a distraction big enough for the big ones to leave base, there's still gonna be someone left to guard it. Would you be able to live with yourself if she got hurt? Or worse—”

“Don't.” Miles's nails dug into his palms, leaving dark cresent moons in their wake. Aaron sighed.

“If she got hurt, you'd feel like that's on you. If you got hurt protecting her 'cause she doesn't have anything to protect herelf with, then I'd feel like that's on me.” He said, his features softening as he reasoned with his nephew. “This is the best bet.”

“We could build her a new suit—”

“And take what? Couple days? A week? Two weeks?”

He glanced at you, Miles following his gaze towards you as well. You knew what was implied. The only people you knew this happened to had gone maybe over a week before the glitching became a real problem, and they were superhuman. Who knew how long you had?

“She can wear mine. We have a ton of old ones, I'll just take one of those—”

“I'm not gonna let you get hurt for her, kid.”

“Don't call me that.”

They went back and forth for a while, and eventually Miles went to the other room to cool off and think things through. Aaron sighed, wiping a hand across his face.

“No offense.” He said to you.

“None taken.” You replied, not really knowing what to do. It felt wrong for you to be tinkering with something that was so clearly not meant for you, even if it was for a variant of yourself.

You could hear Miles pacing the other room, muttering to himself.

“Maybe I could...” You trailed off.

“You could try talking him into it,” He suggested. “He'll listen to you more than me right now.”

“...Should I, though?” You couldn't even begin to imagine what Miles was feeling. All this multiverse shit was too damn complicated.

“Look, kid, I know it's weird.” Aaron said, shoulders sagging just a bit. “But this—” he pointed to the suit— “is the best way to make sure no one gets hurt. Trust me.”

There was something he wasn't telling you, but he didn't have to for you to know what it was. Miles thought you were alive, somewhere out there. You knew it was entirely possible that he blamed himself for your disappearance, as it was your own version of him's go-to for anything and everything that went wrong. The shadows under his eyes, that look whenever he saw you... you wondered how many nights he'd spent outside, looking for some trace of you, a new lead to follow. Especially since your arrival.

Aaron thought this was the best chance Miles would ever get to let go of you. To get some sort of closure by sending you home.

“…I'll try.” You finally agreed, getting up from your seat and shuffling to the other room. You hesitated before going in, but the lack of a door made it awkward to linger, so you just bit the bullet and walked inside.

The room in question was more of a faux-veranda (which explained the no-door thing); a long, narrow space separated from the main living area by a sheet of drywall, with one of the wider walls filled with shelves of CDs and albums and the other decorated sparingly with old band and movie posters along with Miles-brand stickers.

“So...” You said, fiddling with your hands as you took a look around the area. You gestured at one of the stickers on the wall. “Did you make that?”

Slowing to a stop to face you, Miles nodded, his hands stuffed into the pockets of his jacket.

“Cool.”

You both stood there in silence for a moment, you working out what to say and Miles trying to come up with some other solution to the problem. The boy had an unhealthy obsession, that much he knew, but he just couldn't bring himself to let go of it. Not when you could be out there, just waiting for him to find you.

“I don't want to push you,” You started hesitantly. “But.. I think your tìo may be right.”

“I know that.” He looked at his feet as if the dirt on his shoes was suddenly the most interesting thing in the world, the sight of him reminisent of a little kid getting scolded by his mother. “I know that.”

“I can't say I understand.. whatever's going through your head right now,” You said, taking a step towards him. “But he just wants what's best for you.”

“What's best for me is finding—” He cut himself off when his eyes met yours, frustration and confusion and stubbornness and sadness and who knows what else all mixing into a big mish-mash of conflicting thoughts inside of him. He clenched his fists, tilting his head up as he tried to think clearly. To his dismay, his throat closed up, the familiar sting of tears pricking at his eyes.

“I need to find her.” He muttered, putting a hand over his eyes in an attempt to stop his tears from falling. It didn't work. “I need to find you.”

“And you will.” You were sure of it. Aaron and Miles were both so sure that their you was alive... she had to be. “But right now? Right now, I need you to help me out.”

He looked at you, his gaze almost spaced out for a moment. You wondered if he saw her in you — if she had the same haircut, the same eyes, the same accent...

You could tell he was frustrated by the way that the scrunch above his nose wouldn’t go away. Hesitantly, you reached out, wiping away the tracks stray tears had left on his cheeks. He stiffened for a moment.

“...Fine.” He finally muttered, a hand coming up to grab your arm, though he seemed unsure if he wanted to push it away or pull it closer. So he just held it in place, his thumb brushing over the inside of your wrist, the edge of your palm. His posture relaxed, just a bit. “Okay.”

Two days later, it wasn't too dark when the plan set into action.

Security at Alchemax — once belonging to Kingpin, now in posession of the Sinister Six Cartel — was thinnest sometime around six to seven pm, when dinner breaks, shift changes and the checkout of regular scientists were prominent.

Miles and Aaron had each set up time bombs at multiple smaller warehouses the Cartel used for storage, each coordinated to go off within minutes of each other. With little to no heroes or police in the way, the Cartel had no reason to keep their lesser important stocks well-guarded, which made it easy to sneak explosives into some of the shipments, support beams and pipes.

Once the explosions were set off, Aaron would use some rip-off Mysterio tech to make projections of some new vigilante gang, with each fake member leading the forces of the Cartel away from Alchemax. During this went on, Miles would sneak you in and to the Super Collider (which, surprisingly, had not been scrapped since its change of ownership) through the vents—

“Wait, wait, isn’t there like, a tunnel that can get us directly to the Collider?” You’d asked, remembering what Miles had told you when he first told you how he became Spider-Man.

“It got sealed off.” Aaron had said. “Some sort of supercharged electromagnetic thing. They did that with all the major underground entry points. Can’t shut it off without blacking out half of Brooklyn.”

“Or getting fried.” Miles had said. “The generators powering each point are all hooked up together a single system, como una mente colmena. You attack one of ‘em directly, all the others shoot a billion bolts of energy into you. And we don’t have time to hack into and get past the firewall to shut the thing down.”

—which you would navigate by memorizing a blueprint of Alchemax that had been conveniently leaked in a mass Cartel server leak a couple months ago. Miles would then plug in the goober he, Aaron and you had made using information gathered via Aaron's 'friends', and send you home.

It was a simple mission. Maybe a bit too simple, but you didn't really have much a choice when you were on a time crunch with limited information. Besides, Occam's razor.

“Copy?” Aaron's voice asked from your earpiece.

“Copy.” You answered, followed by Miles from his own communicator.

“A-6 is a go in 3.. 2...”

Boom.

A couple blocks away, a cloud of dust shot into the air. The building you and Miles were on the roof of shivered slightly as storage unit A-6 blew up.

“A-27.”

Boom.

“C-15.”

Boom.

From your vantage point, you had a clear view of what was going on at Alchemax without the risk of anyone down there catching a glimpse of you. You could see the non-combat scientists scrambling to get to their cars and the armed guards being led by weirdly dressed villains in the direction of the explosions. Although you supposed you weren't quite qualified to comment on the 'weirdly dressed' part at the moment, since you and Miles weren't much better in your respective suits.

Speaking of, Miles hadn't talked much ever since he first saw you wearing the suit. His responses were short if he even gave one, although you could feel him sneaking glances at you when he thought you weren't looking.

Miles fixed the gauntlet on his hand one last time before shuffling closer to you. “Ready?”

His voice sounded strange to you, his actual voice coming through your earpiece overlapping with the voice coming through his modulator.

“Mhm.”

“Going in.”

You hooked your arms around his shoulders and his arm wrapped around your waist, holding you tight as a grapple shot out of his gauntlet. He used it almost exactly like how Miles used his webshooters, although his actions were a bit more... forceful? Rougher around the edges, if that made sense.

As your feet left solid concrete, the city sped by underneath the both of you, a pretty blend of neon and gray. Your suit prevented you from actually feeling the air whipping by, but a fraction of the wind managed to seep through the cracks, sending a chill down your spine as your stomach dropped at the sudden decline.

For a moment, gravity seemed to disappear. The laws of physics no longer felt like they effected you in any meaningful way. Anything and everything that had been weighing down on you — this whole situation, Miles, demanding schoolwork at Visions, your parents and their myriad of problems — no longer held you down.

It was exhilarating.

Your 'flight', so to speak, was over almost as soon as it started. You tucked your legs as you reached the roof of the Alchemax building, separating from Miles and rolling to lessen the impact. Surprisingly, the move came quite naturally to you, even without practice. You chalked it off as something you'd learned when you were a toddler, when your mom used to sign you up for all sorts of extracurriculars. You were pretty sure martial arts or something had been one of them; maybe you'd learned it there.

Your heart pounded as the sudden rush of adrenaline faded away, and you found yourself wishing it didn't. The thrill was addicting, as was the freedom that came with it. It was like a rollercoaster, or watching How to Train Your Dragon in 4D for the first time, only a hundred times better.

Miles had never taken you swinging. He'd never exactly told you why, always brushing off your request with something like a 'maybe later' or 'I can't right now', but you knew why.

Swinging together was a him and Gwen thing.

And you were fine with that.

What, like you were gonna be jealous about something as small as that? Pfft. No way. Nope. Nada.

“¿Estás bien?” Miles asked, pulling you out of your thoughts. You nodded in confirmation.

The two of you pried open a vent using the gloves of your suit, which was easier than you’d expected it to be. To your surprise, the claws that extended from them were very useful.

“We’re in.” You muttered as you crawled into the duct, hoping Aaron wasn’t having any trouble on his end. He’d been awful quiet… Then again, no news is good news on a mission, right?

Miles crawled in after you. “You remember the way?”

“Yeah.”

Together you made your way to the underground levels of the building, miraculously avoiding any possible dead ends or mouse traps. That musty smell of mold and concrete reached your senses as you reached the deeper parts.

There weren’t many people at the Super Collider, thanks to the diversion and timing. Miles gestured for you to stay put as he swiftly dropped out of the vents, knocking out the few guards there one by one with relative ease. It was strange seeing him fight; so similar to yet completely different from him. You were doing as told and observing from the vents until you saw one of the last three people — a scientist, by the looks of it — sneaking up on Miles from behind while he was preoccupied with the two other guards.

You quickly dropped down from your spot, landing behind the guard and catching him by surprise as he whirled around with his weird-techy-science gun. Dropping to the ground, you swept your leg under his, toppling him over and knocking the weapon out of his hands. You were about to knock him out when—

“Peter Parker?”

Are you kidding me?

You were certain it was him. This Peter was scrawnier, his hair more sandy blond than Peter Parker’s back home (before he passed, anyway), and he wore thick, black-rimmed glasses that perched awkwardly on his slightly crooked nose. But the ID that read ‘Peter Parker’ in big bold letters around his neck was a pretty solid indicator.

“…Yes?” He almost squeaked out.

Meanwhile, Miles had dealt with the two guards, stepping over them to get to the console. “Sácalo y entra ahí.” He called, fumbling a little as he tried to figure out which buttons to push to fire up the Collider.

“We have a bit of a situation..” You said, pulling Peter up by his arm and dragging him to the console as well.

You gave him a hushed explanation of your unwillingness to hurt the guy, and how you believed he was genuinely a good person. After all, this universe was almost the same as yours, right? Peter Parker couldn’t be that different here…

“And besides, he probably knows how to work this thing. It’d be helpful.”

Miles sighed. “…Fine, I won’t knock him out,” He agreed. Turning to Peter, he asked, “How do you start the Collider?”

Peter gulped, everything in his body language screaming ‘I want to run away’. “You- you need codes,” He stammered out. “Approval codes, from—”

“Don’t care.” Miles cut him off, giving him a brief glance at the goober. “Just start it. ¿Lo pilla?”

Peter nodded hastily and got to work, pressing buttons and switching levers as you made your way down to the Super Collider. There was a catwalk that ran from one side of the machine to the other, connecting the two mechanisms. If you got to the middle of it, you could jump off and into the portal once the Collider was at full output. Sure enough, its huge metal plates clinked and clattered as they slowly sprung to life.

This was it. You were finally going home.

Just then, you heard a thunk along with some choice words in Spanish, and looked over to the source to see Peter out cold on the ground.

“He got to the panic button!” Miles said, scowling to himself as he plugged in the goober, praying that this plan would work out in the next minute or so. Bubble-like particles appeared at the two points of the machine that faced each other, the noise it emitted now making it so that you could only properly make out what Miles was saying through your earpiece.

The Collider whirred and sputtered as the bubbles grew bigger and brighter, eventually bursting into two beams of light that met each other in the middle, creating one big sphere with a bunch of little bubbles going in and out of it and surrounding it. The sphere grew larger and larger until it collapsed in on itself, sprouting thin, curvy lines.

The thing grew bigger and bigger until it was about the size of a person, you could feel it starting to pull you in. You just had to wait for Miles’s go ahead—

Ow.

What the hell?

You were suddenly sprawled on the ground, something having tackled you at what felt like a hundred miles an hour. That something — or rather, someone — skid to a halt just a few feet away from you, dragging a hand across the tiled floor and leaving… scratch marks?

Scrambling to your feet, you crouched in a defensive stance as you looked over the newcomer.

There wasn’t a single inch of skin showing, their suit covering the whole of their person. The suit in question was mostly white, with some gray sprinkled in here and there. It reminded you of Eve from Wall-E or a Stormtrooper, maybe a mix of both. Strangely enough, the mask was just a blank slate; a sleek, white panel with no features or details, kind of like one of those LED face masks.

Overall it was kind of… boring? It didn’t inspire fear nor did it seem very imposing or something of the sort, which you��d think would be a priority for a villain organization. If anything it was bland, the only thing that stood out from the suit being its hands which donned gauntlets that looked similar to yours, but slimmer and more polished, more accurately described as gloves rather than gauntlets. They had claws just like yours, albeit they looked sharper, a bit more gnarled.

“Miles?” You called, your heartbeat quickening. “What’s going on?”

You heard a grunt from his end. You didn’t look to see what was happening, not daring to take your eyes off of your attacker, but you guessed that backup from Peter’s panic signal had arrived.

“What’s going on?” Aaron echoed, his voice slightly fuzzy. Before you could answer, your attacker lunged. You managed to doge a full on body slam, but they grabbed your arm instead, using it to flip you over their body and knocking the wind out of you.

You writhed as you hit the ground, managing to rip your arm out of their grasp and landing a kick on their ankle, causing them to stumble. You took the opportunity to get up and put some distance between the two of you, though you didn’t get far before the lunatic started chasing you. They jumped at you again but you turned around at the last second, and as you were pushed back with their claws digging into your shoulders you kicked both of your legs out into their stomach just as your back hit the ground, sending them straight over your head.

“Tìo, get your nephew, now!” You shouted, rolling away just in time to avoid a punch that landed on the floor where your head had been just a second ago. “It all went to shit, get him out!”

The pull from the Collider was getting stronger, tiny scraps like bolts and papers flying through the air and towards the beam of light. You raced back to the catwalk but were once again stopped by the 29th century Stormtrooper. You yelped as you felt something grab the back of your neck, sharp claws piercing through your suit and digging into your skin as your head was thrown harshly against a metal beam.

And just like that, you were on the ground. Again. What was this, like, the third time? Fourth? Great. Just fantastic.

I’m not even supposed to be here, you thought, grabbing at your opponent’s wrists as their hands wrapped around your neck, slowly choking you. They were stronger than you were, faster, clearly more skilled. What were you thinking? You’re not a fighter — you couldn’t beat them, not like this.

Why was the universe so intent on making you miserable? You were just trying to get home, maybe not die. Not dying would be nice. But no. You couldn’t have nice things, could you? Not your own life, not Miles, your own damn parents were happier in a reality where you weren’t in the picture—

A sudden surge of anger made you lash out. The universe could go fuck itself. You weren’t dying like this. Not when your ticket home was right in front of you.

Your gauntlet caught your attacker’s mask, knocking it off.

You knew that face.

It was the same face that looked back at you every time you looked at a mirror.

Well, not exactly, you supposed. There was a certain roughness in her features, the same as how Miles looked different from Miles. But you’d know those eyes anywhere. But they were… what’s the word, fuzzy? Unfocused? It was like her body was on autopilot while her brain was off in Hawaii or something.

The thing you did next could’ve won you the prize for ‘smartest dumb decision of the year’.

In all your oxygen-deprivated brilliance, you retracted your mask.

It might shake her, was your reasoning. It would confuse anyone to see a doppelgänger in a fight.

Or, you know, it could go totally wrong and she could punch your face in. But you were already getting choked, so, what was there to lose?

And it worked.

Her eyes shifted back into focus as her grip slackened, and you quickly shoved her — or is it you? yourself? — off, gasping for air. You could vaguely make out the outline of a giant scorpion-guy going one-on-one with Miles, who seemed to be holding out pretty well. He was favoring his left hand though, when usually he used his right.

“I— wha—? Where—” You heard from your left. Your alternate universe counterpart looked around the lab, her eyes wide and movements jerky like a wild animal on drugs.

You were about to say something when a loud buzzing came through your comm, which had evidently been damaged in the whole head-beam connection thing. Miles’s voice came through in broken pieces.

“Col— get..t— ov-rload—”

The Collider. The goober could only force an incomplete system to run for so long. Your time was up.

Wonderful.

A flash of blinding light came from the machine as it malfunctioned. The goober could only make an incomplete system work for so long. You were just able to get your helmet back on before everyone in the vicinity was pushed back in an explosion. Was that Aaron—?

After your temporary blindness wore off, you made out the aftermath, a high-pitched ringing in your ear as you dazedly looked around. The glass that separated the control area from the Collider had been shattered, the Scorpion twitching as he tried to get to his feet — did he have feet? Now’s really not the time — There was no sign of Miles or Aaron anywhere, which was either very good or very bad. You decided to believe it was the former for your own sake. A short distance away from you was another you, that one unconscious but still breathing, from the looks of it.

Grabbing your variant, you ripped open a vent on the wall before the Scorpion could take notice of either of you, shoving her in before following suit and placing the vent cover back on. You had to get out of here. Fast.

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creatingblackcharacters · 4 months ago

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A quick search of your blog turned up nothing on the topic yet (though that might not mean much given how infamously bad Tumblr's search function is), but I've found myself in a weird situation: I'm in a furry server where a lot of people have OCs or Fursonas who are raccoons. They're adorable, varied in design and personality, and I love them all, but a lot of folks there have a tendency to refer to them using a... certain shortened version of "raccoon" that is still considered offensive in a lot of places and I myself feel uncomfortable with. That said, the server has lots of international users (including several Black members), and the word has only ever been used as a term of endearment or affection for our furry friends, so I'm genuinely convinced they don't even know that word is considered a slur and really do just think of it as a shortened version of raccoon and nothing more. Furthermore, I'm White myself, so I'm worried that me saying anything by myself will come across as a "White person deciding what Black people are offended by" thing. What would be the best way to try and bring up my concerns with them?

🤣🤣🤣🤣 the irony here is that some people would consider the Black people in your server that very four letter word for allowing it to happen. Because I would DEFINITELY be side eyeing folks if they were Black, specifically African American where the term originated and they should be aware of the history.

I see where you're coming from, as that word is not something that nonblack folk have the right to use, especially in accusation towards Black people. The context of the word makes it ineffective if it doesn't come from another Black person.

Really, all you can do is ask. "Hey, I've learned recently that this word has a heavy negative connotation; are our Black members in the group comfortable with us using it? Is there something we should be aware of to make sure that we're being inclusive and not accidentally using slurs?" That way the floor is open for Black users to say yay or nay. Because you might assume they don't know, but meanwhile they know very well, but want to be included so badly that they don't say anything bc "oh well, they don't mean this in a racist way".

You ALSO have to make sure that if nonblack members of the group act an ass, that you're willing to stand on it. Don't say "hey, we want you to be safe" and then allow people to punish Black users for speaking up! Otherwise you're just saying "we're all equal" and then it's just an unsafe environment where we clearly aren't equal.

#creatingblackcharacters #thatsjusttips

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theresattrpgforthat · 3 months ago

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My roommate made a joke about wanting to play a sonic the hedgehog tabletop game. Is there a ttrpg for that?

THEME: Sonic the Hedgehog.

Your roommate is about to be surprised because there isn't just a single Sonic ttrpg. There's at least seven.

Speeding Bullets!, by Princess Grace.

In SPEEDING BULLETS!, you play as three to five intrepid, plucky anthropomorphic animals on a quest to save the day- or end it. It’s up to you, some six-sided dice, and your beloved SO (Shadow Operator) to determine the fate of the world.

SPEEDING BULLETS! is a single-page Lasers and Feelings hack where your stats are FAST! (hero) and GUN! (antihero). You and your friends will create Sonic OCs, randomly assign them backstories like "Dark Warrior's Advent" or "Purification via Ruination" from a table of 326 genders, and put them up against insurmountable odds, Dr. Robotnik, and their own rivals.

Lasers and Feelings games all have the same basic premise: you have one number that represents your abilities in two different stat, in this case, Fast and Gun. Rolling above the number is good for one stat, while rolling below the number is good for the other. Roll your number exactly? Then something special happens.

What Speeding Bullets takes from Sonic is rivalries, a perpetual quest to defeat Dr. Robotnik, and an alternate suggestion for playing as your character's rivals, taking references from Dark Mirror. The game also comes with a Gender Table, a roll-table that appears to reference every Shadow the Hedgehog ending.

Rainbow Runaways, by UkeleleBard.

You are an animal living in a human’s world. The humans have found you, and the military will pursue you with every weapon, vehicle, and trap they have at their disposal. You’ve only got one option. RUN!

Rainbow Runaways was created for the Caltrop Core game jam, and runs on the Caltrop Core engine by Titanomachy. You can play it Solo, or with a GM, with a deck of cards and a 1-3 d4's per player.

The goal is simple: escape the military by reaching the edge of the city. You track this by using a clock with 12 slices. The deck of cards represents the actions of the military as they pursue you. Your character is composed of three stats and three techniques.

All in all, Rainbow Runaways is succinct and to the point. I think one of the benefits of fan games like this is that much of the lore is already assumed to be known by the players, and as a result reading the game book can be much quicker, since you just need to learn the rules.

Edge Hedge Arena (Beta), by ANIM TTRPGS (@anim-ttrpgs).

Throughout all human history, people have been given names. You thought yours was only mean to be used as an identifier, but you were wrong. Your name was chosen carefully, with the conscious (or subconscious) knowledge that one day it would inextricably link you to a champion of immense power who is also a hedgehog. This “game” serves as a set of instructions for revealing this mighty guardian, so they can defend your honor and name in a battle to the freaking death!

Still in the early stages, Edge Hedge Arena is partially a battle game. This is firmly a pvp game, using your weapons, powers and style to give you an advantage in the arena. However, first and foremost, Edge Hedge Arena feels like a bit of a love letter to the Sonic Fandom, more than Sonic itself. When you make a character, you actually have to search for art of a hedgehog OC online!

Chaos & Control, by farmergadda (@farmergadda).

Chaos & Control is a hack of Lasers & Feelings by John Harper, inspired by a similar hack, Steel & Spirit by Occupied Hex. In this game, Players will take on the roles of colorful, cartoony animal people and go on adventures through fantastic locations, facing off against maniacal foes, and looking really cool while doing so.

Another Lasers & Feelings hack, Chaos & Control adds the use of character types to further differentiate your characters, as well as tokens that can be used to trigger powerful moves unique to your character. For the GM, there's a number of roll-tables to help generate locations, problems, badniks, and so much more.

Rings and Running Shoes, by RingsandRunningShoes.

Welcome to Sonic's World - A universe unique and beyond what you know from the SEGA games! Where, inspired by Sonic and other heroes of the franchise, you and your friends will create a team of heroes that will save the world from the forces of evil!

The system is based on PbtA with heavy modification to fit the care-free power fantasy of Sonic's Adventures, but anyone familiar with the core game, should know the basics. On a very surface level the gameplay loop consists of alternating between "Peace and Quiet" and "Stages" sections. During P&Q your group will rest, prepare for the Stage, roleplay and develop your characters.

One of the benefits for PbtA games is playbooks. Playbooks keep most of the information that a player will need to know in one place, allowing you to choose a character type based on vibes, and then make selections within just the options provided to you. It's excellent for minimizing choice paralysis, and it can make teaching the game simpler, as each player has a number of references to the rules that are specific to their character in front of them at all times.

Mobius, by Ioan Davies-John.

Mobius is a fan-made tabletop wargame based on Archie Comics’ 24-year run of Sonic the Hedgehog, allowing you to fight Large Skirmishes in the gone-but-not-forgotten take on Sonic's World!

It features stats for all your favorite heroes and villains, and rules to suit every play-style from hordes of Eggman Robots to squads of elite Freedom Fighters. There’s an ever-evolving plethora of army books and supplements to represent the many factions within the pages of the world’s most way past cool comic!

Mobius is a tactical wargame, focused on moving little guys around on a map and taking down your opponents. There's plenty of minutiae here for folks who love figuring out what strategies work for them, including various extra rules, as well as 14 different factions to choose from. If you're not sure who you can play this with, the designer has a link to their community discord on their Itch page!

If you want something a little different in theme but similar in spirit, you might interested in Davies-John's other sonic game, a naval wargame set in the same universe: Egg Fleet!

Radical Spin, by Will Uhl (@raffitheowl)

Will you beat your evil twins, stop the robot army, and survive the perils of high school?

Radical Spin is a micro-RPG about melodramatic action animals. Hedgehog heroes, will you beat your evil twins, stop the robot army, and survive the perils of high school? Live out your bad fanfic fantasies today!

I don't know much about this game, but based on what I can find out about it, it seems to be designed to shine when you're exploring Sunday Morning Cartoon-style plots. I'm expecting characters with abilities that are larger than life, as well as a fairly simple rule set that's easy to pick up and learn without much trouble.

You might also be interested in...

My Silly Games recommendation post, which has a link to a Sonic game called Spindash!

I've also got a Ko-Fi account where you can leave me a tip if you like what I do!

#sonic the hedgehog #tabletop games #game recommendations #indie ttrpgs #dnd #asks #indie ttrpg

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mymindisneverhere · 6 months ago

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FAVORS (3)

Part Three

warnings: 18+, MDNI!, no smut, sub!Terry, soft dom!black fem OC, explicit language, lots of dialogue, slow burn (forgive me if I missed any)

Masterlist

Terry stood in the large living room, looking at himself in the full body mirror as he tightened his tie. He stared at this version of himself for a long minute. He wasn’t the tuxedo wearing type but he had to admit it didn’t look bad on him.

Khloé had managed to hire the perfect tailor to be sure the tux would fit just right. Terry spent hours being measured, trying on different jackets and pants, and walking back and forth to ensure comfort while wearing the tux.

She was there for every moment of it, taking him in each time he removed a shirt and replaced it with a different one. She noticed the scar on his back near his right shoulder. She wanted so badly to ask him about being shot but she decided not to. She assumed that would be too much of a sensitive subject and she didn’t want to go that route.

Terry looked down at his watch, a simple black watch that had to be approved by Khloé of course. He was big on being punctual as well, so he made sure to keep up with time even when Khloé wasn’t.

“Your car is down stairs, everything is set and ready to go.” Olivia said, walking into the living room.

Terry turned to face her unsure of who she was talking to.

“I’m driving?”

“Yes sir, a luxury sedan has been rented for the evening. Ms. MacArthur prefers not to have drivers, she’s very strict on privacy.” Olivia spoke quickly. “The destination is already in the GPS for you. The directions will begin as soon as you pull off.”

“Thank you.” Terry nodded and proceeded to take a seat on the large sectional sofa. He looked down at his phone, reading the messages that were pouring in from Summer.

‘A $16,000 check just came in the mail, I know you had something to do with it!!’

‘I can’t accept this, how am I going to pay it back?’

‘This is too good to be true, call me as soon as you can!’

He was so focused on the text messages, he didn’t notice Khloé enter the room until the scent of soft florals hit his nostrils.

“How do I look?” She asked, staring at him, a bit of innocence in her voice.

He eyed her, starting from her feet and making his way up to the crown of her head. The long red dress she wore accentuated her hips and brought in her waist. The details were subtle but didn’t go unnoticed by Terry. The strapless dress lifted her breasts, bringing out the natural shape of them. Her hair was pinned in a beautiful updo with a few pieces framing her face, a soft curl in each. And to top it all off her signature red lip, which was clearly her favorite… and his.

The longer he stared, the more she felt herself wanting to shrink a bit but she did her best to remain unmoved. He hardly ever wore his emotions on his sleeve so reading him was becoming a bit of a challenge for her. The nervous feeling quickly began to fade as she saw his expression soften.

“You look beautiful.” He stood. “Red fits you perfectly.”

She smiled at him.

“Well let’s go, I really don’t wanna be late.” She said, grabbing her small clutch purse. “My mother won’t let me hear the last of it.”

They headed to the lobby of the condominium. As they passed through, they earned a few stares. People couldn’t help but to turn their attention to the two of them. Khloé strutting across the floor, Terry not too far behind her. They both had very demanding auras and together their energies swarmed the room without warning.

“I have a question.” Terry said.

“Ask.”

“Is this something I need to get used to?” Terry questioned, referring to the looks they received a while ago.

“Absolutely.” She smiled up at him.

Their car was parked in front, a young man wearing a valet jacket stood by to be sure the car went untouched. The glossy black sedan sat already running, headlights shining bright.

Without her needing to say anything, Terry walked ahead of her and opened the passenger door, waiting for her to climb in.

“Ooh,” She started. “Keep it up and you might earn yourself a treat.”

Terry smirked, trying his hardest to hide his amusement. He got into the driver's seat and adjusted the seat to his liking, scooting it back until he had the proper leg room.

“A few things I need to go over before we get there.” She began. “If anyone asks where we met, we met on vacation.”

“How long have we been together?” He asked, putting the gear in drive and pulling off.

“6 months. Tell them you’re in real estate. They’re gonna wanna know if you make enough money to be with me.”

He looked over at her as they approached a red light.

“My family only sees money, they believe that’s the only thing that’ll keep me happy. They don’t care about love or any emotions for that matter. As long as the money flows, they will mind their damn business.” She said looking over at him.

They stared at each other for a few seconds until the bright traffic light went green. Khloé went on to tell him how he should go about speaking to her parents, what to say and what to do. She filled him in on the latest drama with her siblings and her cousins and made sure to tell him who to look out for and who to avoid at all costs.

“Anything else I should know?”

“Lastly, my cousin Nia. She’s a bitch. I hate her, she hates me. She’s been in competition with me since we were teenagers. I get a car, she gets a car, I get a diamond bracelet, she gets a diamond bracelet, I go to Harvard, bitch breaks her neck to go to Yale.” She pointed a stern finger to him. “You can mingle with anyone at the banquet but stay away from that sneaky bitch.”

“Yes ma’am.”

The car ride the rest of the way was silent but the tension was impossible to ignore. Every now and then Khloé would sneak glances over at Terry while he drove, one hand on the wheel the other on his lap. She stared at his hands imagining what they’d feel like inside of her. Images of him playing in her pussy while he drove began flashing in her mind and she quickly tore her gaze from him.

He could feel her eyes on him but his expression never changed. If there was one thing he’d taken away from being a marine, it was keeping his poker face intact. There was no way she’d know what he was really thinking unless he decided to let it be known.

“You have reached your destination.”

They pulled up in front of the large banquet hall surrounded by guests and valet. Finally coming back into reality Khloé took a deep breath before exiting the car.

“I got it.” Terry said, before she could grab the door handle.

Khloé smiled to herself. ‘This one comes trained.’

He rounded the car and opened her door, placing his hand out for her to grab. She stepped out of the car and smiled at some of the guests who were entering the banquet the same time as her.

“Ready?” She asked.

“Ready.”

They reached for each other's hands simultaneously, intertwining their fingers as they made their way into the building. The sound of soft music playing in the background filled their ears, along with light chatter from guests.

They stopped at the double doors that were propped open, leading into the ballroom. Turning to him, she began fixing his tie, not that it needed fixing but to simply try and cover her nervousness. She tightened his tie, dusted his shoulders and tugged lightly on his collar.

“I make you that nervous?” Terry smirked, staring down at her.

“As pretty as your lips are, they're gonna keep you in trouble.” She smirked back. “Let’s enjoy the banquet.”

Khloe held onto his arm as they entered the large ballroom. Each table was draped in white cloth, expensive tableware and champagne flutes. A large banner with the words “MacArthur Banquet” hung from the ceiling just above the small stage in the room. Khloé looked around the room taking in her surroundings. Unlike Terry, Khloé didn’t do that good of a job at hiding her emotions.

She worried about what her parents' would think of her date. She’d hoped and prayed they wouldn’t go digging into his background to find out that not only is he a warehouse worker but that he’s also a bit of a rebel.

“Princess!” Mr. MacArthur announced, snapping her of her thoughts.

“Hi Daddy!” She ran to him, giving him a hug as he placed a soft kiss on her cheek.

She greeted the woman standing next to him, placing a kiss on her cheek as well. Terry stood, admiring how they embraced each other. It was clear to him that this was her mother, the woman was a spitting image of Khloé just a bit older.

“It’s so good to see you, you look so beautiful.” Mrs. MacArthur smiled, holding onto her daughter's hand.

Her father tore his eyes from her and they landed on Terry. “Who is this?”

“Mom, Dad, this is Terrance.” Khloé stepped back to stand next to Terry, placing a hand on his arm.

“Terrance this is my dad, John MacArthur and my mom Angela MacArthur.”

“You got a last name Terrance?” Mr. MacArthur asked, placing his hand out for Terry to shake.

“Terrance Richmond sir, it’s a pleasure to meet you both.” Terry responded, firmly shaking the man’s hand and then her mothers.

“The pleasure is ours. It’s good to see she has someone keeping her company. I just hope you’re a strong and patient man, my Khloé can be a handful at times.” Mrs. MacArthur smiled up at him. She turned her gaze to her daughter, bringing her into another embrace. “Don’t screw this one over, okay? You don’t want to be old and alone.”

Khloé clenched her jaw before replacing the menacing look with a fake grin. Mr. MacArthur and Mrs. MacArthur excused themselves from the two as they made their way around the room, greeting guests as they entered.

Terry noticed the sudden change in Khloés expression no matter how hard she tried to disguise it.

“You okay?” He asked.

“I’m fine.” She responded, running her hands down the length of her dress. “Let’s have a seat, they’re about to begin.”

The family banquet began with greetings from Mr. and Mrs. MacArthur. The couple stood on stage thanking guests for joining them for another banquet and proceeded with their usual program.

The banquet was yet another success as it had been for the past few years. There were small awards and acknowledgments being made all evening. From praises for large sales, increasing income and openings of new locations for the family business, the banquet had gone exactly as planned.

However Terry couldn’t help but sense Khloés tense energy. It didn’t help that she had become a bit fidgety. Fixing her hair every 10 minutes, wiping invisible lent from his jacket and plastering an artificial smile on her face each time she would interact with the other guests.

It wasn’t necessarily Terry's place to ask her about her relationship with her parents but he was very curious. He tried his hardest to remind himself of why he was even there to begin with.

‘I’m doing her a favor, she’s doing me a favor.’

“I’m gonna go catch up with a few people, you’ll be alright by yourself won’t you?” She asked.

“I’m a big boy, I’ll be fine.” He replied, taking a sip of water.

“Stop testing me Mr. Richmond.” She warned, referring to his smart comment.

He smiled, placing his glass back on the table.

Khloé got up and made her way around the room for a bit, grabbing glasses of champagne as they were being offered to her. She mingled with family and friends, sharing memories of the past and hopes of the future. After a few glasses, she was really feeling the effects of the alcohol. A sudden boost of confidence washed over her, bringing her right back to her normal self.

Remembering she had the finest gentleman in the room as her date, she wanted to make sure she was attending to him. She looked over to their table, hoping his eyes were already on her. Her excitement quickly faded once she noticed who he was talking to.

“Excuse me, I hope I’m not being too forward but you are so handsome.” A woman said, causing Terry to look her way.

She was tall, slim and snatched like a supermodel. She was a pretty woman but her style clashed with her looks. She wore a royal blue dress, bright gold accessories and red lipstick. Almost similar to Khloés but not quite.

“Thank you.” He smiled humbly.

“I’m Imani, I’m Khloés older cousin.” She held out her hand, palm facing down as if she was waiting for him to kiss it.

He stared at it for a few seconds and decided to shake it instead.

“Nice to meet you Imani, I’m Terrance.”

Imani laughed, placing a hand on his shoulder. “Respecting your girlfriend I see, but I understand. I’m sure if she found out I was talking to you she’d lose her shit. She’s been in a silent competition with me since we were kids but she’s my little cousin so I’m flattered.”

Terry nodded, allowing the woman to speak freely simply because he wasn’t interested in speaking to her at all. There was just something about her energy that wasn’t sitting right with him but he didn’t want to be entirely rude to her. After all, he was a guest at her family’s event.

“Oops, I should go, she’s staring. Don’t wanna get you in any trouble. Enjoy the night handsome.” She said flipping her ponytail off of her shoulder and twisting her hips as hard as she could hoping he was watching.

But his eyes met Khloés from across the room. She didn’t necessarily look pissed but she didn’t look too happy either. The look on her face was stern almost as if he had done something he wasn’t supposed to. He quickly recalled the name of the person he was told not to mingle with.

‘Nia.’ He thought to himself, shrugging because he was in the clear.

He relaxed in his chair, sitting back and parting his legs from one another but she still hadn’t broken their gaze. It was as if they were communicating with one another without needing to say anything at all.

After a few moments, she smiled and made her way across the room to him.

“Dance with me Mr. Richmond.” She stated, staring down at him through a tipsy gaze.

Terry stood as she grabbed his hand and led them to the small dance floor. They joined a few other guests on the floor as well. Some were relatives of Khloés, others just friends of the family.

Once they reached a secure spot, they embraced each other. Khloé wrapped her arms around his neck, silently thanking herself for wearing heels given his height. Terry’s hands snaked around her waist and they slowly swayed to the soft music. The longer they danced, the more Terry could feel Khloé slowly relaxing in his embrace.

They rested their heads against the others, her forehead comfortable against this jaw.

“Can I be honest with you?” Khloé asked.

“Of course.”

“I didn’t tell you the full reason as to why I offered you the money to be my boyfriend.” She started.

“Why am I not surprised?”

“I mean yes I need you for events and to keep my family quiet but…” Her voice faded.

“But?”

She took a deep breath and told him all that he needed to know.

“The truth is I want you in the worst way.”

She felt his jaw clench against her temple as she spoke.

“The moment I saw you, the things I began to see in my mind were so… vivid.”

“What did you see?” He questioned, keeping his voice as low as possible.

Khloés breath caught in her throat at his question. She thought her honesty would tear him from her. Her admitting that she was simply lusting after him should’ve bothered him but instead he leaned into it.

“I imagined the view I’d have of you, from down on my knees. I imagined how much fun I would have edging you until you begged me to let you cum. I saw myself tying you to the bed and riding you for as long as I wanted.”

Terry’s jaw clenched once more but he remained silent, still holding onto her waist.

“You’d cum again and again and again.” The longer she spoke, the easier it was becoming to speak freely.

She looked around the room to be sure no one was paying them any attention and she was right. They continued to sway back and forth to the soft music being played by the live band. She could feel his heartbeat increase as she held onto him. His breathing was steady but the rest of him was rising.

“I felt bad at first because you seemed like a sweet and innocent guy. But in all honesty, I enjoy dominating men.” She admitted. “Not just any men but the ones who reek of dominance, men like you. The ones who walk around so unbothered, so unfazed. Always wearing a straight face because nothing can sway you. But I know you want to feel my lips around your dick. That’s why you get so stuck in a daze staring at them while I’m talking to you.” She spoke, her lips gently brushing against his neck.

Terry let out a deep breath but still remained silent. There was no need in denying any of what she was saying because all of it was true.

“You know what I love the most about the male anatomy? It’s that no matter how much you try to hide it, no matter how still your expression is, I’ll always know how bad you want me.” She brought her hand to the back of his head and lowered it so her lips were level with his ear.

“I can feel you through my dress.” She whispered.

Terry tightened the hold he had on her waist, bringing her even closer to him. He was hoping that no one else would notice the “excitement” that she was feeling. Deep down, he wanted so desperately to drag her off the dance floor and find the nearest bathroom or utility closet, but he was at her command. He wouldn’t move until she gave the green light to do so.

“Why are you so quiet Mr. Richmond, cat got your tongue?” She teased.

“No ma’am, I just don’t have a lot to say right now. Only a couple of things I wanna do.”

She giggled at his response. She had him exactly where she wanted him, craving her but unable to do anything about it. They were in the middle of the dance floor surrounded by dozens of people, there was no way he’d do anything to draw attention to the two of them.

“I was looking forward to tasting you tonight but your behavior needs adjusting.”

Terry stood up straight, bringing his eyes to meet hers.

“What’s wrong with my behavior?” He asked, his eyes shifting back and forth between hers.

Before Khloé could respond, her mothers voice erupted through the speakers. Khloé turned to face the stage, pressing her back against his abdomen. She figured since she was the cause for his excitement the least she could do was help him conceal it.

“Thank you all so much for another successful MacArthur banquet! Congratulations to all of the recipients of tonight’s awards.” Mrs. MacArthur spoke into the mic. “We love to see our family and friends grow in business, in love and in prosperity as the years go by.”

Everyone applauded as she made her closing announcements.

“Don’t forget to grab a goodie bag on the way out and please drive home safely. We will see you all next year, goodnight and God bless!”

Khloé turned to grab her things from their table, she said her goodbyes to her family and made her way to the car. Terry was right behind her, replaying the night in his mind. He did just as he was told, interacting with little to no guests and speaking when spoken to. So what was she talking about?

“Do you have the ticket for valet?” Khloé asked him a bit nonchalantly.

Terry dug into his pocket and handed the ticket to the man dressed in a red jacket. Within a few minutes their car was pulled to the front of the hall. Terry opened the door for her and then made his way to the driver's side.

“What was wrong with my behavior tonight?” Terry asked, looking over at her.

“Just drive please.” She spoke softly, not even bothering to look over at him.

Terry took a deep breath before pulling away from the curb. They made their way back into the streets of downtown. The ride was silent once again. Terry was racking his brain trying to figure out what she was talking about but nothing was coming to the surface. Khloé sat quietly, not planning on telling him what he did wrong until they were back at her place.

“You have reached your destination.”

Terry unbuckled his seatbelt and exited the car. A few seconds later, he opened Khloés door and waited for her to step out. He handed the keys to the valet and they made their way into the building. Khloé walked a few feet ahead of him, enjoying the feeling of having this grown man following behind her everywhere she went.

Khloé pressed the button to call the elevator and stepped inside once the doors opened. Terry pressed the button marked ‘30’ and they sat silently for the majority of the ride up to her condo.

“When we get upstairs, take off your jacket and dress shirt and wait for me in the living room.” Khloé instructed, keeping her eyes forward.

“Yes ma’am.”

“30th floor”

The two made their way down the long hall and entered her home. Terry did as he was asked and placed his clothes on the arm of the couch. He took a seat, only dressed in his undershirt and pants. While Khloé was off in her room, he took this time to respond to Summers' messages letting her know that he’d be by to explain everything to her.

Khloé stepped into her bathroom to remove her dress. She wore a black panty and bra set underneath, already prepared for the night. She grabbed her black satin robe and slipped into it, not bothering to remove her heels. Taking one last look in the mirror to be sure she looked good, she made her way into the living room.

“Stand when I enter the room.” She spoke, causing Terry’s head to snap up.

He stood from the couch and eyed her from head to toe. Her body was heavent sent. Decorated in lace fabric, her skin slightly glistened from the mixture of body shimmer and the soft lighting in the room. His dick began growing in his pants again as she stood there staring at him.

“Come.” She said, pointing her finger to a spot directly in front of her.

Terry walked around the small coffee table, slowly approaching her until the top of their shoes were almost touching. She loved that he towered over her even in her heels. As intimidating as he could be at times, she enjoyed the fact that she was the one truly in charge.

“Before I start, you do get a say in this, I’m not a completely inconsiderate bitch.” She started. “If you don’t want to do this just say so and I’ll call it off.”

“Did you hear me say that?” He asked. There was that smart ass mouth again.

Khloé smirked at his question. “I need your consent Mr. Richmond.”

“You have my consent Ms. MacArthur.” He stared down at her with a sly grin on his face.

“You’re familiar with these right?” Khloé held up a pair of handcuffs, loosely dangling off of her fingers.

Terry let out a light chuckle, still keeping his eyes on hers.

“Turn around.” She instructed.

Terry did as he was told.

This was the first time she was seeing him nearly undressed, up close like this. Her eyes roamed from his freshly cut hair, down to the back of his neck and landed on his broad shoulders. She licked her lips as her eyes continued down the length of his toned arms, and finally landed on his ass. She held her breath as she tried to restrain herself from saying “fuck it” and pouncing on him.

“You gone spank me for being a bad boy?” He joked sarcastically, bringing her back to the present.

“You’re not funny. Besides I don’t like to cause pain, at least not in that way.” She answered, placing the cuffs around his wrists and clicking them closed. She grabbed his arm and walked him to the end of the sofa. She turned him round until he faced her and took a few steps back.

They stared at each other for a while. There was no need to speak because the amount of hunger in the room from both parties spoke volumes. Terry stood tall, hands behind his back, eyes low and rested on hers. The wifebeater he wore almost clung to him the way his toned body filled the thin fabric. Terry waited patiently for her next command, his expression remaining as calm as ever.

The only sound in the room was their breathing. Khloé stood there secretly hoping that this would be her last partner or simply one that could last her a very long time. She doubted that she’d ever come across someone else who was crafted as perfectly as he was. His body, his voice, his eyes, his whole damn face and especially those damn lips. She only hoped that his skills in bed matched his looks.

“On your knees.”

to be continued…

#aaron pierre #terry richmond #aaron pierre fanfiction #aaron pierre x black fem reader #aaron pierre x black reader #rebel ridge #terry richmond fic #aaron pierre fic #terry richmond x black female reader #terry richmond x black!oc

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lorelune · 11 months ago

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O4O: part ii

|| jing yuan x reader || E/18+ || omega 4 omega, hurt/comfort || wc: 11.5k || ao3 ||

After your swift departure following his heat, Jing Yuan copes with your strange behavior. He only hopes you will crumble, so he may catch you.

minors, antis and ageless blogs dni

✨O4O masterlist✨ // part i - part ii - part iii (part 1 & part 2) //

notes: ohhhh mommy jing yuan how you continue to captivate me. this piece has been so fun to dive into!! and has gotten longer than anticipated :'^) though o4o was a planned two shot, it will now be in three parts!! please enjoy this part and all the goodness of caring kind and patient mommy jing yuan <33 thank you soo much to @ofmermaidstories, @owlespresso, & @honeyedgifts for beta reading and providing invaluable feedback. KITH!! now ENJOY!!

CW: a/b/o, omega jing yuan, omega reader, reader with afab anatomy and referred to with they/them pronouns, a burgeoning mommy jing yuan, hurt/comfort, sick fic, angst that WILL resolve (i prommy), author-cooked omegaverse lore, one threat of spanking, a single named OC, medical environments, past dan feng/jing yuan/yingxing

Jing Yuan remembers his first heat startlingly well.

It occurred only a day or two after he presented. He’d been Jingliu’s apprentice for less than half a decade. Fresh-faced and young, soft in his cheeks with youth. His scent had sweetened rather suddenly while out in the field with his fellow Cloud knights. His normally neutral aroma turned to something balmy and honey-like in the space of an afternoon. Jing Yuan had felt tender in the days leading up to this change, however, he hadn’t thought anything of it.

He was raised by two betas, after all. They had not bothered teaching Jing Yuan the signs to look out for when nearing the precipice of presenting and the symptoms of an impending heat. Jing Yuan hadn’t understood why the aggressive scents of sweat and musk that clung to the bedclothes and sleep sacks of his fellow recruits bothered him so much. He hadn’t understood why his chest and inner thighs ached, despite not being bruised or overworked by Jingliu’s training exercises. He did not understand why a few of the squirrelier recruits in his company seemed to follow a few paces behind him after their afternoon exercises, lingering around the communal shower as Jing Yuan washed himself.

Jingliu, however, was a coupled alpha with a very kind, loving omega mate. And the moment Jingliu smelled Jing Yuan, freshly bathed and without the reek of sweat on him, she quarantined him to a private quarter with as many blankets and pillows as she could find.

Jingliu was not an affectionate master. She was rather cold and rarely gave Jing Yuan any type of leniency during his training. She did not know restraint, she knew mastery and passion like they were her lovers and not the chipper Foxian that Jing Yuan would one day come to call one of his most beloved friends.

Yet, as Jing Yuan ripened and his first heat rolled over him, Jingliu was outstandingly kind. She stayed with him in his nest of scratchy, ill-suited blankets and scented him as gently as she knew how. Wrist-to-wrist, nosing at his sweaty temple tentatively. She saw to him until Baiheng could arrive and take up the task.

Jing Yuan can still recall hazily watching Baiheng and Jingliu exchange scents at his bedside, caressing each other so tenderly in a mere greeting. He remembers thinking:

“Will I be held like that one day?”

The thought was violent back then. Jing Yuan had not yearned in such a way before and he immediately assumed such a deep desire for intimate companionship surely had to come from his heat-addled mind.

Jing Yuan now knows that this assumption is wrong.

He had been held kindly, one day, by Yingxing and Dan Feng who tended to him so well. The kindest mates, sweet in their own ways, though always sharp-tongued. They both carried attitudes, but Jing Yuan didn’t mind the teasing and prodding they exchanged. The banter was half the fun. Jing Yuan knew that it would one day end, as Yingxing was short-lived and Dan Feng would’ve (should’ve) outlived Jing Yuan.

(It did end, but so differently than he expected. Yingxing, an abomination torn asunder that barely recognizes Jing Yuan as an old, scorned friend and not a lover. Dan Feng— now Dan Heng— he who wears the face of the man Jing Yuan loved but who cannot ever give him the same things. He who will never want the same things.)

Jing Yuan carried (carries) his broken heart well. What’s done is done. Jing Yuan never expected to be loved again, cherished or held like something to be cherished or held. Gentleness, he gives to others when he can, though he would never expect to receive it.

Maybe he craved it.

How could he not?

Regardless of secondary gender, everyone needs care.

In the throes of his heat, he craves the presence of a lover and companionship so deeply it makes him feel sick. His heats now are nothing like this first heat, where Baiheng wiped his brow with a cold rag and whispered to him kind praises like a mother would. They are nothing like the many he shared with Yingxing and Dan Feng, who fought over the best ways to please and sate him.

His heats now are lonely things. They are seldom more than a grudge match between the repetitive stress injuries in his arms and the knotting toys he keeps at his bedside and his motivation to be fucked and knotted by a false phallus made of silicone. His heats are unpleasant, truthfully, and if it wasn’t detrimental to his health, Jing Yuan would take an abortive medication before each one and stop them from occurring at all.

Until recently.

You somehow snuck your way close to him (he invited you to do so), and offered him the thing he had craved for centuries without a second thought. No expectations, no transaction. Your earnestness had always been a point of attraction for Jing Yuan. Sincerity as a turn on. You offered him your presence, body, scent and a smile for nothing more than an assurance that he wanted you.

And, of course he did. Jing Yuan is not a proud man, and he will admit his faults readily. And whether it’s a quirk of biology, his own psyche, or some combination of the two, he wants you.

And now he has had you.

And yet, you left him and his bed cold.

...

Jing Yuan worries in the days that follow his heat. Post-heat makes him antsy and anxious in a way that is uncommon for him. He alternates between pacing the courtyards in the middle of his estate and burying his face in the linens and pillows of his nest, soaking up as much of your fading scent as he can. He lives in the robe you had favored. He brings the wide, silk neckline of the garment to his nose frequently to inhale the strongest smell of you that lingers there.

He feels, notably, a bit pathetic.

It isn’t like him to stew like this even in post-heat. Usually, he’ll be on edge and fatigued, spending a day or two in bed before returning to the Seat of Divine Foresight to catch up on paperwork. It’s unpleasant, but not unbearable, and he doesn’t carry the same pit in his stomach that he does now.

His palms sweat during the day hours. He sleeps poorly.

It doesn’t help that you hardly contact him during the days that follow. He received a single text from you, just after you had left so abruptly:

[name]: i just got home safe. i apologize again. i hope you are well.

And nothing beyond that.

Jing Yuan assumes your own heat had hit. This is the most logical conclusion, as occasionally one omega’s heat can trigger another’s. It explains your erratic behavior and the scent-blocking patches plastered to the side of your neck. And Jing Yuan supposes it is fair for you to want to be home, near your nest your instincts would urge you to.

However—

(Jing Yuan is pathetic and a bit petty, and cannot deny that he is upset that you didn’t think to ask him to be your heatmate, after you so diligently and tenderly cared for him.)

Jing Yuan is not used to the conflict between his omegan urges and his own sense of reason. It makes him feel sick with a headache during the final day of his post-heat. He can’t even enjoy his usual tonic of ginger, lemon, and lyran root without a roll of nausea. His post-heat finishes with him alone (naturally, it seems, as it always is) and with a tummy ache that would flatten him were he a weaker man and not Arbiter-General.

...

Jing Yuan does not expect you to appear at your weekly, scheduled lunch. He assumes you are in the throes of your heat. He assumes you are—

(Suffering alone, in an empty nest probably. Or, had you contacted someone? There’s an insecure murmuring in the back of Jing Yuan's mind that worries you had flagged down someone else to keep your company. Maybe an alpha coworker from the Sky-Faring Commission. Maybe a sensible beta acquaintance who can keep an eye on you, but never get too close. Perhaps, you had hired a handsome, pay-per-heat alpha to warm your bed. Jing Yuan hasn’t indulged, but there are plenty of services on the Luofu that offer a catalog of vetted alphas to knot and sate a needy omega.)

It’s an easy spiral to fall into. One Jing Yuan worries himself in until your next lunch.

His worries turn to confusion upon arriving at his terraced garden to find you already at the gate. You idle, bouncing on your toes with a basket thrown over your arm. Jing Yuan can smell the aroma of freshly baked bread and rich, warm butter emanating from the basket. It mixes with your... scent beautifully. It soothes something in him instantly.

You give him a timid wave and a soft, “Hello, Jing Yuan.”

(Something in him aches.)

Jing Yuan assesses you quickly as you, together, set up the picnic for the meal in silence. Your neck is bare, soft, and unblemished. Not a single bite mark peaks above your collar which provides Jing Yuan with so much relief, that he almost sighs aloud. You seem well-fed, cheeks filled out and soft. Most interestingly, your scent is not heat-stricken. There’s not a hint of pre, post, or standing heat on you. The only difference to your scent is the taste of smoke that lingers in the back of his throat, something charred and acidic. Displeasure. Anxiety.

This all leaves Jing Yuan with more questions than answers, however he asks none during the meal.

Perhaps, Jing Yuan is feeling fragile. Your relationship feels tenuous, despite the seemingly consensual, pleasurable intimacy you so recently shared. Regardless of that, you sit across from him at the low table, picking over your plate quietly and nipping at the skin around your cuticles when you’re not. You can barely meet his eyes as Jing Yuan makes surface-level small talk.

“The weather is lovely today, isn’t it?”

“It is.”

...

“This bread is wonderful. What bakery did you pick up from?”

“The one at the edge of Aurum Alley. With the striped banner in the window.”

...

“How is Yukong and the Sky Faring Commission these days?”

“Just fine.”

...

Just fine.

It’s stilted and odd. You are clearly aware of the tension, with your shoulders drawn up to your ears and a half-scowl fixed on your pretty lips. Jing Yuan does what he can to parry around it, and draw out what he can from you gingerly. He doesn’t wish to pry at you; he knows it won’t do any good with you this guarded. He’s never known you to be anything other than earnest, so it is easy to conclude that your current demeanor and behavior are based within some type of discomfort.

He does not want to worsen it.

Lunch ends quickly that first week. You do not linger, only offering a quick goodbye before escaping him through a back entrance to the gardens. You offer him a single, fleeting look that echoes a pain Jing Yuan isn’t sure he has a name for yet. It makes something in him shudder and fracture, the soft-hearted omega in him begging the rational, sensical parts of him to chase you down, drag you by your scruff into his nest and explain yourself.

However, Jing Yuan does not. Instead, he leaves you with a melancholy smile on his lips and worn lines under his eyes.

...

Over the next few weeks, your lunches follow the same pattern. You arrive first, act cold and sad during the meal and leave promptly without lingering once it is over. Your scent remains acrid, varying sometimes to sickly sweet in a way that makes Jing Yuan nauseous. You hardly touch your food and offer him little in the way of conversation. Or information. Or anything remotely in the same realm as the soft closeness you had shared in his nest, or the lilting banter you exchanged before.

Jing Yuan bides his time and does what he can to put you together, outside of your scheduled, weekly meetings.

He reviews your social media for any new postings (there are none). He is keen to take note of any others’ scents that linger on you during your lunches (there are none that are unusual). He even trails you to the evening markets a few times. You’re sullen even then, picking veggies and fruit with a darkened expression. Tired and cold.

It is perhaps... invasive for Jing Yuan to keep such an intense eye on you. He can accept that. It seems like the wiser option than prodding and poking you and your off mood when you clearly want to spend the least amount of time with him as possible. Jing Yuan knows he must maneuver about your relationship carefully.

And truthfully? This is unknown territory to him. He is cautious.

And ultimately? Jing Yuan surmises that you will come to him before he must prod you. You are honest and Jing Yuan is certain (certain) that it must be very difficult for you to hold your tongue and fester the way you are. He resolves to allow you to wallow for a bit longer, before stepping in. He’ll examine you more closely then and find the weak points in your facade if necessary. He’ll lance through them then, and some type of catharsis will follow. The outcome of which he hopes is favorable.

(He hopes that it ends in companionship. Coupling, if he is to dream. He’ll take scraps as long as it is you.)

This behavior of his could, theoretically, destroy your relationship.

(Dan Feng never liked prying. He was a very private person who was so, so careful with what he shared. Even with his mates. Inversely, Yingxing was far from private. He complained and groused about anything and everything that rubbed him the wrong way. There were times when Yingxing would attempt to contain his poor moods, though this was rarely successful. It would inevitably lead to an evening-long outburst between the three of them. Explosive anger and sadness would fade into a sweetened dusk as they shared Jing Yuan’s nest, comforted by the warmth and lack of space between them.

What destroyed their relationship was the unnamed thing that Yingxing and Dan Feng shared that did not include Jing Yuan.

Jing Yuan never minded it. Both Yingxing and Dan Feng operated in their own unique niches on the Luofu, as High Elder and a rare short-lived genius, and they found a special type of kinship in that. Jing Yuan was not jealous within their polycule.

Perhaps he should have been.

Dan Feng’s brooding anxiety was a quiet thing. Like a storm out at sea, writhing as one looked on it from the shoreline. Something to watch out for, to run from, to seek high ground away from, but so distant that it was easy to dismiss.

Dan Feng feared Yingxing’s inevitable, looming death. Dan Feng loved so deeply and he would lose it so soon. Jing Yuan felt similarly but tempered the feeling. Dan Feng, despite his many meditations and mantras, did not.

Dan Feng had been given so little that was truly his in his lifetime. To have the life of a lover ripped away by something as trivial as biology incensed him.

Yingxing entertained Dan Feng too much. Spurred on things too large for him to truly understand. It’s belittling to say, but Jing Yuan believed it then, and believes it even more in retrospect. Yingxing researched and fed Dan Feng’s hope and anxiety in tandem. He kept Jing Yuan in the dark near the end, with lust-filled nights, a fat knot, and a well-cared-for nest.

When Jing Yuan pressed the two of them about their shared absences, their oddly timed visits to Scale Gorge and peculiar demeanors, he was pushed away. Shut out. It made him hurt and shake and only the two of them could put him back together in those instances. To be squeezed between them, fucked out and full, would soothe any wounds their distance left. Temporarily. They’d only be more distant the morning after and the cycle would begin again.

For all of his sharpness, Jing Yuan was unable to stop them in the end

Truly, how does one stop the mighty storm, born from the sea and the volcanic belches beneath its surface? Jing Yuan is only a man. To be caught in the ocean’s swirling undertow and the sky’s gales would have been a fruitless struggle. Treading water in the calm sea was hard enough. Under the tempest Dan Feng and Yingxing birthed? Jing Yuan could not bear it. He did not know how. The mutually-assured destruction that the duo brewed was not meant for anyone other than each other.

Jing Yuan wonders if his own aches had pushed the two away from him and closer to each other.

Was it guilt they were both too stubborn to name? Or, something worse like dislike or even hate? Did they only tolerate him, by the end, when they were too engrossed in their plans to achieve immortality to care about their omega anymore? Was Jing Yuan’s long-faded claiming bite a burden to them?

Jing Yuan tries not to dwell on it. It makes him too sad.

He will not deny the effects that their departure had on him. He is tentative to entertain lasting bonds like the ones he once had. He rejects every suitor. He is far too careful in sharing his burdens with those who do care for him. He dances with his words and feelings better than any street performer in Aurum Alley.

He worries for you because he has created some type of bond with you, and he worries that if he pries, you will run off and away from him, into a storm that he cannot weather, only to be swallowed by it.)

So, Jing Yuan is careful.

...

Things boil over exactly a month after Jing Yuan’s heat.

It is sooner than expected, though you are a tender-hearted thing. Perhaps Jing Yuan should’ve suspected that you would break within your own turmoil sooner rather than later.

On this day, you are not early to lunch. You are absent from the gates at the appointed time. Initially, Jing Yuan thinks you perhaps went in without him (you never do, always waiting to walk in step with him), though you are not any place in the garden when he does enter. The low table is bare as he steps under the gazebo and settles himself onto one of the silk pillows.

Jing Yuan can’t help but be nervous, rubbing at the scent glands on his wrist without thinking of it. As the minutes tick by, his unease grows like an oily bubble in his chest.

(You haven’t sent him any messages indicating you wouldn’t be here. You haven’t ever been so late before, never left him idling like this without any sort of communication. Your silence seems to speak more than anything else you’ve said to him in the past few weeks.)

(‘I don’t want to see you anymore, Jing Yuan.’)

Before Jing Yuan has further time to catastrophize, the back gate to the garden opens with a slam. It shuts far more quietly a moment later. You stand next to it, fumbling with the mechanical latch.

As your scent bleeds over the garden, Jing Yuan stands without thinking. His own spiral shatters.

Your scent is sour. Like something rotten, like a fruit ripened and laid with the eggs of insects. It’s far more alarming than the off notes that your scent has carried recently. It’s sickly sweet, earthen, and fleshy in a way that is startling and putrid. The sweet warmth of it is gone, not even a layer of it remains as you mutter to yourself, continuing to struggle with the gate, visibly panicking.

You speak before Jing Yuan can further acknowledge you, “I’m s-so sorry to be late. I-I got caught up with something in the Alchemy Commission, and the Starskiff tram— it filled up and I had to catch the next one, and then— I missed my stop? I’m sorry—”

You run a hand through your hair and tug.

Jing Yuan must attempt to soothe you, yes? He keeps his voice even and low as he says, “It’s alright.”

You do not look well, Jing Yuan realizes as he nears you. Your appearance matches your scent. Sweat soaks your temples, running in rivulets down your neck to visibly soak the collar of your innermost garments. Your pupils are pinpricked, gaze far away even as you (attempt) to speak to him. Your lips are chapped, chewed raw. The petal-softness looks almost busted open on one side from the abuse.

You scowl at him and shake your head.

“It hardly is.” You mumble. “I—I didn’t mean to make you wait. Or worry— if you did. I’m sorry to assume.”

“There’s nothing to apologize for,” Jing Yuan approaches you carefully, slowly, the way one would approach a frightened, soaked kitten. “How about we sit, hm? I’ve already poured us both water, and it looks like you could use some.”

You open your lips to protest, and the bloody scab at the corner tears. Fresh scarlet bleeds over the puckered flesh and you turn away from him, just enough to paw at the wound obscured.

“I’m sorry.”

Jing Yuan’s heart breaks a fraction.

Your unwellness strikes something in him, and a white-hot dread burns from the base of his skull, down his spine, and settles in his hands and lower core. It is the physical reaction to the lucid understanding that something is clearly wrong. He can’t quite parse what, but he knows he needs to find out. Mend. Do something because if he has to hear the broken inflection in your voice for much longer, he will shatter. His nerves and resolve are more frayed than he thought.

With his voice soft and gentle, he says, “I appreciate you thinking of me, however, you truly do not need to apologize. If you’d like, you can continue your apologies once we get you into the shade and get some water in you. It’s already chilled. I’ll pour you a glass. How does that sound?”

It’s a belittling way to speak to you. He knows this, yet cannot stop the way his tone sweetens and lightens. It feels— natural, instinctual. It makes his mouth feel dry and tacky because—

(God, when was the last time he allowed himself to respond to his own anxiety and need to care in this way?)

(Will you be receptive to it?)

You stare at him, scowling and wet-eyed, “It— sounds f-fine. I can pour the water, though.”

(Perhaps.)

Jing Yuan steels himself, “Would you let me? I’d very much like to.”

“I always p-pour it though,” you sniffle. “You don’t need to.”

“I’d like to.”

He would.

Jing Yuan offers you his hand, palm up and inviting.

(He anticipates a rejection. There’s an afterimage, a fragmented memory of Dan Feng scolding Jing Yuan for this flavor of soppy vulnerability. Yingxing once laughed in his face for this type of sober-minded, sexless tenderness. They didn’t mean it to be cruel. They didn’t know how it bruised part of him so deeply that centuries later, his hand trembles the slightest bit as he holds it out to you with the same feelings warming his chest down to his toes.)

You take his hand.

Jing Yuan feels himself relax, if only a little.

He guides you back to the table, rubbing his thumb along the meat of your palm. He deposits you next to him at the table, rather than your usual spot across. You don’t seem to mind, you’re too focused on immediately fussing with the pillows and mats below you. Jing Yuan idles, watching.

You’re so uncomfortable in your own skin.

It takes you a while to settle. You shift from your knees, to cross-legged, then back to your knees. The pillow you’re atop clearly isn’t to your liking as you wobble on top of it, frown deepening as you try to get comfortable. You don’t look at him— or you won’t look at him, he isn’t entirely sure.

Jing Yuan pours each of you a glass of water and sets yours close to you.

“Drink?”

“Not yet,” You shove at the pillow between your legs. Your voice pinches. “I— I need a moment.”

“Take your time,” Jing Yuan assures you.

(He will not let you hurt for long. He can’t.)

You push and pull at the cushion. Your thighs quiver as you barely manage to hold yourself up to try and sit more comfortably. Jing Yuan watches you, taking note of how your body seems to struggle with its own weight. When your outer garment spreads open around your legs and he gets a peak of your inner layers, he can see that you’re soaked. Though, there’s no scent of slick on you. He presumes it must be sweat.

Poor, poor thing.

You gnaw at your bottom lip, teeth digging into the wound that’s already there. It weeps blood, a little smear of it dragging onto your chin.

That’s enough.

Jing Yuan snatches your water glass up. Gently, he presses the rim of it to your lips.

“Drink, please.”

It’s a gamble, truthfully. This much proximity and care could scare you off. It could make you turn tail and run, really. But, Jing Yuan needs this, he thinks. He needs to show you he cares in a way that is tangible and touchable and maybe then—

(You will understand the depth of his feelings. Maybe, you’ll even learn you can lean on him.)

You look over the top of the glass at him with widened eyes, “I—”

“Perhaps it will help you settle. You look quite dehydrated.”

“B-But I feel gross, I don’t want to drink anything.”

Jing Yuan implores you, “Will you try?”

“I don’t want to.” Your tone edges to that of a petulant child, fists balling up over your thighs. “I-I don’t know if it will help.”

Jing Yuan hums thoughtfully. “It certainly won’t hurt to have a small sip, would it?”

“... Probably not.”

You flash him a teary look before jolting your gaze away from him, blinking rapidly.

“For me, then?” Jing Yuan asks. “Just a little sip. If it makes you feel worse, you don’t need to drink any more. But, I really do think it will help.”

“... Okay.” You concede.

Jing Yuan expects you to take the glass from him. You have been careful not to touch him since his heat after all, and with how cagey you are, this hardly seems like the exception. And yet, you wrap your hands around his own that hold the glass, and tilt it back to sip. He follows the motion, careful to make sure you don’t choke.

Jing Yuan watches you take a small sip, then another, then a third, and suddenly you throw back the glass and take a gulp.

It soothes something in him.

He’s careful to keep the glass tilted just right so you do not drown yourself. You take large sips, water spilling from the corners of the glass, down your chin. Jing Yuan feels soothed as you finish it, allowing him to pour you another. You shake like a leaf next to him as he does.

“Slower with this next one,” Jing Yuan urges. “Would you like me to help you again?”

“I—I— No. You shouldn’t.” You shake your head. A moment later, you lay forward, face down on the table, bracing your forehead against the wood and hiding your face from him. Your arms wrap around your middle. “You shouldn’t have to.”

You curl in on yourself.

“But, I’d like to. If it would help you and make things easier.”

Jing Yuan moves to pet the back of your head but pauses, just before he does. He hovers there, considering, assessing—

He can’t be entirely sure what state you’re in. It’s clearly not heat, nor is it pre-heat. Perhaps you are ill regardless of your heat cycle, but he hadn’t noticed any other symptoms other than sweating, a clear fever, and your rancid scent. He cannot be sure any type of contact, intimate or otherwise, will be wanted, let alone welcomed.

He takes a chance.

(Jing Yuan remembers that you are a soft creature. Fragile and craving. You need contact, even if you think you don’t. Jing Yuan will remind you of this.)

He sweeps any hair off the back of your neck and lays his palm flat over the nape of it. His fingers wrap around the sides of your throat, just barely, and squeeze. Not enough to cause discomfort, just applying enough pressure that you can both be grounded in it. Jing Yuan nearly growls when he feel the absolutely torched state of your scent glands—

You keen. It’s a warbling thing and tension leaks out from you. Like a half-built home, you collapse in on yourself. You sniffle a moment later and press your face harder into the wood. Jing Yuan— he can’t have that. Seeing you hurt hurts him. He coaxes your head up as much as he can and rubs at the skin of your neck. Not near your scent glands, they’re too sensitive, even with the barest touch. He leaves them alone as a concern to sort out later.

You allow him this contact. You even lean into it and toward him as he pets you. Your shoulder bumps into his own and Jing Yuan can feel the heat coming off of you in waves. He hates this. He hates seeing you in pain, suffering, and he wants to fix it, but biding his time is the best option. He must be coaxing and gentle regardless of how he’d like to heft you over his shoulder, take you back to his nest, and make sure you are safe and well-cared for. It would help. Whatever state you’re in, suffering alone can’t be helping you. But being too rash could scare you off so easily.

You shiver beside him. Poor, poor thing. Your eyes are red-rimmed and glassy. He squeezes your neck reassuringly. Instantly, you’re hiding and burying your face in your hands.

“Jing Yuan,” you say softly. “You must stop being kind to me. Please.”

“I don’t think I can, dear.” His tongue slips and his heart aches. What a foolish idea for you to have. “Why do you not want me to be kind to you?”

“Because—” You chew on your words and shake your head. “I— I haven’t been good to you. I’ve actually been shit to you, and— it’s not fair for you to be so kind to me when I have been so vile.”

‘Vile’ is too strong of a word. Too cruel to yourself. You’ve been avoidant, yes. Unwell and dealing with so poorly, entirely. But vile? Hardly. Though your actions stung, he doesn’t hold the previous weeks against you. Especially in this moment, where his concern far outweighs any other feeling he carries. Any other pains you’ve caused him can be addressed later. There is more to parse. But nothing that takes precedence now that you are beginning to crumble.

“I disagree.” Jing Yuan says your name, sweet on his lips and aching between his ribs, “Please do not speak of yourself so poorly.”

“But it’s true,” your voice wobbles. Your shoulders shake. “I deserve it, don’t I? You are too kind to me, Jing Yuan, but I have been cruel to you. I left you in post-heat. I continue— to see you and pretend everything is fine, and that we’re fine, and that I’m fine even if we both know that something clearly isn’t. Yet, I-I’m too much of a fucking coward to say anything to you. I k-keep withholding things from you. I keep messing up and I hate that I’m doing it. I feel awful, lying to you and keeping you away. And yet, you are still kind to me—”

A sob breaks your last word and your hands fly to cover your mouth.

He says your name again, voice threatening to break, “It’s alright—”

“But it’s not!” You snap. “I-I care about you so much, Jing Yuan. I really do and I keep messing up. And I-I don’t know how to fix anything. I’m sorry.”

Jing Yuan collects himself and makes a series of decisions very quickly. It’s necessary. Your scent is putrid. Angry and rotten now. And Jing Yuan can’t bear to watch you struggle like this anymore.

He acts. It’s a flurry of motion in which he snakes his arms around your waist. In a single heave, he pulls you into his lap. He hauls you close, against his chest your legs thrown over his thighs. You fight him, just a little. A bit of squirming and a shove or two at his chest, but he isn’t perturbed. His arm stays securely wrapped around your middle as he tugs you closer still. You push against his shoulder with a frown.

“Jing Yuan—”

He tilts your chin up with a wide palm. You startle when you meet his gaze, almost cowering.

“I will not sit here and listen to you berate yourself any further for my sake,” Jing Yuan levels his gaze. He will be stern. He thinks you need it. “Do you understand?”

You bare your teeth at him, “I’m being honest—”

Jing Yuan reaches up and tears one of the scent-blocking patches on the side of his neck off and tosses it aside. His scent radiates. It’s concerned, worried, hurt but the achy kind of pain. Bitter and wind-whipped. You stiffen as his scent mingles with yours. There’s a sharp quality to his own scent that makes you cower just a bit, sinking further into his lap and the support of his arm wrapped around you.

“You are being incredibly harsh to yourself,” Jing Yuan tells you, softening his voice. He pets your cheeks and watches your eyes begin to water once more. “It doesn’t serve me, and it certainly doesn’t serve you. I know that you are upset, I have been able to smell it since the moment you entered the garden. I would like to help, but I can’t if you focus on being cruel to yourself, rather than telling me what is hurting you so badly.”

“I—” You swallow and wring your hands in your lap. Your words fade off and you only nod.

Tears slip down your cheeks anew. Before you have a chance to try and wipe them away, Jing Yuan ducks his head lower, closer to yours, and swipes the tears away with his thumbs. You sniffle when he does, meeting his eyes, only to look away quickly and fix your gaze on the ground. Your shoulders stay slack, though.

(A sign of submission.)

Jing Yuan will take it. He adjusts so that you’re fully bundled in his lap and he buries his nose in your hair. Ideally, he would drag you to lie down in the piles of satin blankets and pillows but Jing Yuan thinks better of it. He’s unsure he’d be able to get up if he were to get tangled up with you. The instinct to nest feels too intense to not heed if he were nestled any closer to you and the soft cushions.

You shiver against his chest. Whether it’s fever or nerves, it is hard to tell. You almost vibrate, sniffling and allowing Jing Yuan to tend to your cheeks. You even let him press his lips below each of your eyes. A little sob cuts off as he pulls away from you. He squeezes around your waist.

“Will you tell me what is going on?” He asks, voice hardly above a whisper.

You gather yourself, then nod. Your cheek squishes against the plate of armor on his chest and you bear into him. It doesn’t even seem like you’re doing so on purpose.

“I m-messed up,” you tell him quietly. “Really bad.”

“I’m sure it’s nothing that can’t be fixed,” he assures you.

“But, Jing Yuan, it is bad. Even if it’s fixable, I don’t even know where to start.”

“That’s alright,” he replies. “I’d like to help, but I can only do that if you tell me what’s wrong. What happened, dear?”

It takes you a moment to gather yourself. You grab one of his hands and cradle it in both of yours. Sweetly, you rub at the meat of his thumb and over his palms. You glance up at him as you do.

“I was foolish.”

Something in him cracks.

“Do not insult yourself again, or I will put you over my knee.” The words fly from Jing Yuan’s mouth without any forethought. “Do you understand?”

It’s too far— it should be too far— but it’s clearly not as you squeak and nod, compliant. Something to be addressed... later. One thing at a time.

“I—” You nod your head erratically. “I understand. I won’t. I promise.”

“Good, dear.” He is brazen enough to lean his nose into your temple. You lean into him with a wet hiccup. “Please continue.”

“Okay,” you say. “I—I messed up while I was helping you with your heat. Like, really messed up. I d-didn’t mean to, but I didn’t take my suppressants the entire time I was with you.”

Jing Yuan barely keeps himself from stiffening up.

“I see,” he breathes. “Do you take the variety of suppressants that need to be taken daily?”

“Uh-huh,” You nod with a gulp. “I u-usually take them at night, right before bed. But I didn’t even think about them while I was with you. I was... having such a nice time that they completely slipped my mind until the morning I left your home. I started to feel a little weird in the shower, and my scent got all muddled, and I remembered.”

“I see,” Jing Yuan replies with a nod. “You did not smell like heat the following week if I recall.”

“I t-took an abortive heat-onset p-prescription I keep on hand,” you tell him softly. “I have a bottle of it that was prescribed by a healer I see at the Alchemy Commission. I have... severe heats. It’s better to stop them at all costs than to weather one.”

You haven’t ever told him this before. Your own heat cycle was always something private and kept to yourself. It makes sense, really. You were under the impression he was an alpha until relatively recently, and you had no reason to share the intimate details of your cycle and its apparent difficulties.

You continue, “My sup— sup— suppressants aren’t a great type, I think? They work well, but they need a high dose to do so. Going off of them cold turkey, even f-for a short time has r-really messed up my heat cycle. I’ve been taking them consistently again, but it’s still a-awful, Jing Yuan.”

Your voice wobbles and breaks when you say his name, and you bury yourself in his chest. You hide there and Jing Yuan can’t help but to huddle over you, rubbing over your arms and waist and hushing you. The urge to soothe overtakes him.

“It hurts, hm?” He speaks the words into your ear, and you shudder and nod profusely. Your scent is spiking, sweetening next to the rot. It’s better, at least by a fraction.

“Y-yeah. It’s so much. I keep getting little fevers and think I am going into preheat. Then—then I feel sick, like properly sick, and I think that I’m getting heat sick. I— get heat sick really easily, so it always feels likely and then I’m worried I’ll have my full heat and be sick. So, I—I take more of the abortive medication.”

“Each time you believe that you’re approaching your heat?”

You look down at your lap, shame clouding your eyes, “Y-Yeah. I know it’s bad. It keeps making me ill. My cycle just won’t even out— I feel so stupid— I shouldn’t say that. I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I—I just don’t know what to do.”

Your last word shatters you and you bawl into Jing Yuan’s neck.

He lets you. He brings his knees up, boxes you into him and lets you scent him feverishly. Jing Yuan so badly wants to scent you back, but he is ever-aware of your own inflamed scent glands and thinks better of it. It would bring you more pain than relief at this point. Instead, he does everything else he can think of to ease you. He lets you nose into the scent glands on his neck, open-mouthed and panted between labored breaths. His hands run up and down your back and arms, smearing his own scent all over you.

“It’s alright,” He, instead, assures you through your panic. “Thank you for telling me.”

“Of course,” you hiccup and rub your cheek against his. “I just want it to stop.”

Of course, you do. Jing Yuan feels awful that you’ve been suffering and struggling and he hasn’t lent a hand this entire time. He feels— a bit foolish himself for not putting together that this was why you have been so avoidant and reclused recently.

“I know,” he replies gently and cajoles your face away from his neck. You start crying harder and with your full chest when you don’t have direct contact with his scent gland anymore. Poor thing. He rubs under your eyes and softens his own. “It’s been scary, hasn’t it?”

“Mhm,” You turn into his hand, seeking him. God, Jing Yuan is going to crumble along with you.

“I’m sorry you’ve had to weather this alone.” He says gently. “I’d like to try and help you, if you’ll let me.”

“... Only— and I m-mean only, if I am not burdening you.”

“You are not a burden to me.” You could never be. Jing Yuan speaks seriously and presses his lips, now chapped and dry with his worry, to your forehead. He lingers. “Even if you are struggling, it does not burden me to help you. It is much more of a hardship to think about you suffering alone or watching you suffering alone in the present. I would very much like to help— perhaps with a visit to the Alchemy Commission is in order firstly. How does that sound?”

“B-but, I already tried to see a healer today.”

He hums, “Is that why you were a bit tardy?”

You flush and nod, “Uh-huh.”

“What did the healer say?”

“They didn’t have a proper healer available for a walk-in, since they said it wasn’t an emergency,” you reply. “J-just an apprentice. He told me to get bed rest and try to take some time off of work.”

“Sound advice,” Jing Yuan nods, but notes the fact that you’re still soaked through with sweat and severely unwell. “However, I’d like it if we got you in to see someone for a full exam.”

“They said they were all full today— no appointments.”

Jing Yuan hums, rubbing over your ribs, “I have a personal healer at the Alchemy Commission. I am sure she will be able to make some time for you.”

“... Are you sure?”

“I’m certain.” Using his perks as Arbiter General hardly ever is appealing these days, not anymore. It would be a good use of status to get you into an urgent appointment for what is increasingly becoming an emergency with a physician he trusts.

“... As long as it doesn’t cause any trouble,” you chew your lip and settle back into him.

“You are not trouble,” he reminds you simply. “I only want to help relieve what is so clearly troubling you. Do you trust me to help?”

He asks you directly. Something is emerging between the two of you, he can tell and sense it, even if he doesn’t have a name for it yet. He knows that he will need your explicit trust to hatch the strategies that he wants to. You must trust him if he is going to take care of you well and properly, in the way that he is almost certain you will need.

“Of course.”

Of course, you trust him. You press a kiss to his jaw and linger there. Your neck, with your inflamed scent glands (are those hives rising up over top of them?), bared to him.

Jing Yuan could cry.

You don’t fight him anymore. There’s no bite in you now, just the afterburn of tears and the last dribbles of them that soak down your neck and jaw. Jing Yuan can’t help pressing a few kisses to your burning cheeks. You let loose a warbling whine that breaks the stillness of the garden. Jing Yuan wants more of it, more of you, but there is work to be done first.

You tuck into him as he takes out his phone. It soothes him to see you there, burnt out, but soft-lipped against his chest. He pets over his cheeks as he shoots off a few important messages.

...

The Alchemy Commission is quick to accommodate the General and the omega that the public will come to presume to be his mate. They tend to move heaven and earth when he requests anything of them (The last two High Elder’s have been quite fond of him, and that bias persists throughout their delve.) He has never been so happy to be in their good graces.

With haste upon your arrival, you are situated in a spacious exam room. It’s perfectly quiet; it’s the one they always keep Jing Yuan confined to when he requires attention. He’s glad they afford you the same care. It’s quite necessary.

You’ve wilted on the journey over. Though Jing Yuan offered to arrange a house call so you could rest in the comfort of your home, you shot down the offer immediately and without debate.

(“My ne— my house isn’t presentable.”)

It’s fair. A cagey, sick omega rarely wants a stranger in their home.

Besides, the atmosphere of the clinic seems to soothe you— both of you. The exam room is outfitted with a long line of cupboards and jars for dry storage. Various mortars and pestles for mixing and grinding of remedies sit on a bench. There’s even a small stove made of black rock to be used if a medication requires heating. The smell of dried herbs and medicinal oils permeates the air, and each lungful settles something in him. It reminds him of the many nights he spent bothering Dan Feng while he concocted the High Elder’s pearl panacea for his patients. It brings Jing Yuan back to his own bouts of illness, when Yingxing would chide him for being reckless while slathering his chest and the bottoms of his feet with minty salve.

Your scent dulls with the environment as well. The white noise of rushing water, just beyond the delve, surely helps relax you too.

(You still do not look well. Jing Yuan tries not to fixate and spiral on the fact that you are so deeply unwell, as it will not serve him further than working himself up. He instead keeps close to you, bearing your weight as you lean into his side and slump. You burn beside him.)

You only perk up when Jing Yuan’s healer enters.

His healer is a silver-eyed Foxian named Lei Huiling. As she enters the exam room, a gentle wave of budding jasmine flowers and rock sugar follows. It’s a gentle scent, clearly of an omega. It’s non-obtrusive, but still calming. Jing Yuan has always appreciated its quality, and he can see that you do as well as you sniff toward her and relax a degree.

She bows politely, “I apologize for any sort of wait.”

“It’s alright.” You reply, voice crackling and parched. “Thank you for making some time for me.”

“It’s my pleasure. I am happy to accommodate any request of the General. The Divine Foresight owing me a favor is an added bonus.” She gives a snaggletooth smile with a tilt of her head. Despite your condition, you stifle a laugh.

Jing Yuan appreciates the levity.

“The General is good for them.” You tell her. Your voice is crackling and dry.

It makes Lei Huiling’s brow furrow. “The General is an honorable man, you think?”

“I know.”

You squeeze Jing Yuan’s hand. It’s painfully heartfelt and vulnerable. Jing Yuan doesn’t think you’d reveal your affection with such ease if you weren’t so terribly beaten down.

Lei Huiling seems to sense this as well. She wheels up a chair and situates herself across from the two of you. “I know a bit of what you’ve been struggling with based on your intake information, along with the General’s messages. Could you describe it to me as well? As much detail as you can provide.”

Lei Huiling’s words make you look afraid. You look trapped, ensnared, and Jing Yuan wishes you wouldn’t. It’s the mixture of both guilt and fear that twists your pretty lips and has you mincing in the round, pitted chair you are sitting in. This is frightening for you, all of it, he knows. To have to bear details of something you’ve been so diligently trying to cope with (and hide, but that can be addressed later) clearly is causing you distress.

You squeeze his hand. Jing Yuan squeezes back with more force, and takes to rubbing his thumb over the back of yours. Only then do you begin to explain.

Your explanation is largely the same as the one you provided to him earlier. You do, however, add a handful of (concerning) details.

(“I-I took my abortive medication... maybe eight times. I know that’s too many—”)

(“I’ve been avoiding social s-settings, yes.”)

(“I don’t have much of a pack.”)

(“I haven’t slept well since this has all started.”)

Each admission sends Jing Yuan into a minor panic. He is so, so grateful he carries an extra scent patch on his person and was able to reapply his after tearing it off earlier. The last thing he needs is for you to be aware of his own spiral and machinations through his storm-charged scent.

“It must have been very difficult to go through what you have so far.” His healer gives you a sympathetic look. “Given your symptoms, I’d like to complete a standard exam, if that is alright with you. It would give us a baseline and establish the best ways to proceed to get you feeling better. Does that sound alright?”

You nod, “I’m o-okay with that. Can Jing Yuan— um, can the General stay?”

“Of course. He is welcome to stay for the exam if that would make you the most comfortable. I would like to check the cortisol levels in your slick, however, and that will require you to disrobe while we collect a sample.”

You eye him, think for a moment, then reply, “... He can leave for that part.”

Jing Yuan laughs and scents you with his wrist, “As you wish.”

He doesn’t enjoy leaving you alone, even if he’s only idling in the hallway outside of the exam room. The door is thin and draped with woven curtains, so the sounds inside are muffled, but he strains to hear you regardless. Never mind the various whispers and looks he garners from the various staff who see him keeping watch over an (his) omega. He needs the confirmation that you are—

(Okay.)

...

His healer taps through a tablet with a schooled expression but regards you warmly.

“So, let’s go over things. I will say, that the results of your exam and the few tests we ran are not all that surprising. Your slick does contain a high level of cortisol. You have severe pain in your major scent glands, which is indicative of internal inflammation and imbalance within your pheromonal system. It seems like your fever is lower than it has been, however your temperature is still not within normal range. These symptoms can be attributed to withdrawal symptoms for your specific suppressants.”

“... But, I’ve been taking my suppressants again. On a good schedule too.” You sound like you’ve been kicked.

Jing Yuan doesn’t mean to, he swears. But, maybe, he shoots the healer a sharp look. Maybe.

She takes it in stride, “You have been, but sadly this type of suppressant isn’t very efficient at regulating after an intense withdrawal. I have not prescribed alyan root-based suppressants in many, many years due to this unfortunate quirk. I also believe your symptoms have been compounded due to overuse of your abortive medication that you took when you felt your heat was beginning. It’s a bad cocktail, though you have done well in trying to get you and your cycle back to a healthy stasis.”

“How do we start to remedy things?” Jing Yuan asks.

You look nervous.

“Really, there are two options, in this case. The one that I would recommend first is that we titrate you down on your current suppressants, until you are fully off of them. I’d prescribe a regulating medication as well to ease your symptoms while doing so. Once you’re titrated off, you can go through a heat. ”

You flinch like you’ve been slapped.

Lei Huiling continues, “... This option would be my recommendation. The best way to help your body recover is to allow for a natural heat cycle to re-establish. We can look into suppressant types and abortive varieties that are gentler on your body, and less prone to the types of side effects you’re experiencing, following your heat.”

You stare at your lap.

“... Is there anything else we can do?”

“There is only one other option that could be potentially viable. I can double the dose of your current suppressants and your symptoms should stabilize within the next several weeks. The downside of this is that, given that you take suppressants in the alyan-root family, the already high, necessary dose typically leads to difficult heats down the line, whenever your next occurs. Heat sickness is a given, and with your personal history and disposition to develop heat sickness already, I wouldn’t recommend this option.”

“I see.” You sound like you’re about to cry. “I can understand why.”

Jing Yuan, who hasn’t spoken hardly at all, finds his voice carefully, “May we have a moment?”

“Of course.” She nods to him and offers another look. “Would you like a warm blanket? I can fetch one for you in the meantime.”

“... Yes, please.” You reply.

You’re quiet until Lei Huiling returns with a linen blanket, perfectly toasty. It probably isn’t a good idea to swaddle you in something so warm when you’re already feverish, but Jing Yuan concurs that you need the comfort in this moment. He wraps it around your shoulders and lingers.

“Would you like me to step out as well—?”

“No.” You interrupt, rapidly shaking your head. “... Please stay.”

Of course. Of course, he will.

...

You decide to proceed with the first option.

It is not a decision made easily, even though you agree with Lei Huiling’s assessment that full cessation off of your suppressants is the best course of action in the long run. This decision is made with trepidation regardless. Lei Huiling procures several prescriptions (a tincture of dian orchid nectar, a tea of ginger and myrel root, some tablets that can be dissolved under the tongue that she specifies tastes like apricots, but aren’t made of them—) and writes a detailed, surprisingly legible course of treatment. Her phone number is scribbled at the bottom for you.

You receive the piece of paper with shaking hands.

Lei Huiling prepares your first treatment right in the exam room. It’s a regulating tincture that smells almost too sweet as she unscrews the bottle and shows you how much to dose with the glass pipet (two-thirds of the way full) and where to eject it into your mouth for best results (the corner, under your tongue without touching your lips or tongue to the pipet.)

Jing Yuan commits the details to memory as you smack your lips with the taste. You grimace cutely.

You leave the Alchemy Commission in a daze. Jing Yuan keeps you steady with a hand on your lower back, lingering and keeping you walking in a (mostly) straight line.

He has— much to think about. To ruminate on. The bevy of information he received during your visit and the path forward to remedying you requires careful consideration. There are plans that need to be made, and relatively quickly. The sooner and more keenly Jing Yuan can make them, the sooner he can provide you ease—

(This is under the assumption that you want him involved in your heat.)

He thinks you do. He could be wrong. He could. However, given the way you lean into him, and scent his bicep every few steps, he doesn’t think he has much to worry about. Even if, perhaps, it will take you some time to come to this same conclusion.

He is willing to wait.

There’s a little shop a few blocks down from the Alchemy Commission clinic that is selling noodle jelly bowls, iced and hot. You must be feeling better, as when you pass by the size, your eyes widen and you slow your already-slow pace.

Jing Yuan orders you a bowl to split (iced, you need the cold—) and you settle at a table, tucked in a little courtyard, away from the midday foot traffic. You poke at the desert with a frown, spooning up some of the sweetened puffergoat milk that swirls at the top of the bowl.

“I’m sorry.” You glance up at him, then back down at the bowl.

(Ah, there it is.)

“There’s nothing to be sorry for.”

“That’s hardly true. If I had remembered to take my suppressants during your heat, we— I— we wouldn’t be in this situation. I wouldn’t have hurt you and I wouldn’t be hurting like I am. I wouldn’t require all of this... excess attention. And for that, I apologize.”

“... I accept your apology.” Jing Yuan acquiesces. “Though, I do find it unnecessary.”

“But you shouldn’t find it unnecessary. I know— I know I have been inattentive to you and hiding this from you. It’s not fair to you. You should be upset.” you exclaim, angrily shoving a mouthful of bright green tapioca noodles into your mouth.

“It doesn’t please me that you hid your situation. However, I understand why you did. You were afraid, weren’t you?”

“I mean, yes. I am still frightened, but that’s not an excuse to hurt you. And as a result, you now have to deal with all of... this. Which you don’t, I want to assure you, Jing Yuan. I appreciate your concern and help and presence, but I am capable of handling t-this on my own.”

You gulp. Jing Yuan didn’t think you would be so stubborn.

“You speak as if I’m pulling teeth to simply be in your presence,” Jing Yuan says softly. Your hands ball into fists on the tabletop. “Do you think that?”

“I mean... maybe to a degree? Under current circumstances. You just c-care for me, and keep caring for me, and it must be hard, right?”

“It isn’t.” Caring for you has been the easiest thing he has done in centuries. He probes, “Why would you think that?”

“Jing Yuan,” you steel yourself and look at him. Into him. “Y-You care for so many, so much already. You are the helm of the godship and bear its burdens as your own. You are as dutiful a general as you are a person, and I can only imagine the effort that is required of you, unrelentingly, at the helm of this vessel. I struggle to find my lapse in judgment and its consequences as anything other than another load for you to bear.”

He stares at you. You stare back. He folds his hands into a steeple and rests his chin on them.

You bring up a logical, fair point. It’s a valid concern to raise, and one that he has already considered. The Luofu is in peacetime. Looming threats have been accounted for and there are always several sets of eyes scanning for any potential new calamities waiting to happen. There are contingency plans, written out in various forms, and backed up across six different systems. Jing Yuan doesn’t exactly derive pleasure from his current duties as general, but there is a satisfaction in knowing that he has ample safeguards in place and is confident in his own abilities to handle unexpected scenarios in stride.

Over the seven centuries that Jing Yuan has been the Divine Foresight, he has become used to the vigilance and protection the Luofu requires. The care he extends to the Luofu is... almost a burden. If he were less duty-bound, it would be.

The fact of the matter is that caring for you is not something he is duty-bound to do. He is not sworn and expected (beyond social convention) to be kind and caring to you. The careful, fledgling connection of something more vulnerable and adoring is his choice to have, keep, and hold. The softness that you share with him is just for him, and the care he provides to you is just for you.

He does not think that telling you this fact so simply will satisfy you.

Instead, he steeples his hands, sets his chin atop them and asks:

“Dear, why do you see caring for yourself as an innate burden?”

You freeze, like you’ve been struck under the belly of a storm. Like you’ve been caught.

“I don’t.”

“I’d implore you to reconsider. I do not know you to be a liar.”

“I— it’s not that simple.”

“It could be, couldn’t it?”

(If you were honest, like he knows will allow you to release the painful-looking tension wound in your shoulders. It would ease you.)

You stumble over your words, chew them, and look close to tears. Jing Yuan does not falter or waver, not yet, not yet—

“It should be my job, shouldn’t it?” You say softly, down, through the bowl, shooting the sentiment down towards the Luofu’s core engines. “I shouldn’t need anyone to look after me, especially not you. E-even if it would be nice. And I like when you do.”

Jing Yuan thinks about what you divulged in Lei Huiling’s exam room. Your lack of a proper pack, thin familial connection, infrequent scenting— It all paints a clear picture of someone who has taken every opportunity to bear their burdens alone.

(It makes sense, then, why you offered yourself up to be Jing Yuan’s heatmate without hesitation. You intimately know the suffering of a lonely heat and you didn’t want him to struggle in that way.)

“You are very capable, I can hardly think otherwise,” Jing Yuan itches to reach out for you, but not yet— “But, what if I want to care for you?”

“... You want to?”

“Yes, I would.”

“... Just during my heat?” You ask, looking up at him demurely. It’s a submissive gesture, one that clearly portrays this insecurity that you shoulder. “Or, after too?”

All of it.

“However you’ll have me.”

“That’s not an answer.”

“How would you have me, though?”

“All ways!” You sniffle and your eyes shine. You’re reaching your limit, close to cracking. “I like that you care for me, Jing Yuan. I just don’t want to cause you any trouble or make you feel like you need to.”

“That’s one of the reasons why I enjoy caring for you so much,” Jing Yuan confesses. Now, he reaches across the table and sweeps his wrist across your own. Your scents mingle. “Because, it is wholly my want and my choice to care for you.”

It all slots together for you then.

Your expression morphs first to one of relief, then intense sadness, followed by grief that makes your lip wobble. You are sharp, sharper than you seem often, and he knows that your own revelations hit you deep in the chest. Your warm scent goes to cloves and cinnamon and you look so, so sad.

Your bowl of dessert soup is forgotten as Jing Yuan ushers you into his lap, turned away from any passerbys, covered and protected from any potential, curious eyes.

“Do you believe me?” He asks, nosing at your neck to emulate a scenting. His touch is ginger and careful. He wouldn’t dare aggravate the ache there any further.

“I-I do.”

And he knows you do. He knows based on how you cup his jaw and barely resist kissing him on his lips. You’re too shy to in public; your eyes dart left and right to ascertain if it's a safe action. Jing Yuan makes the decision for you and presses a firm kiss on your forehead.

“I’m glad you understand.”

“Uh-huh,” your voice goes weepy and weak. It stirs something in him, an unnameable thing he doesn’t know what to call still, but its presence feels just as familiar as it is intriguing. “T-Thank you for being patient with me.”

“Of course.”

He considers his next course carefully, choosing indulgence in the end. It’s something you both need after today.

Jing Yuan ensures that you are nestled close to his chest, beneath the curve of his chin. He pushes the tip of his index against your lips. It rests on the seam. You make a sweet, confused noise in front of your mouth. Jing Yuan only hums in reply, bundling you up a little closer still. It’s not the best venue for this, but he has never been known for his propriety in casual settings anyway. You are more than hidden enough. Only the ochre and violet lily thickets will be witnesses.

He pushes his fingers into your mouth.

You startle, just barely, as Jing Yuan strokes your tongue with gentle motions. He watches how your lips part around his calloused fingers, how you shift your gaze from his eyes to his fingers, then to his eyes once more. It’s hopelessly endearing. Your trust is such a precious thing to covet, he only will treat you well.

Your eyelids droop a moment or two later, tears dripping from the corners of your eyes as he rubs the pads of his fingers along your gums, feeling the ridges of his teeth. Your scent still tinges with sickness but the blooming, plush quality of it is unmistakable.

“Is this alright?”

You nod, bashful.

He reminds you, “You may always tell me no or reject any advance, same as I can to you, understood?”

You nod again, cheeks warm as he thumbs over them. He knows you must know these things, but he wants to remind you. You do well with reassurance.

Pheromones are present in spit, just as they are in sweat and slick. The amounts differ per body fluid, but in your current state, your saliva is potent. The small amount that leaks from the side of your lips is fragrant, spinning the scent of you around him.

Jing Yuan allows himself to be content and a bit smitten.

He whispers to you, lips against your ear, “What will the people of the Luofu think, hm? Their General with an omega in his lap, toying with them in public.”

You look up at him hopelessly, but do not bite his fingers. You are so good, so so good.

Jing Yuan only pulls his fingers away when he notices the uptick in the pedestrian activity in the streets nearby. It’s rush hour, and the sun will set soon. As pulls his fingers from your mouth, drenched in spit (and your pheromonal musk that comes with it), you flush and tuck your face against his neck. He can feel the heat of you still, a reminder of what must be remedied and tended to.

You sense this as well, kissing his jaw fleetingly.

There will be more, he knows. Your heat will come sooner rather than later, and there will be ample time for hidden tenderness in the comfort of your nest (which he is sure will be a splendid thing to lounge about, should you permit him entry.) Desires will be sated, and Jing Yuan will, if allowed, wet his palette with the scent and feel of you. There will be time to enjoy you, and for him to be enjoyed by you once more. Jing Yuan does not know what you will ask of him explicitly, or what you will need, but he is happy to ample his way to understanding. Morsel by morsel, bite by bite, you yield to him as he does to you.

(You are no alpha to own him, he reminds himself. You lay no claim on him, his soul is untethered to yours, and the relief of that is immeasurable. The connection laid between you will be built in teeth and touch, but in a different way than the ones he was once so familiar with long ago.)

Jing Yuan finds himself almost eager to learn.

#lore writes #collab: spring fever #jing yuan x reader #jing yuan x you #hsr x reader #poking my head out of hiatus for with this offering :3c

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cloudedcreams · 3 months ago

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soft yandere oc (casper) x reader !!

𝜗𝜚⋆₊˚ “i haven’t done anything wrong, have i?” he asked, his head tilted towards you. you met his gaze with a slight apprehension, shaking your head.

you hadn’t known him for long by this point. it had been a few days so far, and you assumed he was referring to your silence. you spoke to him sometimes, maybe when asking him for small favours or a question or two, but you never took the care to make an actual conversation between the two of you.

“there it is again, your lack of interest. is there anything i can do to keep you more engaged, dove?” he said, sighing as his hands came to a halt. he was sorting your hair into braids, and weaving white ribbons between them, but he paused his motions as he stopped.

you looked up at him, and cleared your throat before speaking.

“well… i’m not sure what to say. it’s not that i’m not curious or whatever it is you want me to be, i’m just fine with us staying as we are.”

he nodded, continuing to plait your hair.

“well i’m contented for the two of us to stay in silent. i wanted to make sure the two of us were on the same page, that’s all.

after all, what more could i ask other than for you to sit still and stay pretty? you’re committing to your role perfectly.”

his words sent a slight unease through your spine. you debated them for a moment, before bringing yourself to question them.

“my role? what is my role..? is it the reason that i’m here casper?”

he let out a slight shiver at the sound of you saying his name, before a small smile graced itself upon his lips.

“you’re my doll, aren’t you? whether you decide to speak or not, you’re mine to do what i please with. any objections you have towards the matter aren’t of relevance, dear.” he said.

you couldn’t find it in yourself to respond, giving him a small hum as you continued to sit in silence. he tutted approvingly, and the two of you. continued your peace in quietude. 𐙚🧸ྀི

#reader insert #yandere #yandere oc #stalker yandere #yandere x you #unhealthy relationships #yandere x darling #yandere x reader #yandere x y/n #yan blog #soft yandere #yandere male #yande.re #yan boy #yancore #yanblr

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chuluoyi · 1 year ago

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UNHOLY MATRIMONY — 12

✩°｡ ⋆ the most twisted curse

- fushiguro megumi x oc/reader - oc/reader's character name is hara sena, pronouns still refer to “you” and i won’t mention it often—just for the sake of aesthetic rather than repeatedly writing "y/n"

in another life, in which fate is still screwing his life over, Fushiguro Megumi finds himself in an arranged marriage―with you.

genre/warnings: arranged marriage au, drama, heavy angst, description of major injury and blood, hurt/comfort (or no comfort?), there is one fluff scene! :))

notes: next chapter will be the last <3

series masterlist | next. seize your happiness

Megumi stopped in his tracks in horror.

Blood. There was so much blood. It was everywhere, painting everything in angry scarlet―

And you. In the middle of it.

"Sena..." The pounding of his heart was deafening, drowning anything else. It started from his hands, and slowly but unmistakably, his entire body began to tremble with terror— "Sena!"

He was late. When he arrived to the Zen’in mansion, everything was in shambles. The disciplinary chamber reeked of blood and destruction, Naoya’s pallid corpse and—

He quickly made his way to where you were, and felt his throat closing in.

Your face was battered and bruised, your lips were torn and blood streamed down your torso as if it were a cascading waterfall. Your right leg was twisted into an unnatural angle, and everything else was simply—

You looked absolutely broken.

"Damn it, fuck—"

With panic seeping in, Megumi couldn't think straight. He brought you to his arms, and with the movement, he could feel the stickiness of your blood staining him, the stench filling his lungs, and he almost wheezed as a result.

“You… why…” the hands that were holding you trembled, both with fear and genuine fury.

Fear, because he was losing you with each second he wasn’t able to get you to the help faster. Fury, because he had left you so unprotected that you ended up in this state.

It was more towards himself. All things prior this day be damned. Megumi hated himself with each second. He would be able to stand against Naoya, and in case he couldn’t then he still had his final card through Mahoraga, but you?

You couldn’t go against him and he didn’t mean it in belittling way. Naoya was known for his speed and offensive prowess, and you weren’t built for that. He would totally wreck you first before you could unleash your fatal technique—which he assumed what happened since you were able to take him out in the end.

But that didn’t matter anymore. Not when you were dying like this, before Megumi was able to say anything to you.

Last time he saw you, you were crying for him not to go. He tried many times to banish that image away from his mind because it was so vivid. He remembered how sobs wracked your body as he left you with the most hurtful parting words:

“It’s done. We’re done. I don’t want to see you ever again.”

It was almost like a curse. He really never saw you again before now. And now, he wasn’t even sure if you were still alive at all.

No, that was indeed a curse.

The voice in his mind whispered many things he tried to mute the past few weeks. He had cursed you—and perhaps, himself too—and now he was left with the consequences.

“No, no...” he said in a broken whisper as he had a look over your state. "I'm begging you—"

In his arms was the only girl he had loved. He never wanted any harm to come to you, despite everything that had gone down. That decision to pull out the divorce papers too—a part of him had hoped that with cutting all ties with you, it would free you from all of this mess too.

“Hang in there—!”

But you weren’t responsive at all. He couldn’t even feel you breathing. He felt like picking up a doll, a destroyed one, with the way your head lolled lifelessly in his arms.

Megumi didn’t really know what was worse—the guilt or the pain in his chest. But he kept trekking forward even as the his eyes burned with tears, with your bloodied form in his hold.

Because for all he knew, no matter what happened onwards, his world had ended right where you were.

When he handed you over to the emergency room, he was struck once more by just how vividly red everything was.

His hands, arm, and shirt were drenched in your blood. Megumi stood numbly before the sliding doors, ears still ringing from Ieiri Shoko’s harsh barks to her assistants, the sight of you being taken away again beyond the door left a burning sensation in his throat.

You had shed so much blood, would you still pull through?

He didn’t know how much time had passed since he brought you here. It felt like a long of time, and he knew it to be true when Gojo arrived at Shoko's clinic with the sun already dipping low on the horizon. He didn’t know why though, perhaps his longtime friend was the one contacting him.

“Megumi, are you okay?” he immediately asked upon seeing him on sight, slumped with his head low. He grabbed his shoulder, turning him to face him directly.

Megumi looked up to his former mentor slowly, almost as if he was paralyzed. Eyes empty, with your blood still covering him—he hadn't made any attempt to wash it off.

“Megumi, come on. You have to clean yourself—”

“Gojo-sensei…” he suddenly croaked, throat dry. “I have to be here…”

“Go wash yourself first—”

Those words were the tipping point. His pent-up fury suddenly exploded at that moment—

“Get off me!”

Megumi pushed him away with such strength that Gojo nearly fell onto his backside, only managing to stay upright because of his good reflexes.

"Why does it matter to you?" Megumi spat out, anger seething between his clenched teeth. "How can I possibly think about cleaning up when—when, she’s i-inside… and I can't even tell if she's still alive or not?!”

“Megumi—”

“Why… why do you have to agree to that binding vow?” right now Megumi just wanted to blame anything—anyone, everyone, this accursed world, and even himself. The burning in his chest was scalding, making his voice tight with emotion. “Why do you agree to something that could make her put her life in danger?!”

“...”

"Why! Just why!" The tears he'd been holding back finally broke free, cascading down his cheeks as he let out a howl that echoed through the deserted hospital corridor.

Gojo could only stare at him in silence, pondering the irony of the situation. You, who wanted to end everything out of your love for him, and Megumi, who wanted to cut you out of this mess and never wanted you to be involved in the first place. Both of you meant the best for each other—protecting each other through your own ways.

Gojo wouldn't be able to go against any of Megumi's wishes from now on. Because once again, he knew what it was.

How love is the most twisted curse of all.

You... are always so pretty.

In your sorcerer's uniform. In the morning when you just woke up. The night you cried.

In each and every image Megumi had of you, you were always beautiful. But there was one poignant sight that stood out, where you were most breathtaking... and that was during your wedding day.

You were the very picture of a dream bride. Wrapped in that white silk kimono, brushed by the traditional make up and hairdo—he could've sworn he had never seen anyone so stunning before you in his entire life. And the fact that you had appeared out of nowhere in his life one day, only to become his bride, filled him with even greater wonder.

You were beautiful then... but there was something about you he didn't quite like still.

You appeared ashen, almost as though you were ill. You looked like someone would hound you if you weren't there. And above all, you looked unhappy.

—which was hauntingly similar to your appearance now. Beneath the pristine, unblemished hospital blanket, you looked exceedingly pale and lifeless, with the beeping of the machine serving as the only assurance he had that you were still here.

You appeared as though you were merely sleeping, but when he reached out to grasp your hand in his, it felt chillingly cold. It didn't feel like you—an eerie sensation as foreign as the stab of pain he felt in his chest.

"Hey..." his voice came out in a faint whisper as his eyes quietly looked you over. "Are you... still there?"

Beep… Beep… Beep…

"You're not in pain anymore... right?" he asked into the empty, thin air.

It was cruel to him that you looked absolutely at peace, with how your eyes tightly shut and your eyelashes not even once fluttered. If this was your way of punishing him for leaving you, then it was incredibly, irrevocably cruel.

But you wouldn't. Megumi knew you wouldn't. Because you trusted him, until the very end. Even when he left.

He gritted his teeth, feeling his heart break once again. "If you're there... then please... just wake up."

Beep... Beep... Beep...

"...I'm sorry. I'm sorry for leaving you—I'm sorry... for..."

Beep... Beep... Beep...

"—for letting you get hurt..."

Beep... Beep... Beep...

"You... shouldn't. But why—you—" The lump in his throat choked off his words. "...damn—"

Beep... Beep... Beep...

"I love you."

He pushed through to utter those words, a tear trailing down his cheek, because in that moment, he truly didn't know what else there was to say.

"I love you... so please... just wake up already. I want to say sorry—and that this time for sure... I won't leave you ever again. I will protect you... I w-will... protect you with everything I've got, so just—!"

It hurts so much. Seeing you like this, not responding to anything he said. You were just there, suspended between life and death, and he couldn't do anything about it.

And so, in that hollow, silent hospital room, he released all his cries, hopelessness, and regrets— with no one there to witness his anguish.

Upon learning what had happened, Hana's immediate instinct was to reach Megumi's side.

She dashed through the bustling hospital corridors, disregarding anything and everything in her way—even when she bumped into people, she only muttered a brisk apology and went on her way.

She didn't really know what she was looking for. Her naivety merely spurred her to search for him. It didn't really register to her that you were hurt to the point of possibly dying. For one, she just couldn't really believe it was from the warning you left her, and another part of her was overwhelmed with fear at the thought of Megumi venturing into that barred area.

"Aww, don't trip, miss."

Hana halted on the spot, quickly turning her head towards the source—and came the second most shocking event that happened to her today.

Everyone knows this person. The pinnacle of jujutsu society. Someone so elusive and jarring that it was a wonder that he took in a disgraced Zen'in in the first place.

Gojo Satoru's lips curled into a crude smile. "No one inside is going anywhere you know. Might be better if you slow down and catch your breath."

"Where's Megumi?" she asked almost immediately, and yet to her surprise, he only chuckled.

"He's absolutely fine, you know. Anyone hearing will mistake him for being the one in a near-death situation."

So it's true. You didn't seem to be faring well at all. "Did you see him just now?"

"Ha." Gojo let out a snort. "Miss, are you really sure you want to see him right now?"

Okay, even Hana couldn't pretend to be amiable anymore. Gojo really and truly lived up to his outrageous reputation of being a public annoyance. "What are you trying to say? I'm just worried for him. Where is he?"

"He's inside, here." he gestured towards the door next to him with a tilt of his chin. "But honestly, I'd recommend you not go in."

"And why should I listen to you?"

"Because I know things best? Heh."

Hana wasn't having this any longer. He went past Gojo and turned the knob open, stalking inside—

And then, suddenly, she felt numb.

Megumi was asleep in an uncomfortable position at the edge of your bed—his face marked by dried tears, and his grip tight around your hand. Once again, Kurusu Hana felt her heart sink, reminiscent of the first day she encountered him in that small café, seeing him dragging you by your hand.

Deep down, she knew it. That it's stupid to hope for more—to hope for your marriage to utterly fail to make space for her in his life.

...because no matter how, even when everything crumbled into dust, she never really stood a chance, did she?

"Megumi! Show me your rabbits!"

He looked at you with a raised eyebrow. On one night after he just went back from work, all he wanted was to have a rest, not using more cursed energy. "For what?"

You pouted. "They're cute, I want to play with them!"

"...no. I'm tired."

"You..." you widened your eyes in surprise. "It's me! Your very dutiful wife, how can you not fulfill her wish?!"

"Dutiful? Nah. I can think of 10 instances in which you are anything but obedient."

There was something about you pleading with him that made his heart soft. He was a goner the very moment you pursed your lips. But messing with you always brought a smile to his face, and for the sake of teasing, he declined you. At least, until you turned away from him with an indignant "Hmph!"

Megumi let out a small chuckle. "Look here."

"Don't want to!"

"Oh? You won't see them then."

You quickly snapped your head back towards him, and right before you—voila!—there appeared a swarm of his rabbits.

"Whoa!" your eyes shone with excitement, like a kid. "Whoa, whoa! Come here! Cute rabbits, come to meee~"

And in that moment, as his chest swelled with warmth, he thought that if all it took to see your smile was to conjure rabbits, then he was willing to do just that for the rest of his life.

. . .

Megumi woke up with a jerk.

The first sensation he registered was the coldness of his feet. Following that realization, it hit him—there were no rabbits, none of your smile, he was in your room, and the coolness from your hand still clung to his skin.

He glanced over at you, and his heart bled once more.

You still looked as serene as before.

You had a nostalgic dream.

Everything you saw in those fragmented scenes were your real memories. Your childhood. Grimmer days you'd much prefer to keep away.

You were never the favored child, and your mother—a mistress—was in a less favorable situation.

It was always the same routine that you didn't really feel hurt anymore. Your stepsisters were born entitled—they never really treated you that kindly, and with your father being the passive being he was, you never really tried to voice your grievance.

"Mama, when will we move out of here?" you inquired one day, your head resting in her lap while she gently stroked your hair. You were barely fourteen back then, still struggling with newfound knowledge of curses and how they exist in your already muddled world.

Your only friend, your only supporter who made everything bearable—who taught you love... was your mother, who loved you with everything she had.

"Hmm? Do you not like it here?" she asked you with a small smile, as if to encourage you to elaborate more.

"I hate it here," you stressed, biting your lower lip. "Everything is cursed."

"Hush, Sena! You have to be careful with your words."

You looked away, not really guilty though. You might not be able to bash your shitty father, but you could definitely curse some things.

"Are you happy living like this, Mama?" you found yourself asking, feeling a wave of sadness wash over you. It seemed so unjust that you and your mother were treated as lesser individuals on a daily basis. Why did you have to endure this fate?

"Me?" she seemed to ponder a bit before nodding. "Of course. You're here, of course I'm happy."

"Even when they are awful to us?"

"Mm-hmm. Don't pay them any mind. Being here is better then out there."

"I don't think so. I think out there is most likely far better than this."

Your mother didn't answer, but she kept her thin smile, still combing her hands through your hair fondly.

At that stage in your life, you believed your mother had simply resigned herself to her circumstances. She needed the Hara clan to survive, and you too as much as you wanted to deny it—a fact that irritated you to some degree.

It would take many years and much reflection for you to understand that the bigger part that played in her decision to stay, enduring all the unpleasantness that came with being a mistress, was for your sake—to give you the best.

"One day," your voice was a little louder than a whisper, but carried a certain resolve that your mother couldn't help but notice. "I'll take both of us away from this hellhole, and only then will we truly be happy."

You really thought she'd finally drop the facade and go along with your idea, so her rebuke left you speechless. "No," she said firmly.

"Why?!"

"That must not be your only goal in life, Sena," her smile faded. "You... need to have other plans, not just to escape from here and then be left with nothing afterwards."

"But—!"

"Maybe you're too young to understand this, but please always keep this in mind, from now onwards," your mother sighed softly. "You... must not live your life for me. You need to be your own person. And most importantly, you can't turn out like me."

"Mama, you're—" you shot up into a sitting position. "Why—"

"You have to lead a better life than me." Her smile returned as she spoke her next words. "Freer. Happier. With more love. When the time comes when you can freely choose how you want to live your life, I want you to use that chance to the fullest."

You didn't really understand. Not really, back then.

But now...

“I want you to chase after what makes you happy the most. Seize your happiness.” She was impossibly gentle that it brought tears to your eyes. “In whatever form it might be, regardless of how I am in that moment, please choose only for yourself.”

Seize your happiness… now that you thought about it. It finally made sense.

When your father was about to sell you off to Naoya, your mother tried so many ways to ward you off. She wanted to remove the obstacle for you—namely herself, with fervent hope you would be free even when she had to be stuck in that hell you called home.

And so, now… is this finally the chance for you to chase after your happiness? But how? What does ‘happiness’ mean to you now that you were left with nothing and that even Megumi hates you?

Still those three words resonated deep within you. If they said that curses are born of human’s strong emotions, then most likely your mother too could manifest a curse. She wanted you to live.

. . .

Against all odds out there, finally—

You blinked your eyes open slowly.

And the first thing that entered your eyesight is —

next : seize your happiness

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