#posting it here as well for the 2 other people that care about these two | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

jeonstudios · 22 days ago

Text

fontana di trevi | 01

you seek out a vampire to help you with something.

pairing: vampire!jk x sadgirl, blood donor!reader

genre: vampire au, angst, fluff (really a sadgirl fic lol)

word count: 7.6k

warnings: blood, needles, talking about how you euthanize cows and such? suicidal thoughts (not graphic or elaborated? very straightforward?)

rating: NC-17 – Adults Only

masterlist

part 1/2

It’s a freezing cold December night when you step into the dark alleyway, your thighs having gone numb under your jeans a while ago. The sun set hours ago, and the only light present is that of a few scattered streetlights.

Your pulse quickens as you take another cautious step. Something moves further in, where the light barely reaches, and since there’s no snow yet, you hear the slight crunch of frozen fall leaves under… footsteps. From the dark, a tall figure approaches slowly in a way that would have anyone’s blood chilling.

“I have a proposition,” you state, trying to stand somewhat tall.

"A proposition?” a low voice inquires, and you have to tilt your head up to look at the face that emerges from the shadows. “I’ll fuck you, but I’m not turning you for sex.”

“That’s not what—I don’t want sex or to be turned.”

He directs his full attention to you, and in turn, you get a better glimpse of his features. He looks like a man; incredibly handsome with jet black hair, eyebrows, and eyes, but his skin is paler than anything you’ve seen, and there’s the tiniest smudge of something red tinting the corner of his mouth. Though his eyebrow is raised, he doesn’t look very entertained.

“You can have my blood. All of it, if you just take it quickly.”

He lifts his hand to slowly wipe the red from his face. The outfit he wears—a black leather jacket and black pants—looks human but is definitely too cold to wear this time of year.

“What makes you think I wouldn’t simply take it if I wanted to? Why would I need your permission?”

“I’m just saying. Take it if you want it?”

He looks at you, seemingly at least a little intrigued by the odd human in front of him. You definitely understand that most people run the other way at the sight of this big, intimidating being.

“You realize ‘all of it’ means you’ll be dead, right?”

You nod. “Do we have a deal?”

“Regardless of if I wanted to or not, I literally just… ate, so I physically can’t. Not for another week or so.”

You feel your shoulders drop slightly, and you blink, trying to improvise a plan.

“Okay, well… Do you want to meet here in a week, then?”

At that, he tilts his head. “You want to die here, in a dirty alleyway?”

“I don’t care. So yes or no?”

“If you want me to do this, give me something in return first, okay?”

You look at him in confusion. “You’re getting my blood?”

“Who's to say your blood is even good?”

Trying not to let his words discourage you, you look around, thinking. Maybe you should’ve played harder to get? At least in the sense of giving him a hunt? You don’t want to waste any time, but he might not be your best option.

“Fine, do you know if there are other vampires around here? How do I find them?”

It took you three weeks to even find this one, and maybe it was more luck than anything, so setting off on another search doesn’t sound too exciting. These creatures really do live in the shadows.

“No, listen. Whether your blood is delicious or not, it would certainly be helpful to have it. But…”

“But?”

“Let me stock up on it first. Meet me at my place and let me take some every week for two months and then I’ll take the rest.”

You look around again, unsure if you should just try to find someone else. Two months is not ideal; it’s too long, and you’re sure you could manage to find someone else in the meantime.

The vampire senses your hesitation and takes a step closer.

“You want it to be quick, which means you’re scared of pain. People around here, my kind, tend to drag it out. Pain and fear equal adrenalin, which gives the blood a certain… flavor that some enjoy. Agree to my compromise, and I’ll make it quick and practically painless.”

He gives you the smallest of smiles, barely a hint of one, but it feels wicked and makes a cold shiver run down your spine. You know he’s not trustworthy, but he’s getting a lot out of the deal, and you have nothing to lose, really.

“Okay. What’s the address?”

In the middle of the day a week later, you find yourself in front of a big two-story house. It’s nice, looks pretty expensive but… like a regular house? It’s painted white and definitely not blood-red or even black. Aligning more with your expectations is how the house is partially obscured from the road by huge, towering spruces and how it seems to lie just a little bit further from the neighboring houses. There’s a thin layer of snow on the ground now, but you’re not sure whether it’ll stick.

After confirming that no, there is no door bell, you lift your fist to knock on the door. Vampires have crazy good hearing anyway, right? You’d assume so, given the fact that they’re always portrayed as super fast, super strong, super… attractive, and with super hearing, super vision, just… super all around. The mythical creatures don’t officially exist to the world, but in your little town, everyone knows they do. And they do. You found one. So if they drink blood and are super attractive—at least this one—it’s not too weird to assume there’s more truth to their pop-culture portrayal.

You can see how the town’s vampire believers and enthusiasts shake their heads in disappointment at your relative indifference, but truth be told, you’d probably be more curious about the vampire whose home you’re about to step into if the situation was different. Or maybe you’d have some self-preservation and run the other way?

The door opens almost soundlessly, and when you look up, you meet those black, bottomless eyes. It really is his color, you think, your gaze drawn to the short-sleeve, black button-down he’s wearing, the top three buttons or so left undone. With it, he’s wearing black pants on the looser side. He looks incredibly handsome, and very effortlessly so. His hair is shiny and looks soft, and like it naturally falls into that slight side-part.

“Are you gonna come in or just stand there and ogle me?” He isn’t smiling teasingly; he just looks at you, unimpressed.

“Sorry.”

He turns to retreat back into the house, and you’re left to enter through the open door. There are no lights on inside, and when you close the door behind you, cutting off a majority of the daylight, you start to feel like you’re truly inside a vampire’s home. Still, it’s light enough for you to follow said vampire’s back after hastily removing your coat and folding it to leave over the boots you step out of. Since you assumed he needs access to the veins in your arms, you picked out a gray t-shirt and a black zip-up hoodie that’s a little too big on you, paired with jeans. Nothing fancy—you’re not there to impress him.

With quickened steps, you catch up to him as he wordlessly leads the way into his kitchen, a place you doubt he uses much. Vampires don’t actually eat, do they? Either way, the room is clean and feels almost... sterile, despite the walnut cupboards and dark gray countertops.

On the short end of a wide, matching walnut dining table, a bunch of supplies are laid out. He gestures to one of the two chairs positioned around the corner of the table, but as you sit down, he turns to leave.

“Uhm, I don’t know how to do this,” you admit, pulling the zipper of your hoodie down and slipping one arm out. “I mean, I’m sure it can’t be that complicated in… theory, but I don’t think I can do it on myself.”

“I’m just gonna wash my hands,” he explains, and there seems to be a very slight trace of emotion in his voice and on his face that you interpret as amusement. He thinks you're dumb.

Oh. Well… does it really matter if his hands are squeaky clean or not?

Water hits the sink with a familiar sound as you focus on the table, inspecting the supplies. There’s a needle with a tube attached to it, a tourniquet, some syringes, antiseptic wipes, and a few empty blood bags. A voice in your head wonders if maybe he changed his mind and will simply take everything at this moment because those bags look pretty big, and you’re not sure you can fill them and still walk out of this place.

The water stops, and you sit pretty and wait until he positions the other chair in front of you, a little to the side. You’ve never been a fan of needles or having your blood drawn, so you focus your eyes the other way, to a specific part of his kitchen window and the overcast outside. You hear the sound of paper and plastic ripping, and you feel his cold fingers place and tighten the tourniquet around your upper arm and feel for your veins before he wipes the area clean.

“Scared of needles?” he teases arrogantly, and you see how he reaches for the sharp object on the table.

“Bodily reaction. I can’t help it,” you explain before holding your breath and waiting for the poke.

It comes soon after; an uncomfortable but not too painful prick. With one hand, he moves some things around on the table, and you try to keep as still as possible, loathing the feeling of a needle jolting around in your vein.

“You’re not curious as to why I know how to do this stuff? Or worried that I don’t?” he wonders, releasing the tourniquet and seemingly fastening the needle to your skin with some tape.

“No. I guess it doesn’t surprise me; blood and vampires seem to go hand in hand.”

He surprises you by letting out a quiet chuckle before placing a red stress ball in your hand. “Squeeze this. I’ll be back to change the bag in a few minutes.”

Nodding, you watch him rise from his chair and leave the room.

Left to your own devices and with the filling blood bag taped to the chair’s armrest by its thin tube, you close your eyes.

The house is entirely silent, and you have no idea where the vampire went. After he moved the stuff around on the table, you were able to count exactly three blood bags with a printed 450 ml on them. That adds up to somewhere between one and one and half liters and around 30% of your blood volume if you’ve calculated correctly. According to your brief research, a human doesn’t typically survive losing more than 40% of their blood unless given emergency medical attention. You probably won’t feel too great after today, but you most likely won’t die. You think.

Slowly, the minutes start to tick by, but you feel okay so far. You’ve got a good rhythm going for the stress ball, squeezing, holding, releasing. Squeezing, holding, releasing. The silence has your mind wandering.

“You can stop for a bit.”

The vampire’s sudden voice has your eyes flying open. He hadn’t made a single sound, returning to the kitchen. Catching your breath, you nod, keeping the ball still in your hand. You don’t look at the needle in your arm, but you see the bag full of dark red that the vampire sits down and trades for an empty one, attaching the tubes before he fastens them in the same way to the armrest.

When he’s done, he lifts his hand, and you spot one of his fingertips covered in red. For a split second, he observes it, and then he puts the finger to his tongue. At first, it’s weird to see, and you almost want to tell him that it’s not hygienic to taste other people’s blood. That is before you remember that other people’s blood is what sustains him.

He looks to be assessing something, and suddenly, you’re worried he might not like it.

“B positive," he focuses on you, but you give him a slight, confused shrug because you have no idea what blood type you are or what it means in this context.

“Is that… okay?”

“It’s… meh. Not the most common but also not the rarest. Most of my kind prefer A or even AB, though.”

“Oh."

Of course, your blood is substandard. You nod toward the filled bag on the table. “Will you have any use for this then?”

Truly, it would be just your luck to not even have the scary creatures, who roam the night in search of victims to drain, want your blood.

“Yeah. Doesn’t matter. I can always use it as a backup if I don’t get the chance to feed in time. Squeeze.”

Per his order, you resume squeezing. The rest of the process goes relatively smoothly, although you’ve started feeling a lot… weaker by the time the second bag is full and the vampire is about to switch it for the third.

There’s a lot about blood and the human body that you don’t know, and you’re silently wondering what the recovery rate is and if you can really give him this much every week. Does he plan on taking less next time or has he not taken it into consideration?

“Why do you want to die?”

You blink at his bluntness, looking at his uncaring face. He obviously doesn’t care to hear the longer story, and you don’t care to tell it, so you settle for a shorter, more condensed version.

“There’s something wrong with me. I don’t belong here.”

“Didn’t taste like it.”

“Maybe not physically.”

He doesn’t dig further, but when your blood starts trickling into the third bag, the vampire stays seated. You still close your eyes, afraid that you’ll stare at his face otherwise, and he didn’t particularly seem to like that.

You’re not sure if it’s just the blood loss or a combination of having slept poorly for the last few weeks and being in a calm, silent environment, but you’re feeling tired. Really tired. And cold.

“Squeeze harder,” his voice instructs, void of emotion. You do your best to follow his instructions, squeezing the ball tighter even though it’s getting difficult.

“We’re done.”

You open your eyes, finding the vampire much closer than before and his fingers swiftly removing the needle from your arm.

“Okay, so… uh…” you start, finding it hard to choose words or even think of what you want to convey in the first place. “Do I come back… same time… next week?”

“No. Make it two weeks.”

You look at him, confusion written across your features, but it’s hard to focus your eyes on his face. It’s blurry, and there are dark spots infiltrating your vision.

“I took as much as I could, and while you won’t have time to replenish everything in two weeks either, I’ll at least get more out of you than in just one week.”

He smiles, and if you had the energy and maybe (mostly) the common sense, you’d be scared by the way he truly looks so wicked.

“Okay. I’ll see you then.”

The vampire takes the stress ball from you and rises from the chair with the used supplies in his hands. You grip the armrests best you can, but your right hand slips, and you stumble a little, trying to stand. It’s so incredibly cold, and you feel dizzy, nauseous, and weak, putting your hoodie back on properly.

Very quietly, you hear him move around the kitchen, and while he hasn’t explicitly told you to leave, you’re very much assuming he wants nothing else. So on unsteady legs, you make your way back to the front door, where you grab your coat to haphazardly put it on, and you step into your boots, unable to bend down to tie them properly.

You’re able to make it to your old but trustworthy car that you parked on the street, but when you sit down in the driver’s seat and close the door behind you, you realize that you definitely can’t drive as it’s proving more and more difficult to even keep your eyes open. You can’t walk home, you have no one to come pick you up, and even if there probably is a bus stop somewhere around here, you don’t think you’d make it there.

So with your last burst of energy, you pull the lever under the seat to push it back a little, leaving your boots on the floor as you bring your feet and knees up. Your coat finds a new purpose as a makeshift blanket, and you cover as much of your body as you can with it. Fully knowing that as you close your eyes, you might never open them again, you don’t care that much. Dying is what you want, anyway.

Surprisingly, you do open your eyes again. It’s dark when you do, and it’s so, so cold. Your heart is beating hard as it tries to circulate blood that just isn’t there anymore, and it’s with a low groan that you move, trying to reach for the phone in the pocket of your coat.

It’s seven p.m.. You met with the vampire at two p.m., and the visit took less than an hour, which means that you got into your car at maybe a bit before three, and so you’ve been passed out for four hours. It takes you a while to come to properly, and even when you do, you feel weak, groggy, and stiff. Ideally, you shouldn’t drive, but you have no other means of getting home, so you decide on a route consisting of smaller roads with lower speed limits and less traffic.

It’s no wonder you feel like you’re on death’s doorstep because when you do some further Googling on blood donation and blood volumes at home, you calculate exactly how much someone of your size would have. And you find that the vampire took 38% of that.

Three weeks later, you’re knocking on his door again. He opens it, an eyebrow raised and looking even more unimpressed than last time.

“I’m sorry I didn’t show last week, but I was sick,” you inform, hoping he’ll accept your apology. “Didn’t think you would’ve wanted to see… that.”

“You’re right.”

That’s all he says before he turns, leaving the door open for you just like last time. Well, you take that as a sign that you’re forgiven, and so you follow him inside.

Trying to keep up with him, you’re feeling even smaller and weaker around the tall vampire than before, and truth be told, you are. Because according to those Google searches, while it takes the body only approximately 24-48 hours to replace the blood plasma, it takes four to six weeks to replenish the red blood cells and recover fully. And that’s from having one bag of 450ml donated; you left three and it’s only been three weeks since. Essentially, the vampire is taking your blood a lot faster than you can produce it.

Like last time, you sit down on the same chair in his kitchen, but since he wasn’t expecting you, he has to retrieve the supplies from elsewhere. You remain quiet while he organizes everything, stealing a few glances at him in the meantime. This time, he’s wearing a black t-shirt and black shorts, and you’re amazed at just how… ordinary he looks. In the best way possible, of course.

Without being too tight, the shirt does a very good job at showing off his physique: it hangs wonderfully off his shoulders and dips slightly between his pecs. It exposes the prominent veins stretching across both his arms and hands, and you wonder if vampires also ‘live’ in the way that he has a heart that pumps blood around his body. Or if he’s really ‘dead’ or ‘undead’ like some media describe them?

“What?” he questions, having caught you staring.

“You look very human,” you say quietly. “Like a college guy.”

An athletic college guy. The one who’s just a little too handsome to be exact.

The trace of amusement that flashes across his face is so faint that you’re not sure you didn’t simply imagine it. He doesn’t respond to your observation, only sitting down and reaching for your arm. His large hands feel a little warmer against your skin than you remember them doing last time, and you turn your head when he prepares the needle. There’s a pinch and then the immediate relief when he loosens the tourniquet.

“Here,” the red stress ball is placed into your hand again. Looking down briefly, you watch your own hand squeeze it, but the red fluid flowing through the transparent tube is too off-putting, and so you close your eyes again.

A minute or so passes while you keep squeezing the ball to some sort of rhythm tied to your breaths. It won’t be long. Soon, everything will be over.

Somewhere, you lose track of time, and to regain some sense of reality, you flutter your eyelids open. Only to see the vampire stare coldly at you. You freeze.

“I thought you left,” you admit, the surprise clear in your voice.

“I’m keeping an eye on you,” he explains, face still stoic.

You look at him dumbly. “No offense, but why? The point is to kill me, anyway?”

“No, it’s to take as much as possible,” he corrects you. “To a reasonable extent. And then kill you. Here, let me change the bag.”

You close your eyes once more as he switches the full bag to a new, empty one. The dizziness comes a lot quicker than it did three weeks ago, but then again, you’ve been feeling more or less weak and faint ever since that first donation.

“Okay, we’re done.”

You look at him, surprised. “Already? But you didn’t even fill the second bag fully?”

“I took too much last time, and like I said, I want to get as much out of you as possible.”

For the first time, you think you see a hint of a discreet fang when he gives you a blood-chilling smile.

The process of removing everything is quick, and before you know it, you’re putting your feet into your boots again. You feel faint, like your knees might buckle under you any second, but you don’t feel weak to the point of passing out for hours in your car; you do that when you’re home in bed instead.

Suffering from what you gather is immense anemia, you don’t have the energy to really do anything between your visits to the vampire besides lie on the couch and watch TV. You quit your retail job the Monday after finding him in that alleyway, confident (and correctly so) that you wouldn’t be able to handle really any job at all.

Even rotting away on the couch with your eyes glued to the screen, you can barely understand what the shows are about. Your brain struggles to place the people and remember the plot lines, and you find yourself almost daydreaming instead. Though it’s mostly just flashing images of the vampire whose name you still don’t know.

If your heart wasn’t already so strained, it would beat harder for him in some kind of fear-filled attraction. He’s absolutely gorgeous—and there’s definitely something almost drawing you to him—but he’s also so, so intimidating. If the end goal wasn’t to die, you’d for sure be running for the hills and looking over your shoulder late at night.

Next time, there’s a slight smile pulling on the vampire’s lips when he opens the door.

“Still alive?”

You chuckle quietly, looking down at your boots. “Unfortunately.”

Taking off your coat reveals another simple outfit with no other purpose than granting the vampire access to your arms while keeping your freezing body warm. This time, it’s a thick, brown cardigan over a t-shirt, paired with somewhat baggy jeans.

The contrast between your clothes is almost funny. Even indoors, you’d be freezing in the half-open thin, white dress shirt he wears messily tucked into black, also thin-looking slacks. The gap in his shirt makes you want to reach out and touch his pale chest, but of course, you keep your hands to yourself.

Once again, you follow him inside, and while you don’t need him to, he guides you to the same spot in his kitchen where the stuff is all laid out.

Sitting down, you slip your arm out of the cardigan and place it on the armrest. The vampire washes his hands and then comes to sit down in front of you, reaching for the tourniquet to position it around your bicep. With the elastic band tightened, he rips open an antiseptic wipe to clean the inside of your elbow, and then, he prepares the needle like always.

You look away, holding your breath until the pinch comes and for a few seconds after.

“The whole thing about vampires losing control around blood… I take it that’s just storytelling?”

“Depends,” he answers, and despite not looking at him, you just know he’s got one eyebrow raised and a hint of a cocky smile on his lips. “If we’re hungry and someone happens to bleed around us, yeah, it can be more… tempting. Also depends on what sort of blood we prefer.”

“And you don’t like mine,” you state, your foggy brain concluding it the reason he seems to not care about the vulnerable blood right in front of him.

He laughs this time, a really nice sound that has your strained heart almost skipping an important beat. “I changed my weekly feeding to Thursdays, so I’m still quite full. And your blood isn’t vile, it’s just not what I personally go crazy for.”

“Oh,” you let out, looking at him before something dawns on you. “Wait. You eat once a week only? How much do you eat then? Or… drink?”

He nods toward the bag he just secured to your arm. “Someone of my size typically only needs about two of these a week to survive and not maniacally hunt and kill, but to really thrive? Between two and three liters, so four to six bags. I usually go hunting Friday or Saturday night when most bars and pubs are full. It’s surprisingly easy to find a few drunks stumbling around who won’t even realize what happened the day after.”

“So you don’t… kill?”

“Not if we can help it. There’s been… an increase in vampires around here, and if people drop dead? No, it’s less suspicious and only a little more work to find a few victims instead of draining one dry.”

“Makes sense.”

“Mhm. I typically don’t have to beg women to come with me, either.”

Something ice cold travels through your body at that last sentence. You wonder whose blood was on his lips that night when you found him.

“I can’t believe you’re telling me this, though? You seem like you’d tell me to mind my own business.”

Even more, you can’t believe you asked.

He smiles. “I don’t know. Like I said, people will occasionally find out what I am, find me fascinating, and ask a thousand questions. I’ve always thought it to be incredibly annoying, and I’m not really supposed to tell them anything even if I wanted to—which I don’t—but it’s been… odd, not being questioned by you. At all. Almost boring, like I’m not interesting to you.”

His answer surprises you, and for a moment, you imagine teenage you, not bubbly per se but at least a bit more naive than the current version. Would she be the type to annoy him? You don’t think so.

“Objectively, you are interesting, but I can’t believe how brave people are? If things were different, I wouldn’t have gone out looking for a vampire in the first place. And if I somehow stumbled upon you, I would’ve run the other way because you’d terrify me.”

Slowly, he smirks at your honesty.

“I scare you?”

You’d be lying if you claimed the cold, calculating aura around him didn’t.

You’re not sure if he has any super powers like in the movies, but honestly, he wouldn’t need to be able to lift a bus to kill you. The scariest thing about him isn’t how he could end your life in a hundred different ways either way, it’s how he could drag it out and extend your suffering before doing so. Of course, your body and instincts find him scary, but in a way, your mind… doesn’t? Then again, you’re here because your mind wants him to kill you.

“I don’t know.”

“Hm,” is all he says, his eyes falling to the blood bag. “I have to change it. Hold on.”

“Okay,” you mumble, finding it hard to concentrate. Your heart beats so hard it hurts, but at the same time, your breathing is slowing down. Closing your eyes, you feel him move stuff around.

“How are you feeling?” he suddenly asks, but it doesn’t sound like he cares too much.

“Honestly? Terrible,” you admit, keeping your eyes closed.

You keep still when you feel his hands on your arm, but then you hear a little… rip.

“Fuck.”

Curiously, you open your tired eyes, seeing the vampire hold the empty bag up to inspect it.

“This was the last one I had. This brand is fucking terrible quality; how do you make blood bags so weak they rip?”

“You don’t have anything else to collect it in?”

He sighs defeatedly, “No, it needs to be in these kinds of bags so I can store and freeze it properly.”

“Oh. Okay.”

“I’ll have to stock up on them and maybe take more next time.”

You nod slowly and understandingly. That will probably be the last time, then.

About a week and a half later, you find yourself on a bench downtown, your hands in the pockets of your coat to keep them warm. It’s Saturday, and on the other side of the street, a few people are standing in line to be let inside your town’s best version of a nightclub. You’re not certain what exactly brought you here, and you’re sure that if the happy, club-dressed people took the time to observe their surroundings, they’d notice you staring and look at you weirdly in turn.

“Hello?”

Registering the almost rude-sounding voice, you blink as you turn your head. It’s a guy.

“Huh?”

His face looks skeptic, and he’s got his hands in the front pockets of his jeans. He’s not wearing a jacket or coat of any kind over his white t-shirt, so you gather he’s in the middle of a night out. Probably left a bar for a smoke and spotted you.

“I asked you what your name is? Like three times?”

He’s good looking with black hair and dark eyes, but the tone of his voice is very unattractive, and you have no interest in him whatsoever, knowing he isn’t just looking to be your friend.

“Oh. Uh…”

You don’t say it. It’s not that you don’t remember your name or that you’re making a conscious effort to deny him the information, but it’s like your thoughts are at a standstill.

“Beat it.”

You furrow your eyebrows in confusion. His lips didn’t move.

“And who are you?” he asks, irritation dripping from his words, and this time, his lips are moving. However, his eyes are not on you but on something behind you.

Just as you’re about to turn around, the man in front of you leaves. His steps are quick, his mission abandoned.

“What are you doing here?”

Of course. It clicks the moment the vampire comes into view, and you’re surprised you didn’t immediately recognize his deep voice. He’s wearing that same leather jacket and some black pants, an outfit still very much inappropriate for winter. Though, something about him feels… wilder, almost a little uncontained? You can’t put your finger on what exactly.

“Uh, people-watching,” you inform as he rounds the bench, sitting down next to you.

Because he’s beautiful like no other, you glance discreetly at his face. He’s so masculine, but in certain lights, you glimpse something softer. You particularly like his nose and its rounded tip. It gives him such an attractive profile, you think, gaze traveling over his features and lingering on his dark eyelashes.

“Why? Isn’t it cold as hell for you?”

“Uhm, I don’t know? And I guess?”

From looking straight ahead, he turns his head, redirecting his full attention to you. The light from the closest street lamp reflects in his dark eyes.

“Is there any truth to that whole ‘vampires are designed to lure humans in’ thing?”

He grins. “I lure you in?”

“You’re more intimidating than you are attractive, actually,” you admit earnestly, wincing a little on the inside at how it came out a bit like an insult. He’s definitely attractive, and maybe the fact that he is so attractive is part of why he’s also so intimidating. “I’m just wondering what you looked like before.”

“I’ve always looked like this,” he explains casually, once again peering out over the cold, dark street. “Vampirism doesn’t change anything besides, like, skin impurities and conditions. I would’ve shown you a picture, but there were no cameras around when I was human,” he smiles cheekily.

“Anyway, you should go home. It’s really cold and not really safe at this time either,” he encourages.

You nod, realizing that he wants to protect his backup supply. “Yeah.”

“Good. I’ll see you next week.”

“Mhm.”

You expect him to get up and leave, confused when five seconds pass and he hasn’t moved. The feeling seems to be mutual because he turns his head to look at you again.

“So, are you leaving or not?”

“I am.”

“Then what are you waiting for?”

You look away, clearing your throat a bit awkwardly and realizing that you might just have to tell him, since he doesn’t seem to be leaving before you. “I don’t think I… can. I walked here, but I think I overestimated myself.”

The vampire looks you over briefly, probably just to be sure, but you both know that your main health concerns aren’t visible.

“Where do you live?”

“Oh, not that far. Like less than a ten minute walk, but I…”

“What’s your address?”

“124 Conch Street.”

“Stand up.”

“What?”

“Stand up.”

Puzzled, you follow his instructions and slowly rise to your feet. Though you’ve been sitting stranded on the bench for almost two hours, the dizziness returns the moment you stand.

But the vampire isn’t satisfied. “Get up on the bench and undo your coat up to your waist.”

This time, you give him a skeptic look.

“Just do as I say,” he holds his hand out for you.

Slowly and still confused, you take it, and with his aid, you step up onto the bench.

To your surprise, he lets go, and before you know it, he’s unzipped your coat from the bottom up to your waist, positioned himself in front of you, and grabbed your thighs. Instinctively, you place your arms around his neck as he hoists you onto his back and starts walking.

“What are you doing?” you breathe quietly.

“Taking you home in an inconspicuous way. It looks like we’re a couple, does it not?”

“Definitely an odd and unexpected couple if so, but I guess?”

“You’re a pretty girl, you know?”

Your lungs hold your breath for an extra second before slowly releasing it, and then you hum, but it’s only to actually provide him with an answer. You definitely don’t think you’re anywhere near pretty enough for someone like him. He doesn’t call you out on your vague answer.

You’re not the most common sight, couple or not, and people still watch you as you pass them. Unsure as to how to meet their curious gazes, you don’t; turning your head forward instead. When you’re so close, you inevitably catch his scent, only to find that he doesn’t smell like a whole lot. There are traces of soap, laundry detergent, and maybe a hint of cologne, but not much else. No lingering smell of sweat or anything like that.

He walks you through the city and past the alleyway where you first found him. It’s quiet, except for the muted sound of his footsteps as well as those of a man a bit ahead, evidently hurrying to get home and away from the cold.

“Are there more vampires here?” you wonder, looking around the silent street and thinking it might not be as empty as it seems.

“Yes,” he confirms casually.

It has your brain working, and the surroundings reminding you of why you’re with him in the first place.

“How are you going to kill me?”

If he’s caught off guard by your straightforward question, he does a good job of not showing it.

“I don’t know.”

“Okay. But I’d rather not bleed out,” you say, body aching at the mere thought. Although you’re certain there are much worse ways to go, you really don’t like the feeling of severe blood loss.

“It’s the easiest way though,” he explains. “It’s not as easy to drain a body without a heartbeat to move the blood around.”

“Are you familiar with livestock?” you ask, thinking back to what your three-year-older cousin once told you as you biked past a field of cows one summer when you were ten. “You can kill the animal and then ‘deblood’ them by hanging the body upside down and cutting their throat. The blood will drain easily. Do you have a bathtub?”

“You’re… a person though, still,” he says, and though he doesn’t falter in his steps, you can tell your words don’t sit quite right with him. “There’s no dignity in an ending like that. And don’t you care what happens to your body?”

To say you’re surprised is an understatement. You thought vampires were all bloodthirsty monsters, only biding their time until they can rip someone new apart. The messier, the better. The vampire, who’s carrying you on his back, made no effort to appear nice either. At least not at first. Now, you don’t even know.

You shrug slightly. You’re not a spiritual person, and you’ve never believed in something like an afterlife. “It’s just meat and bones. I won’t be here anymore, and no one’s going to be looking for me, anyway. There’s no use in keeping things ‘pretty.’”

He doesn’t say anything in turn, and you wonder how much about you he knows. How much about your life he realizes.

The vampire’s smooth movement lulls you further into relaxation, and you lean your head partly against your own arm, partly against him. He doesn’t say anything.

Way sooner than if you would’ve walked with your own two legs—if you would’ve made it home at all—he puts you down in front of your apartment complex. You search your pockets, locating your keys in the left one.

“Going home now? Since you can’t enter without permission,” you joke tiredly, unlocking the front entrance with the key fob.

The vampire raises his eyebrows. “I might as well make sure you don’t somehow trip and spill all my blood on the way to your apartment,” he smirks, grabbing the door and opening it wide without breaking eye contact. “And you shouldn’t believe everything you see or read.”

The smile he’s wearing as he makes a show out of stepping inside the building is another chilling one. You can’t say that you expected him to hit an invisible wall or anything, but for some reason, it would’ve almost felt… nice if that were the case. Considering your situation, you’re not sure why.

The elevator is empty and waiting for you, and after getting inside, you press the button for floor two, the vampire coming to stand beside you.

“Is there anything that is true regarding vampires?” you ask quietly as if someone would hear you inside the elevator.

“Besides the fact that we drink blood?”

“Yeah. Are you like, immortal and stuff? Super old?”

He chuckles. “Kinda. I don’t think anything’s truly immortal, but we do have a longer life span, yes.”

“What about senses? Can you hear my heart beat right now?”

“Yes. It sounds like it’s about to burst through your chest.”

Yeah, because it’s strained to hell and back, trying to keep you alive even in the condition you’re in.

“And super speed, super strength and all that?”

“Mhm, although we’re not so fast we go blurry. Are you impressed?”

“I don’t know? What do you use it for? I can’t think of even one thing having those powers would improve in my life.”

“Tough crowd,” he chuckles, avoiding your question as he follows you out of the elevator.

You understand that being physically superior is helpful when you’re a literal predator, and yeah, maybe being able to walk a tiny bit faster to work every morning would’ve saved you some time, but what else? Oh, yeah, one time, you had to throw away a jar of pickles because you simply could not get it open. Being stronger would’ve definitely helped you then.

Reaching your door, you’re quick to unlock it and pull it open to head inside, ignoring the two envelopes lying on the floor in your hallway. The vampire stays at the door, watching as you start to remove your coat two or so steps away from him.

“Are those… bruises?”

Turning your head as you make your way to the wardrobe to put the coat away, you see the vampire looking almost worried. You look down at the skin on your arms.

“Yeah.”

“Let me look at them,” he urges, holding his hand out.

“Why? They come with anemia; why does it matter?”

“Still, I want to see. Come over here.”

Despite looking oddly insistent, he makes no effort to actually enter your apartment.

Your eyes widen as you look at him. “You really can’t come inside without an invitation, can you?”

He sighs exasperatedly. “Technically, no, I can’t step inside unless you give me permission.”

It makes you laugh a little in wonder. “Wow.”

He rolls his eyes, but you can tell it amuses him a little too.

“Listen, I’ll be fine until we meet again and if the bruises are still there, you can look at them then. I kinda don’t actually want to invite you in, is that rude of me?”

“No, it’s not. Very reasonable, actually.”

“Okay, then I’ll see you Friday?”

He nods politely and steps back. “See you.”

You watch him leave, his footsteps sounding through the hall as you bend down to pick up the envelopes you’ve been ignoring for days. They’re probably bills, and you’ll be dead soon, so who really cares if you pay them or not?

Mindlessly, you approach the door to close it, your focus on the white paper in your hands. You put your finger under the fold to rip the first envelope open, wincing when the paper cuts through your skin instead.

Holding your finger up, you inspect the damage and the little bead of red that’s forming next to the invisible cut. You look at it, furrowing your eyebrows at how you feel like something’s… missing? A moment later, you realize what it is, and your body freezes.

The footsteps have stopped.

It dawns on you, as you look at the blood, what the vampire was actually doing tonight and why he looked wilder than usual. Early Saturday night, lurking around the clubs until he found you and had to abandon his plans.

He was hunting.

Your eyes widen and your heart stops as you hear it. One footstep. Then another. And another. They’re speeding up, and soon enough running toward you.

Before you’ve had a chance to shut the door, it flies wide open. Panicked, you move farther into the apartment, but you fall backward and by pure instinct, crawl back as quickly as you can.

Despite claiming that he couldn’t enter without your permission, the vampire falls to his knees, then all fours, to reach you. You’ve never seen anything as scary as the bloodthirsty creature grasping the air, trying to get you. He moves so quickly, and his hand is just about to grab your foot when it’s like… he’s held back by something.

You're breathing heavily, trying to understand what’s happening. Why doesn’t he just move another three centimeters? He licks his lips in frustration, exposing fangs that are definitely longer than you remember. Meeting his eyes, they’re cold like never before, and he exhales angrily. He’s still reaching for you, and frozen in your spot, you look over at him, briefly wondering if his feet got stuck or something when it hits you.

He can’t step inside.

You sit there, your feet mere centimeters from his grasping hand when there’s a sound down the hall, and in a split second, the vampire seems to snap out of it. He looks at you, appearing to realize what he’s doing and somehow gaining control over himself. Looking around, he gets up, and he leaves. Quickly and without a word.

Wide-eyed and with your heart beating painfully, you remain on the floor, wondering what the hell just happened. Even when his footsteps are long gone, you’re too afraid to get up and close the door, worried that he’ll return and be able to reach you.

You’d like a very serious word with whoever established the ‘no entering without permission’ rule but also decided that the vampires could cheat it by keeping their feet outside and crawling inside.

You sleep a little uneasy the following nights, thinking a lot. Of course, your thoughts are mostly occupied by those cold, black eyes, thirsty for your blood.

<previous | next> happy halloween <3<3

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bitchy-craft · 2 months ago

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PICK A CARD: How your future spouse will treat you

Hello and welcome to this new post of mine! In here I will give you a reading on how your future spouse will treat you. I hope you guys enjoy and find this useful!

Masterpost > Paid Readings > Subliminal Channel

~pick a card~

Pile 1:

Your future spouse would treat you as if you were their best friend, just a bit more romantic. You would be their best friend, and they’d be yours. All crude jokes are allowed to be made, and will even be encouraged to be made. Your whole relationship would be about having fun, making jokes, and creating embarrassing situations for each other. You two will bond with humour, and that will be the main line within your relationship.

Your future spouse will be caring, and definitely will be serious when needed. They will listen to you when you are upset, and make a joke once they think they can start making them now, cheering you up in the process.

Pile 2:

Your future spouse would treat you very well. Their whole ideal within a relationship is being able to care for someone (although they’d obviously allow you to have your own things, that you can be your own independent person). Whenever they can they will love to help you out, cook for you, clean your place when they think it needs a clean again.

Your future spouse would always make sure you feel okay, and will immediately start helping once they realise they can. They are the kind of people to wake you up with a breakfast in bed every once in a while (not always, they still want it to keep having a special feeling to it, not just something you can expect every day / every week).

Pile 3:

Your future spouse would treat you very well. They’d be known to be very considerate with you. You might have some problems with things, or some difficulties in general; whether it comes to socialisation, something physical, something mental, or not being able to completely live on your own. Your future spouse would be your support beam, and love to be able to measure up to your needs and help you with everything.

Overtime they’d even be able to help you grow, and you’ll learn to do things, or be more confident about certain things even though you never imagined to be able to grow like that, to be able to do all those things.

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casscainmainly · 1 month ago

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So in Spirit World there's two separate panels that show Cass' family/loved ones. The first I think is more circulated:

The second is this one:

These line-ups are probably different due to space/convenience, but to overanalyse these panels for a bit, it's interesting who's present in which. Bruce, Steph, and Babs are present in both - makes sense, they're the most important figures in Cass' life. Steph is front and center in both, suggesting she really is Cass' favourite person ever.

Bruce is relatively big in the top panel, but much smaller in the bottom. The top panel explicitly is about "family," while the bottom is about people who "know and love you". Bruce becoming smaller suggests that Cass thinks of him as her dad, but the 'knowing' and 'loving' part isn't as secure for her. (This is probably not intentional but reflects their dynamic very well, particularly post-Cass being sent to HK and her unresolved feelings about that).

Babs is pretty big in both, and I love that she's Oracle here (the wheelchair in the bottom panel!!). This makes total sense - the time when Babs loved and cared for her most was when she was Oracle. Cass probably still sees and remembers her that way.

Onto the interesting stuff, which is Duke being missing for 'family' but present for 'know and love you'. I think he should be in the top panel, but maybe he's too new for Cass to consider him family? Everyone in the top panel is from the bg 2000 era, so Cass might think of that time as her true 'family'. Anyway, the fact he makes it into the bottom still shows they're close, and that Cass considers him someone who understands/'knows' her.

Dick and Tim being present for 'family' and missing for 'know and love you' is so fun. Tim maybe should be present in the bottom, but recent canon hasn't made them as close as they used to be (in BG 2000 and Red Robin). So they love each other, but not to the extent of anyone in the bottom panel; he's still definitively family though.

Dick is the same, but there's a lot more sibling rivalry and complicated feelings there. It makes total sense for Cass to see him as a brother, but to not think he 'knows' or 'loves' her all that much; they do get along, but I think they remember their mistakes with each other and think the other person still holds a grudge (they don't). Peak Dick-Cass dynamic to me!

So if I had to rank Cass' favourite people in the Batfam according to these panels, it'd be: 1. Steph 2. Babs 3. Bruce 4. Tim and/or Duke 5. Dick

#cassandra cain #spirit world #stephanie brown #barbara gordon #bruce wayne #tim drake #duke thomas #dick grayson #rip damian and jason but it was correct for you guys not to be there #people thinking dick and cass hate each other... like yes but in the sibling way not in the real way they would die for each other!!#too much dick and cass discourse on here recently spirit world set them straight #steph front and center in both oh stephcass you will always be famous #alyssa wong clearly loves bg 2000 maybe that's the recipe for good stories #read spirit world!! the art is amazing and you get to see the world's coolest magician Xanthe Zhou <333

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primofate · 2 months ago

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Is it a crime to post unfinished drafts? It's been sitting for 2 years already. I'm letting this one go.

Genshin Series - The sides of him only you get to have and see Part 5: Angry/Frustrated [All male characters]

Other works in this series: (Part 1 - Soft and Gentle) (Part 2 - flustered) (Part 3 - clingy) (Part 4 - Worried)

Warnings: some fluff, some angst, depending on the prompt, lots of different scenarios, some protective, some a bit yandere, some aggressive... quite long cause i got carried away >_>

Personal favourites in this work: Ayato, Bennett

Aether

When his investigation about his sister’s whereabouts turns up into a dead end

“...What if I never find her?” His voice is just a whisper as the two of you sit side by side around the campfire. Paimon is already sleeping off to the side, exhausted by the day’s events.

You can hear the desperation in his voice, and it cripples you as well, the hurt that comes with losing a loved one and being unable to find them. You let yourself fall sideways and lay your head on his shoulder, hoping to give him some comfort. “...We’ll keep looking, Teyvat’s a big place, you know,” you whisper and it seems that your answer only serves to frustrate him more.

“That’s exactly the problem... Sometimes I don’t know where to start and I don’t know where to look first... I just...” His fists clench for a moment but he relaxes with a small sigh minutes later, arm wounding around your back to pull you closer to his side. “Sorry... I don’t mean to complain so much,”

You shake your head as you bask in his warmth. “You’re allowed to feel this way, Aether. I’m right here beside you, okay?”

His gaze softens, head leaning towards the crown of your head to place a kiss there. “Thank you, Y/N,” he wouldn’t know what to do if he lost you as well.

Albedo

When someone is too rough with you.

Could he request you not to work at the tavern? Possibly, yes. But Albedo was not the type to tie you down or tell you what to do. Plus, you were capable of taking care of yourself.

Sometimes he would pick you up from your shift, however, today the Cat’s Tail was a little understaffed and you had to work a few more orders before you could go.

“Hey!” You jump as one tavern-goer stands and smashes his glass of beer on the table with a loud THUD. “This isn’t what I ordered!” Frankly you were used to this by now, but it didn’t mean that you were any less startled. You calmly walked over to the table and took back the mugs that you just placed when the same person grabs your wrist.

The mugs sway in your hand, the beer in it pouring over your fingers a little as it sloshed. “Sir?” You ask as the man’s hand tightens around your wrist.

The man grunts and growls “Make sure you tell the bartender to give me a discount for giving the wrong order!” Drunkards were like that. They were loud and sometimes couldn’t control themselves, you twist your wrist away successfully and relay the message to the bartender, though you noticed that Albedo was there too, waiting for you to come back.

Albedo catches your arm and lifts your wrist up to eye level. There’s a blank look on his face that you can’t quite read and for a moment his eyes dangerously flicker to the group of tavern-goers who gave you trouble. You sense that he’s a little irked. “It’s okay ‘Bedo, I’m fine, just the usual rowdy people, you know?” You reassure him and his stern face drops, replaced by that of defeat with a small sigh.

It’s “just the usual” you say. He doesn’t quite know how to feel about that, if this was “usual”, yet he understood. Every job came with its risks and this was already relatively safer than being an adventurer. Albeo sighs again and brings your wrist up to his lips, his eyes yet again dart towards the said table. He really wanted to have a word with those rude men, but he avoided conflict for your sake.

“Alright, Y/N. As long as you keep your promise,” he reminds you. Jogging your memory that you had promised to tell him if something dire really happens at work.

Ayato

When his status affects you

You’re aware that ever since you and Ayato were married, his shuumatsuban had also been following you around. Ayato reassured you that it was for your own good, and you somewhat agreed. You weren’t that bothered by it, since the shuumatsuban were so good at concealing their presence, it seemed like nothing changed in your every day routine.

“Master Ayato,” and so imagine Ayato’s annoyance when he receives a report from one of his men that you were being tailed by someone suspicious. “...Capture him,”

In the secret dungeons of the Kamisato residence, there is a pitiful man sitting in the middle of a cell with bars. Kamisato Ayato stands in front of him, cold and calculating look on his face. “State your reason for tailing Y/N,” he would break this man quick, and get all the answers he needed for your safety.

“I-I-I swear I’m not a bad guy! I just--Someone told me they’d pay me a huge amount of money to kidnap Y/N!” Ayato doesn’t break his cold gaze from the man, but he also can’t control the way he unsheathes his sword and starts to clean it with a cloth, as if getting ready for an execution.

“Then for your own good I suggest you give me all the names of these people who bribed you,” His tone is calm, but also eerie. “After that’s done, you won’t lay your eyes on Y/N again... Is that understood?”

He couldn’t afford for anything to happen to you, specially not when it was because of him.

Bennett

When his bad luck affects you

Bennett had been quiet the whole way back to Mondstadt. As per usual a few things happened that proved his luck was horrid.

Today seemed to be one of the worst.

Not only did you not finish the commission given to you, but things happened one after the other.

First, the two of you couldn’t find the monster you were looking for. Second, when you finally found it, it proved to be difficult to subdue. Third, the treasure the two of you found was not really treasure at all. Fourth, you could not find the item that you were supposed to bring back to town and finally, fifth, a once wonderful, cloudless and breezy day suddenly turned glum and the rain poured down on your heads.

Bennett was utterly defeated, and you knew it cause he had been quiet up until the gates of Mondstadt, when the two of you finally took shelter for a moment from the rain. He usually would still be upbeat and positive, no matter what he went through, but seeing you sneeze and shiver in the rain, on top of being tired and grimey, he really couldn’t help but hate his bad luck.

You glanced at him at the corner of your eye, he was looking at the ground with his brows furrowed. The look of frustration was foreign in his face but you said what you always did after an adventure with him. “...Today was fun, Bennett. Let’s go again tomorrow!”

His head snaps up in an instant, eyes wide and tracing your face for any lies and dishonesty. All he saw was your bright smile and eager disposition. Truthfully you had learned to be incredibly positive because of him, and if he needed a little bit of that positivity, then you were willing to give it back, no matter how hard things were.

For a split second his lips looked as if they trembled, his shoulders relaxed and a wobbly smile appears on his face. He nearly barrels into you with a hug, and mumbles “You’re the best Y/N,”

Bennett always thought that you were his sun, and he loved every bit of the time he spent with you.

Chongyun

When he isn’t able to protect you

“’Yun?” You call out from your sitting position on your bed, and Chongyun, for the umpteenth time that day, slightly jerks up on the chair next to you, eyes darting towards your face.

“Hm?” he says, trying to brush off the fact that he had been zoning out, small, shy smile on his face.

You’re silent for a moment, staring back at him. The cogs in your mind working a bit more. “...You’re upset aren’t you?”

The way he tenses up at your accusation tells you the answer, but still he denies it. “N-No,”

You sigh, your bandaged arm resting on your side. The wound didn’t hurt that much, but Chongyun was the one who insisted he’d feed you instead of making you use your dominant, injured arm. He was so embarrassed when he offered it. Face red and unsure what to say except that he was holding the bowl of porridge your mother made in his hands and that was enough of a cue for you.

“...Aah,” You open your mouth again, and that’s when Chongyun snaps out of it, realizing that he hadn’t even finished feeding you. So he proceeds to give you another spoonful.

“You know it’s not your fault, right?” You confirm after you swallow that bite and he again tenses up without saying anything.

You knew he hated it when the two of you went adventuring together and you ended up getting hurt. Occasionally it would be him with the injury, but when you got injured, somehow, to him, it was a graver matter than him getting hurt.

That statement opens his dam of insecurities. “I’m too weak...If I had been a little faster...”

“I must be pretty weak too then, if I wasn’t even able to dodge it,” you counter and you see him open his mouth in protest but close it again, knowing that you had laid a trap for him if he disagreed. He went silent again.

“...I think you’re really cool Chongyun, the way you handle your claymore makes you look really handsome,” you giggled a little cause you knew he was going to go red and sputter out a response.

“W-W-What do you mean?” He proceeds to shove another spoonful in your face, probably so that you wouldn’t actually be able to reply. “A-Anyway...I...I’ll work harder to protect you,” he finishes his sentence and you don’t protest nor say another thing anymore, seeing as he at least got some of his good mood back.

Dainsleif

When you don’t keep a promise

“You said you would meet me by the tree in Windrise. Imagine my distress when you didn’t show up,” Dainsleif had his arms crossed over his chest, eyes actually glaring at you.

“I know but you know how things can get. The job was a little more difficult than expected and it took longer to finish,”

You’d found yourself trudging deep through the forest to locate the cabin he considered his “home”. Far away from everything else and nearly impossible to locate if you had never been there before. You arrived by morning, knocking at his door and unsurprised with the dumbfounded look on his face.

He still welcomed you in, but he didn’t say a word and the air was tense even as he placed a glass of water on the table for you.

Then you were here, getting the lecture from him.

“Then you shouldn’t have promised to be there. It’s a simple thing to communicate with me that you’re not sure when you’ll be done, I would have waited,” He continued and you sighed, cause you knew that he was right. You really shouldn’t have promised you were going to be there on time. It’s not as if it’d be the end of the world if you were a day or two late.

“I know, I’m sorry. I guess I just wanted to see you as soon as I could and I wasn’t thinking,” you should’ve known by now that promises were a heavy thing to Dainsleif.

You heard him give out one of his own sighs and then his hand cups your chin and tilts it up to meet him eye to eye. “I trust you understand why I’m angry,” his voice had levelled down a little, and though he was frustrated earlier you can always see the worry behind his gaze and the love in his eyes.

You smile a little and nod your head, still a little apologetic. “If I can’t find you, if you happen to go missing, do you know what that would do to me?” He asks you, eyes finally dropping the glare and just softly gazing at you.

“I know,” you whisper and lean your face closer to his hand. Your arm reaches out to hold his coat, tugging on it a little as if a small child. “...I know you weren’t able to sleep...and I spent the whole night trying to make it back to you...so can we rest for a bit?” You suggest and he found it a good idea.

He wordlessly sweeps you into his arms and kisses your forehead, bringing the two of you into the bedroom.

Diluc

When you forget to tell him where you’re going and he doesn’t know where you are

“Adelinde, did Y/N mention skipping dinner today?” Diluc asked his head maid. He was alone at the dinner table and you were nowhere to be found in the mansion.

Adelinde considered her words carefully. A slight misuse of words would send the young master into a spiral of worry and anxiety. She was a hundred percent sure you had just forgotten to tell someone that you were going to be out for dinner, because you’ve done it before, bless your bad memory, but Adelinde really wished you would at least tell the young master.

“...They didn’t mention, Master Diluc...but I’m sure they must be out on some errands in Mondstadt,” it was a gamble for Adelinde to state that, because she also didn’t know where you were, and she would be in deep trouble if you didn’t come home at all.

Diluc started to eat, albeit slowly and glanced at Adelinde when she made that statement. “...Did they mention going on an errand?” he asked again, to which Adelinde now had to truthfully reply. “...No,”

Cue the distress in Diluc’s features. Furrowed brows, cutlery not even moving, eyes calculating. You could practically see all the assumptions run through his face. Maybe you were in trouble, maybe you were taken, maybe you were lost somewhere and needed help. You would have said something if you were going to be home late, no?

Diluc dropped his cutlery on the table, and he started going back through his memories to determine whether or not you actually had said anything about today. He would have remembered, and as far as he could tell, you didn’t say anything about not having dinner with him today, or anything of the sort.

He was about to push himself up and away from the table, to double check at Mondstadt if anyone had seen you, when the front door opened, revealing you with a basket of goods and a smile on your face. Diluc practically deflated, your name a sigh on his lips, “Y/N,”

You knew that look, and you knew that look that Adelinde was giving you. “Oh Archons. I’m sorry, I went out in a hurry and just forgot to tell anyone where I was going,” your smile dropped almost immediately as you scurried over to the table with an apologetic gaze on your face turned towards Diluc.

You knew how worried he could get, he could already feel the adrenaline starting to pump through him, thinking about all the worst case scenarios. Diluc sighed once again, repositioning himself properly in front of the table and picking up his cutlery again. He was slightly angry, you could tell. Mostly because this wasn’t the first time it had happened. “...Put your things down and we can eat,” he simply said and you pouted a little while passing the things over to Adelinde, then sitting on your side of the table.

“...I don’t get my welcome back kiss?” You chide him playfully, to which his eyes lazily graze over you and back to his plate of food.

“When you start remembering to tell someone where you’re going in the middle of the night, I’ll start giving you your welcome back kisses,” he strictly exclaims and you could only grumble under your breath.

Gorou

When he spends too much time training or working and loses time with you

“Hahhhh...” Gorou plops down on the tatami floor of his home with a loud and long sigh. Not only was training and the patrols a little harsh today, but that was another day gone without getting to see you.

How long had it been now? Eight, nine days? He was starting to get really antsy about not being able to see you and he knew it wasn’t anyone’s fault but his.

That night he couldn’t immediately fall into a peaceful sleep. He tossed whenever he thought of you and turned whenever he started thinking too much of what the two of you would do together the next time you saw each other. It was like planning out a whole date in his mind but realizing that he didn’t even have any day offs soon. So he would deflate and be disappointed in himself, try to go to sleep, then get carried away thinking about you again, causing him to snap his eyes open and repeat the thinking process.

“Arrghhh!” At some point he shakes his head and shuts his eyes tight, the frustration getting to him. He had to sleep, or he’ll have a really tiring day tomorrow.

When he woke up the next morning to knocks on his door he immediately thought he had overslept. He scrambled to his feet, swinging the door open with his still disheveled fluffy hair and said “I-I’ll be right there! I just--” then he reels back, blinking, realizing that it was you standing there are the door. “Y-Y/N?! What’re you doing here?”

He smooths his hair down, tries to pat down his wrinkly house clothes but his eyes are tacked on to you, wide and happy.

“I figured I’d visit you this time, since you seem really busy,” you laugh sheepishly, scratching your cheek. “I hope I’m not intruding,”

“Of course not!” He replies quickly but coughs on his hand right after. “I-I mean. Yeah, you’re always welcome here,” he smiles and beams at you, but then slumps his shoulders right after. “I...I still have work though, so I won’t be able to spend a lot of time with you...”

You shake your head and wave your hands “That’s alright! I can still spend lunch and dinner with you, right? That’s more than enough for me,”

His heart blooms with a warmth that engulfs his body, his cheeks might have turned red. You were just oh-so sweet to him and oh-so kind, he didn’t know what he did to deserve an angel like you.

Heizou

When he can’t help you with your problems

Heizou is a genius at solving problems, but he knows that sometimes there are problems that he can’t solve nor he shouldn’t interfere with. One of those was problems within your family.

Sure, he had solutions and probably ways to diffuse the rising tensions in your family, but he wasn’t really in the right place to do so. All he could do is listen to you rant and complain about how things are getting so much harder with your mom and dad, and you just wanting to run away from it all, move out as soon as you can but you were tied down with the obligation of caring for your sick mother.

It pains him and frustrates him, watching you stress over it day by day, but as much as he wanted to tell your parents that they were affecting you this much, there are some things that he shouldn’t meddle with.

All he could do was offer advice. “...Perhaps move out and live somewhere close to them? It would still give you the advantage of privacy,” he suggests, as he sits next to you on a bench, arm coming around and behind your back, hand resting on your hip.

“I would, but the houses nearby are actually pricey, mostly because they’re family houses, not for a single person rent,” You lean sideways into him. He’s always so good at giving you solutions, though you’re unaware of the internal battle inside him, seeing you so distraught like this.

“...Well why not live with me then?” You can hear that familiar mischief in his voice, and though you know he’s joking it still flusters you.

“D-Don’t say that as a joke, Heizou!” He chuckles at your reaction, just as he expected, but he leans in to place a kiss atop your head, his next sentences sending a shiver up your spine. “It’s a joke now, but someday I’ll make it real, regardless of what your parents say,”

Of course he ends it with a wink.

Itto

When someone hurts you and he witnesses it

Itto doesn’t get angry easily. He just doesn’t have the capacity for it. He was loud, yes, but good natured overall and never means any actual harm to anyone.

Unfortunately you can’t say the same thing about some people in Inazuma. For the most part, people were friendly, amicable, helpful...but sometimes there were the odd balls that just appeared out of nowhere, wreaking havoc when they wanted to.

Just the other day a group of ronin who claimed to be the strongest group of vagabonds roaming Inazuma entered town and they were loud and gruff about it. “Where’s the best inn in town?” They asked at the entrance, and a kind man directed them towards it.

The next day that man was bullied by the same ronin. “We said the BEST inn in town, not the most EXPENSIVE!” You had witnessed it, the man who was just trying to help them was starting to cower backwards, the ronin were complaining about the price of the room, how they wanted the man to pay for it and you just couldn’t stand that blatant bullying.

“What’s your problem? Of course it’s going to be expensive!” You appeared behind the group and just couldn’t help but be angry at their stupidity and overall disgusting behaviour. One of them looks at you, then starts to laugh and the others follow suit, all laughing at you as if you were a clown on the streets.

You didn’t falter and merely crossed your arms above your chest. “If you have nothing better to do then maybe you should look for a job so you can pay for your next inn,” was provoking them a good idea? Of course not, and you knew that.

One of the ronins grabs you and twists your arm behind your back. You could only let out a whimper at the sudden motion but as soon as it happened it was over. You found yourself suddenly pushed behind, looking at Itto’s back as he shoves the ronin away with a harsh force.

“The hell do you think you’re doing touching Y/N like that?!” Itto’s voice is loud, louder than when he’s excited about eating ramen or louder than when he’s discovered a magnificent onikabuto. The anger in his voice is unusual, you don’t immediately recognize it as his.

Itto’s tall. Taller than any of the ronin around you and suddenly it’s as if the ronin become meek little mice, stepping away from him and you. “W-We were just--”

Itto brandishes his claymore, “Less talking, more fighting. You want a real arm wrestle? Come at me,” you can’t imagine what kind of face he’s making, but the ronin--actually just cowards--runs at the sight of Itto’s weapon and he’s just about to go after them when you call out to him, telling him to calm down.

He doesn’t listen easily, but you place a hand on his arm and he stops, still glaring and huffing at the sight of those stupid ronins running away.

Scaramouche

When you have to be paired up with another Harbinger for work

“You’re going with who?” There’s poison dripping from his voice, but you’re so used to his antics by now that it doesn’t scare you one bit.

“Tartaglia. The Tsaritsa said--”

“Fuck what the Tsaritsa says,” Scaramouche cuts you off. “You’re not going with that fool,” He stands and paces back and forth now. You simply sit at the table and watch him, knowing that he’s going to throw one of his “tantrums” again. “Possibly the worst person to go on a mission with,” he continues to grumble, now biting on his thumb.

“You always get worked up whenever the two of us are paired up together. It really isn’t that bad,” you exclaim, shrugging your shoulders and he stops walking to glare at you.

“So it’s a little bad? Is that what you’re insinuating?” He doesn’t let you finish and adds. “You don’t know how dangerous he is,”

You couldn’t help but stifle a laugh quite obviously. “Scara, I think you’re more dangerous?”

Tartaglia

“I’m different,” He mumbles under his breath.

When his alone time with you gets interrupted

Thoma

When you get sick but he’s busy

Venti

When he hasn’t seen you in days

Xiao

When he wants you to stay

Xingqiu

When a book he’s reading isn’t as good as he thought it would be

Zhongli

When someone doesn’t respect your boundaries

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embracing-the-ineffable · 5 months ago

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Beware clickbait accusations

Hi fandom, here's what happened yesterday: A reporter named Rachel Johnson, who is the sister to Boris Johnson and a big terfy supporter of JK Rowling, released a 4-part true crime podcast featuring two women accusing Neil Gaiman of SA. Yesterday. The day before the UK elections. This post explores the possible political links in more detail.

CW: this post is free of graphic details, but if you follow these links, there may be explicit descriptions of sex, kink, and bdsm, plus mentions of mental illness and suicidal thoughts.

I want to believe and support survivors, and I also want to base my thoughts and actions on facts. I thought the xitter livestream commentary from Not Becky for all 4 episodes was very insightful. There's also a first episode transcript without extra commentary. (Edit: released after I wrote this post: the full audio plus transcripts for all four episodes of the podcast are now available to download here, or you can read all four transcripts in your browser.) I have since concluded (pending more time to think and read and learn, or any new information, of course):

This seems like the worst kind of clickbait, an unjustified mess that will hurt everyone involved (except possibly a few politicians who might benefit somehow, we'll see). The evidence the "reporters" present directly contradicts their accusations. They're counting on people reading headlines and not digging any deeper.

They tried to make something sinister where there was apparently consent and a caring relationship. Have they exploited one or both of these women? S, in particular, is described as vulnerable and with a history of unspecified mental illness. They have all of the message history between S and Neil, and her messages make the sexy stuff between the two of them sound enthusiastically consensual. There are even messages (multiple!) where she specifically says everything was consensual. Here's one:

They're playing horror music in the background to try to make us feel horrified, even as S reassures us that things were consensual. It's emotional manipulation by the reporters.

The times S sounds upset during the interview are the times she talks about Neil leaving her behind or not paying attention to her. Not the times she talks about consent violations. Her stories during the interview are inconsistent, and they contradict her messages with Neil and with others. Maybe we'll get better information from a more reputable news source, or maybe not, I don't know. I also don't know why anyone who cares about her would have advised her to do this interview.

Then they tracked down lots of other women who know/have dated Neil and they all had glowing things to say, except one other lover from 20 years ago, K. She described some bad sex, and then pointed to a time in their 2-year relationship when she felt something wasn't consensual and he thought it was. And after their breakup, they continued to text and flirt, for decades.

This podcast "exposé" feels like explosive clickbait with political ramifications. The evidence here doesn't support a pattern of poor conduct so much as establish Neil as a fellow well-meaning human with imperfect judgement. That doesn't mean the accusations are all made up; intimate partner violence is complicated, and the responsibility for checking in and getting regular enthusiastic consent from partners is very real, especially when kink or bdsm are involved.

I don't know what the right balance is here between supporting survivors, thinking critically, assuming good intentions, and waiting for better information, but I feel confident that this podcast alone is not enough to condemn anyone aside from the irresponsible journalists who inflicted it on the rest of us.

PS/edit: I'm tagging my relevant posts (mostly reblogs) with #ineffable grief, and you can see all of them here.

#neil gaiman #clickbait #think critically #ineffable grief #be kind #intimate partner violence #mental health #Irresponsible journalists #uk politics #good omens fandom #good omens

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edwinspaynes · 3 months ago

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I was angry. I'm still angry. But sadness and exhaustion have overtaken that anger, and I have A LOT to say about this.

Dead Boy Detectives is a very special show to me. It occupies a ridiculously large place in my heart, and it's brought me joy in a way that only a few pieces of media ever have. When I watched it for the first time, Edwin Payne had my heart within minutes. By the end of episode one, Charles Rowland did, too.

It meant a lot to me, seeing such wonderful and nuanced queer characters brought to life in the type of paranormal story I have always loved. In these past months, Edwin and Charles have felt like real friends to me, and to never see them again without a satisfying conclusion to their story is something I have not truly processed. Same for Niko and Crystal and The Cat King - they should be back. But I haven't fully processed it yet, that they're not coming back, and yet I am still aggreived.

@netflix is, at this point, so fucking gagged on capitalism's dick that they're not even pretending to care about art anymore. Dead Boy Detectives is genuinely masterfully made on just about every level. The actors did a phenomenal job and I will be following all their careers heavily. Steve, Beth, and the writing team crafted an incredible tale. The sets, the lighting, the props, the effects were all on point. This was a well-constructed program, and you could tell that everyone involved with the project gave it their all because they cared so deeply.

(Also my heart breaks for the whole cast, but it's hardcore hurting for George since this was not only his first screen role but one he clearly thought he would be keeping as of two weeks ago. He seemed so secure. I hate this for him.)

In addition to being a good show, DBDA had good reception. It's got a 92% on Rotten Tomatoes, was on the Top 10 for several weeks, got 4.7 million views within week one, and was getting daily articles posted on various review sites with NOTHING but praise. The fandom is incredibly active. We trend on Tumblr like five times a week and on Twitter regularly as well.

THE. SCRIPT. FOR. SEASON. 2. WAS. WRITTEN.

What the fuck happened?

Idiot executives at @netflix, choking on the dick of capitalism, probably just thought that they wouldn't get new subscribers for a second season of an existing show that didn't rake in Bridgerton-level cash. That's how they work - people who are interested in it are already subscribers, so who the fuck cares about them? Better to make some other shit, hope new people subscribe, and maybe that'll be a Bridgerton-level hit.

But also, Netflix has fun little trends to look into. And, when you look at the lineup of shows Netflix has canceled, they are overwhelmingly queer. The homophobia of @netflix and their operatives is clearly boundless, and it hits here really badly because this show was clearly made with a queer audience in mind. It was one of the most authentic pieces of queer media I have ever experienced, if not THE most authentic pieces of queer media that I have ever experienced.

It's fucking ridiculous that Netflix canceled a show that they commissioned a completed script of months ago. It sucks that they decided that their existing subscribers, their queer subscribers, did not matter.

Edwin and Charles are ours now. Well, of course, they're George's and Jayden's respectively, but the characters are no longer Netflix's to use and throw out. They're ours now, our fandom's, and we all love them so much.

And we deserved to see more of them, and we deserved to see their love story play out onscreen, but I for one am not going anywhere. Let's give Edwin and Charles - and the rest of the gang - millions of versions of the stories and endings that Netflix deprived them of.

#dead boy detectives #dbda #im literally crying now #edwin payne #charles rowland #payneland #george rexstrew

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hiveswap · 10 months ago

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Summary of The Cat of The Year poll atrocities of 2023/2024

I'm sure that most people on this side of tumblr have seen the Jellie vs. Nefarious Anglerfish poll going around with like 60k votes at this point, and I'd really like clear up some of what happened since I was around for the whole thing.

Url blocked out for op's privacy. They have already left but don't look for it if you haven't seen it/don't harrass them if you already have.

1. The previous round (preparation)

I discovered the poll in its previous round, needless to say she beat Jort's ass severely. This was around the 3rd of january, meaning that this round finished before jellie's passing with only about 7k votes. Op did add their own piece of propaganda from their main:

...which was FINE. (except for stuff we'll see later) Of course running a poll while biased isn't ideal but I for one didn't even know they were the op until much later. I also added my own piece in a separate thread, and they didn't interact with it at all. There was no drama.

2. The Finale

Jellie unfortunately passed away right before the starting of this poll, which was the catalyst for what happened next. Op did exactly as last time and added a slightly more mean spirited encouragement to vote for the other contestant. This is the point where I believe that i fucked up personally.

I added this thinkpiece accusing op of associating all mcyters with Dream (who we all hate for the record) despite them not alluding to him at all. This is because tumblr has a history of disimissing all mcyters as... everything that dream was been accused of. Op did allude to not caring for mcyt. but they didn't say what i accused them of. This is important to point out because this reblog of mine is still being spread. Jellie was in the lead at the time, but not by the time i woke up next morning.

I won't be including anyone else's additions because I don't want to put blame on any specific person. Just felt like clearing up mine.

3. The Fuckening

Some time later op made this post to their personal blog:

which is insanely shitty because, as other people have pointed out, the "lame ass youtube cat" didn't die to inconvinience op or ruin their fun, and people would have probably voted for her anyway because jelly is universally beloved in the mcyt community. This isn't anti democratic. This post was added to the poll with a caption saying op should not be running this poll, and it took off. Op later went on to say that this was a joke:

This apology was not taken well by people, (including me) because "you were not meant to see it" isn't an apology and they still very much made fun of someone's pet dying. Safe to say this did not make the drama stop and only added fuel to the flame. I believe this was the point where the conversation of mcyt fans being unjustly sent hate to was reignited.

We should discuss that! it's a real thing that happens often and is equal to childish bullying. However, in this case, OP was the only one getting sent hate to my knowledge. The notes were mostly saturated by mcyt fans, and even now i can only find one or two hateful stance towards us under the whole 20k notes post.

4. Conclusions

Op posted a second apology to the catoftheyear blog to try and calm people down (i believe this is comprehensive and a lot better than the previous one) The blog was deactivated shortly after, so i only have my phone screenshots of it that i also added to the poll itself at some point:

(Edit) Here's proof that op did not write the justification they got criticised for, from the notes of the original poll:

This apology didn't get seen, or get accepted by enough people, so op made this statement on their personal:

Needless to say I am deeply dissapointed (and guilty) that it's come to this. Yes, op said tasteless things that made us all angry, but telling a human being to commit suicide is worse than being insensitive about a stranger's pet dying. Even after I posted about the blog being decatived i had someone come into my notes to wish that "they never find happiness" i mean wtf. This isn't like shipping where we can do whatever without the content creator's input. this is fucking harrowing and i can't imagine how i'd feel if this was done in my/my pet's name especially after losing them as recently as a week ago.

I hope no one from hermitcraft who is on here (let alone scar holy shit) learns about this like they did with previous lighthearted tournaments. If you truly respect the creators you claim to be a fan of as people, you do not tell people to kill themselves over them. And finally, let Jellie fucking rest, guys. she had a long, good life. I hope op can come back and also avoids behaving like this if they ever wish to do so. I'm angrier at mcytblr, though.

#catoftheyear #jellie #tw animal death #tw suicide bait #hermitcraft #goodtimeswithscar #adding to main tags so people see this instead of the poll itself with no context on how it ended #If this breaches containment and gets used as a reason to hurt mcyt fans i am going zo eat whoever is doing that #catoftheyeartournament #jellie the cat

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thriftedtchotchkes · 1 year ago

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old dogs don't change

pairing: joel miller x f!reader

summary: weeks after sleeping together, your no-strings-attached agreement goes up in flames when joel goes on a date with another woman. you make sure that never happens again. (sequel to keep it on the low)

warnings: 18+ MDNI, ex-boyfriend!joel, jackson era, tlou 2 jesse appearance, age gap, hurt, angst, smut, unprotected piv, post-breakup sex, rough sex, public sex, rough oral (m!receiving), exhibitionism, possessive behavior, jealousy, alcohol use, briefly dating other people

word count: 10.6k

You have no idea who she is, but you bet she’s a total bitch. Is that mean? Maybe. Do you give a shit? Nope.

To be fair, you’d probably say that about anyone Joel started dating after you, but that doesn’t mean it can’t still be true. Sure, you've never actually talked to her…or seen her before in your entire life, but that’s beside the point. She’s cute and bubbly, and everything you’re not, and that’s the point.

It’s honestly a little comical how different the two of you are, and you can’t help but wonder if Tommy did that on purpose. You know he was the one who set them up. Everyone in the dining hall was talking about it this morning. The latest, hottest piece of gossip, bouncing from table to table like a cruel game of telephone.

He probably thinks he’s protecting his big brother, but you think he needs to mind his own fucking business. It’s not like he knows anything about your relationship, not really. Well. It’s not your relationship anymore, is it? And Tommy, along with everyone else in this town, blames you for that.

Poor Joel, dumped by the biggest bitch in Jackson, who took advantage of his kindness and patience for years, and broke his heart when all he did was love her. Selfish, cold, and uncaring. Nothing like the pretty, perky girl sitting next to him in the booth they’re sharing at Seth’s.

If only they knew what really happened.

The bar is especially busy, even for a Saturday night, so you figure no one’ll notice you blatantly glaring at them. It’s not like you care, anyway. You’re feeling warm and loose, and maybe a little too tipsy for your own good, but tonight, you get to do whatever the fuck you want.

Because Joel’s sitting ten feet away with his arm slung around another woman, and it hurts.

It sucks way worse than him avoiding you since the last time you slept together, after all of the things you did and said on that couch. The things he said. You shoo away the thought with another swig of beer, wishing you were drinking something stronger. It's for the best.

If you get any drunker, you’ll probably end up doing something stupid, and the last thing you need is to prove everyone right that he’s better off without you. But you can’t seem to shake the anger that’s starting to simmer below the surface.

With the emotional toll this night has already taken, you kind of don’t want to. So, you surrender to it. Fuck him. He’s a piece of shit for parading his new girl around right in front of you, and for breaking off your agreement without so much as a word.

If he wanted to see other people, he should’ve opened his mouth and used his big boy words. Then again, he’s always been terrible at that, so why are you surprised?

Maybe he’ll fuck her tonight. Touch her all of the ways you like because that’s all he knows anymore. She’ll moan for him, soft and sweet, gentle in her affection, just like she’s touching him right now. But it won’t satisfy him, and when he’s panting on top of her, chasing that all-consuming release only you can give him, you know he’ll be pretending she's you.

Asshole.

You’re still watching them, shooting daggers from your spot at the bar, when your wish from earlier is granted. Two overflowing shot glasses topped with lime are placed in front of you, and you look up to see a very attractive dark-haired, brown-eyed man smirking down at you.

"Looked a little lonely over here," he says in a raspy baritone even lower than Joel's. He clinks the top of your beer bottle with the bottom of his own. "Thought you could use some company, maybe another drink."

Well, he’s right. You could use some company, and you’d love another drink. There’s no harm in having a little fun, right? If Joel’s doing it, then there’s nothing stopping you.

"So, both of these are for me, then?" you smile coyly, reaching for one. He nods, his own smile widening.

"Could be. Can I join ya?" he gestures to the empty stool next to you.

He has this cocky look on his face like he already knows you'll say yes, and in your inebriated state, you think it's kind of hot. It reminds you of Joel when you first met. How he knew exactly what he wanted and wouldn't give up until it was his. Until you were his.

You consider him for a moment. He’s young, maybe even younger than you, and obviously confident enough to make a move on you. Fleetingly, you think he might end up being that stupid thing you do tonight, but then you down one of the shots and decide you don't actually care.

What turns out to be tequila burns the entire way down, and you immediately pick up a slice of lime. You’re hyperaware of the way his eyes lock onto your mouth as you suck on the sour fruit, lingering when a droplet of juice dribbles down your chin.

It’s not a total surprise when he reaches up to thumb it away, but you are taken off guard by how strange it makes you feel. The pad of his finger is disappointingly smooth, no weathering or even a hint of a callus. You're not sure why that matters to you, but you can take a decent guess.

You chance a glance over at Joel's table and, of course, you have his full attention now. His entire body looks tense, from his hand clenched on the table to the prominent vein bulging angrily in his neck.

Good. Now he knows how it feels.

Looking back up at your mystery guy, you run your tongue along your bottom lip, catching any remaining lime before you finally give him an answer.

"Sure. Pop a squat, cowboy," you giggle. It doesn't even sound like you and feels wrong the second it passes your lips, but as long as Joel heard it, that's all that matters. "You got a name?"

He replies, but you're too busy keeping an eye on Joel in your peripheral to catch what he says. In the back of your mind, you think that’s probably a good thing. You'd rather not know, especially if you do end up taking him home.

Mystery guy laughs at your noncommittal hum and you realize you’ve been caught. But he doesn’t seem upset. It’s clear he’s amused by your obvious interest elsewhere and that piques your curiosity.

Any other guy here would’ve been pissed by your apathy, especially if they’d bothered to buy you a drink that you accepted, but apparently not this one.

He sits down on the stool next to you, pulling it close enough that his knee presses against yours. You unconsciously lean into him, your skin erupting in goosebumps despite your growing unease.

He's...baffling. A total enigma. You can’t figure out what his deal is or why he’s choosing to keep pursuing you when your eyes have been glued to another man all night.

The thought of letting this continue long enough to find out is a little thrilling. Might as well see where this goes. If it escalates, you’re more than confident in your ability to care of yourself.

But it happens sooner than you expect. His hand finds the back of your stool and, then, his lips are suddenly right next to your cheek. You can feel the warmth of them as he tilts his head to whisper in your ear.

“Look, not try'na to overstep, but…,” his eyes dart to where Joel’s sitting, unreservedly ignoring his date. The poor thing barely notices, chattering away about something not nearly as important to him as watching you. His gaze returns to you, and you can feel him smirking. “You wanna make that guy you've been staring at all night jealous?"

That’s—wow. You didn’t see that one coming. He’s got a lot of audacity to assume that’s something you’d want, let alone offer…what? His services?

But, then again, he isn’t wrong. Joel’s been the only thing on your mind since you walked into Seth’s tonight and saw him with her. He’s always on your mind if you’re being totally honest with yourself. It’s plain to see, obvious to every single person in this bar including the man himself.

You eye your mystery guy curiously for a second before nodding, your lips quirking into a small smirk. Maybe it’s time to prove to Joel and everyone else in this judgmental town that you’ve moved on, too. That you’re not the sad, bitter shrew that deserves to be alone.

"Yeah, actually, I do," you reply cautiously. But there's still one lingering question that has yet to be answered. "I just…why? I don’t get why you’re helping me. What are you getting out of this?”

He shrugs, and somehow you can just tell by the look in his eyes that there’s no hidden agenda. You’re not sure how you’re just noticing, but he has kind eyes. This whole time, he’s been nothing but patient and attentive, like Joel always was—...is?

Was.

You almost wish you could fall for someone like this man instead of pathetically clinging to your past. Maybe you’ll at least get a friend out of this crazy night, if nothing else. But then you remember one, tiny problem with that idea.

“Can you tell me your name again? I promise you have my full attention this time,” you smile sheepishly. He chuckles good-naturedly and, again, doesn’t seem to hold it against you.

“It’s Jesse,” he says with a deep, southern drawl you should probably be more attracted to. “And let’s just say I know how it feels to want someone ya can’t have.”

You nod slowly, understanding perfectly. Except—you didn't realize up until this moment that that's exactly what you want. Someone you can't ever have.

And it took seeing Joel with someone else, his body pressed up against a woman that isn't you, to realize it. Well, that fucking sucks.

You decide not to ask about Jesse's situation. It's not your business and, anyway, you're both trying to feel better about your circumstances, not worse.

There’s a silent sense of camaraderie between you that tells you to throw caution to the wind. Tossing back the second shot, you turn your stool to face his, literally and figuratively turning your back on Joel.

“It’s really nice to meet you, Jesse,” you murmur, and you genuinely mean it. He grins, leaning in slowly, still giving you time to back out if you want to, but you don't.

Eat your heart out, Joel Miller. This one's for you.

"S'nice to meet you, too," he replies softly.

Then, his lips are on yours. The kiss is wet and open-mouthed, and yet he handles you so delicately. He cradles your face in his hands as his tongue brushes against yours, and you moan softly into his mouth, letting your body get lost in the way he feels. And he feels so—

Much different than Joel.

All you can think about is how much you miss Joel's rough touch, the way he'd thread his fingers through your hair and tug you into his mouth, nearly devouring you whole. Joel kissed you like every time might be the last, right up until it actually was.

Fucking hell, why can't you just enjoy this without him ruining it for you?

You try to forget about it, about him, licking into Jesse's mouth a little more aggressively, and he groans, his body eager and responsive. It's probably more than you should be doing in public, sitting at a bar surrounded by people but, hell, you want them to see.

They can say whatever they want about you. You're done giving a shit.

And, boy, will they have a lot to talk about after tonight. Joel makes sure of that. It happens so fast, you barely register that Jesse’s lips aren’t on yours anymore like they should be.

One moment, Jesse's hands are trailing down your sides to your waist, and the next, he's being forcibly dragged off you. Between you stands a broad, imposing figure ensuring you stay separated.

Your mind goes blank, and all you can do is watch in shock and disbelief as Joel lets loose on him, his words possessive and almost nonsensical.

"The fuck you think you're doin' touchin' her like that? Y'need to learn how to keep your hands to yourself, kid, before ya get yourself in trouble," he grits out angrily.

To his credit, Jesse stays cool and collected, but it’s not enough. There’s already a few pairs of eyes on you, drawn by the physical altercation, and it won’t be long before the rest of the bar notices the impending fight.

"Respectfully, sir, s'long as the lady consents, I'll put my hands wherever she wants," Jesse replies, standing his ground. He tries to move around him to return to your side, but Joel fixes him with a look that sends a shiver down your spine.

"S'that really a good idea?" Joel sounds menacing and looks even more so the longer the conversation continues.

You’re still numb to everything unfolding in front of you and it’s not until Jesse’s next to you again, snaking an arm around your waist, that you finally come to. The reality of your situation hits you like a ton of bricks and now you’re mad. You open your mouth to retaliate, but Jesse cuts you off before you can get a word in.

“There a reason it wouldn’t be?” he turns the question back on Joel and you tense, anticipating a less-than-friendly answer. Jesse squeezes your hip in reassurance, but it does nothing to soothe your unease. He doesn’t know Joel like you do.

“Kid, do I look like I’m fuckin’ around? Take your hands off her and walk away. M'not gonna tell you again,” he all but growls, taking a threatening step forward.

Neither of you back down. Jesse’s arm stays firm around you as your nails bite into your palm. It's taking everything you've got not to make a bigger scene than you already have.

You knew it. Since the breakup, you’ve been trying to reconcile this increasingly unfamiliar man with the Joel you gave your entire heart to all those years ago. With each passing month, the differences between the two become more and more obvious.

He's angrier now and has so much less patience. It's not that he's unkind. You know that no matter what his circumstances are, Joel will continue to be a good man. But he has a hair trigger, especially when it comes to you.

And he wants. God, he always wants you. It’s not that you didn’t have an active sex life before everything fell apart. He just...fucks you differently now. Possessively and without restraint, like he needs to be sure you're satisfied enough to never need anyone else. The agreement to keep sleeping together was actually his idea. And it worked for a while—until it suddenly didn't.

Now, you're forced to come face-to-face with that reality. Sitting at this bar, you spent the entirety of the night believing he'd decided he didn't want you anymore, that he was ready to find happiness in something simpler than sneaking around with his ex.

Except, it's starting to feel like maybe that's not as true as he made it seem. Like he never should've gone on this date in the first place.

"What the fuck, Joel?" you hiss, fighting to keep your volume under control. Not that it matters. The entire bar is staring at you, their eyes ping-ponging back and forth like they're watching a tennis match. "Back the fuck off. Now. This is none of your business."

"The hell it ain't my business. Some kid's runnin' his hands all over another man's girl and y'think that ain't my business?"

His trembling hands clench into fists at his sides and, while you’re betting the rest of the bar thinks he’s preparing for a fight, that isn’t Joel. It might be you, though, if he keeps this up.

"Excuse me? And whose girl am I—yours? Because I'm pretty sure your girl is sitting over there in that booth. Or did you forget about your date?"

For a moment, he actually has the nerve to look ashamed, like he feels bad about leaving her all alone at their table and for humiliating her in front of all these people. He avoids her crestfallen gaze, likely not ready to face the hurt he’s caused.

But it only lasts for a second before his eyes darken again, focused solely on you. As if Jesse, his pretty date, and everyone else in this bar disappeared, and it's just you and him. This conversation doesn't include them anymore. It's a private matter now.

"We're leavin'," he says with finality, his tone leaving no room for argument.

He should know better. That's not how things work with you. You’re a fighter, a trait he’s always loved about you, even if your ire was directed at him. Back then, it rarely was.

"You're out of your mind if you think I'm leaving with you," you scoff bitterly. "Go back to your date, I'll go back to mine, and we can forget about this. All of it. We're done, Joel."

He shakes his head, mouth tipping down into a frown like he's thinking something over. Then, he huffs out a laugh. Like, an actual laugh, and you start to think maybe he really has lost his mind.

"Y'know, I really don't think we are, darlin'," he drawls dangerously.

He's on you in an instant, his hand wrapped tightly around your arm as he drags you out of the bar. You briefly consider resisting, but he's moving too quickly. All of those shots you downed combined with the beer you drank earlier go straight to your head, and you're suddenly overwhelmingly distracted by the feeling of his skin on yours.

Fuck, it feels like it's been so long. In reality, you know it's only been a few weeks but, god, you missed it. His hands on your body, anywhere at all on your body. You'd hate how quickly you forget about Jesse if you could think about anything else but those familiar, rough fingertips.

The way they dig into you, reminiscent of how he'd squeeze your thighs or clutch your waist when he was making love to you.

...Wait, what? No...no, fuck. Why is he making this so difficult? Why—Christ...why can't you just leave each other alone? If he never planned on letting you go, he shouldn't have broken up with you. And if he still wanted you this badly...all he had to do was ask. You would've said yes in a heartbeat.

So, you let him steal you away, out into the brisk, wintry air that does little to cool your fury or the heat beginning to coil in your belly. The door shuts noisily behind you, and you immediately wrench your arm out of his grasp before he can say a word. It's your turn to talk now.

"What is wrong with you? You can't just...fuck, you can't do shit like this!" You're seething, practically shaking in your rage, and his expression doesn't look much different.

"And you can? I dunno what the hell you were thinkin' gettin’ cozy with some goddamn kid, lettin’ him touch ya like that in front of the whole town," he reiterates harshly. He's starting to sound like a broken record. It's the only leverage he's got, and you both know it's flimsy at best.

"Some kid? Jesse's a fucking adult, clearly more mature than you," you bite back. "And it’s a bar, Joel. That's what people do at bars."

Joel scoffs, and you can tell he hates the way Jesse's name falls from your lips. Especially when those lips were on yours not even ten minutes ago.

"And who are you to decide who can and can't touch me? You broke up with me," you continue resentfully. "You don't get a say anymore."

At that, his face becomes unreadable. He didn't need the reminder, and you know that, but it needed to be said for both of your sakes. Sometimes you think maybe he actually forgets it was his choice to give you up. That he didn't realize his decision would hurt you as much as it hurt him.

"So, what? You gonna take him home then, let him fuck ya?" He leans in close, so close you can feel his soft, graying curls against your temple and the coarse drag of his beard across your cheek.

"Kiss ya here—," a finger trails delicately down the side of your neck to his spot above your collarbone, then continues down to where you've been aching for him for weeks, "—taste ya here."

You slap his hand away before he can get any further, but your reaction only spurs him on. How could you forget? He likes that.

"Y'know he can't make ya feel as good as I do. Fuck you just how y'like it, make ya cum as hard as I do," he drawls confidently, almost smugly, in your ear. "Don't ya?"

It's less a question than a statement, because you both know he's right. Joel knows your body better than anyone ever has, maybe even better than you know it yourself. Just as much as you know his. And it's sort of funny. You were thinking the exact same thing about him with his date earlier.

"Sure, Joel. Just like you were gonna take that girl home, right?" You raise an eyebrow, turning your head so your lips graze his skin. "Pretty little thing like her, I bet she likes it slow and romantic. She’ll probably even stick around for a snuggle and some pillow talk. You'd love that.”

Even as you mock him, the sneer marring your face doesn’t quite meet your eyes, and the spiteful nature of your words tastes acrid as they pass your lips. He’s so good at that. Always able to bring out the worst in you to prove his point—that he’s no good for you.

But you stand firm, your chest pressed flush against his in a show of determination. You're still in control here, unlike Joel, whose fingers are twitching noticeably at his sides like he's just itching to get his hands on you again.

"Maybe I would. Liked it with you, didn't I?" he murmurs wistfully, and that catches you completely off guard.

His words are almost too gentle to belong in this argument, and it doesn’t feel fair. What's worse, he looks like he means them. You’d prefer the fight, the aggression of the man who dragged you out of the bar. Not this. Not these traces of your Joel.

You can already feel your resolve slipping, and the rapid thrum of your heartbeat tells you to let it. When his hands finally take their rightful place on your waist, he’s in control again.

The cool evening air is suddenly stifling, and you’re starting to feel like you’re suffocating, your thoughts a jumbled, heated haze of anger and fear and want. He squeezes hard enough to pull your hips into his and you unintentionally buck, allowing his hands to travel up your shirt.

There's an intensity to his gaze, tinged with an unexpected tenderness. He almost looks...sated. Fulfilled, now that you're back in his arms. But not completely, not yet.

"You still haven't answered my question," he mutters. His hands splay across your ribcage, high enough for his thumbs to tease the undersides of your breasts.

You bite down hard on your bottom lip, sliding your hands up his chest to push him away so you can catch your breath, but your body won't cooperate. It's been well-trained to crave his touch. Exhaling sharply through your nose, you fist his shirt and instead pull him impossibly closer.

"You asked a lot of questions tonight. You're gonna have to be a little more specific,” you pant heavily.

It's getting more difficult to think, now, with the warmth of his body against you, his thumbs shifting higher to stroke your stiffening nipples. He urges your hips forward again to meet his, and you can already feel him straining in his jeans.

You whimper helplessly, unable to curb the way your body's reacting to him, and the soft sound causes something in him to snap. He suddenly backs you up against the hard brick of the bar's exterior and begins to grind languidly into your stomach.

"Y'really believe that boy can take care of a woman like you? Hm?" He interrogates you, his voice gravelly and uneven in your ear. "Tell me I'm the only one who can give you what ya need. Wanna hear ya say it."

Fuck, you can't lie to him. As much as you want to, it's just one more thing your body won't allow you to do. Not when he's working you up like this.

"You're the only one," you moan around your admission. He's still crowding you into the wall, his hands greedily roaming your soft curves.

His eyes meet yours, darting quickly to your mouth before he leans in to kiss you passionately like he’s rewarding you. It only lasts for a second, one deliciously fleeting second, before he pulls away. You’re not sure why you let him. Or why you kissed back.

"Who's the only man who can make ya scream?" he demands a little more urgently.

"You, Joel,” you murmur obediently, your lips already parted and ready for your prize.

And he acquiesces—another insistent kiss that doesn’t last nearly long enough. This time, you chase him, but he jerks his head back. He still has one last question for you. Except, this time, he looks afraid of the answer.

"Whose girl are ya?"

He whispers it so softly, you barely catch it over the whistling, nighttime breeze. As he brushes a few ruffled strands of hair behind your ear, you answer without hesitation.

"Yours, Joel."

His entire body relaxes. Now, he's complete.

"Damn right, you are—"

Then, the front door bursts open next to you, and he's abruptly cut off. Joel is quick to tug you around the corner into the alleyway before anyone can spot you, but he's not fast enough to keep you from seeing who just left the bar.

Jesse.

And there it is. A shock to the system, enough to clear some of that smoky, nostalgic haze and bring you back to the present. But as everything hurtles back for the second time tonight, this time around, you can’t be mad because he’s right.

Of course, you're not Jesse's girl. As pathetic as it sounds, you'll always be Joel's because he’s the only one who can take care of you and give you what need. The only man who can make you scream. But that goes both ways.

Even though he’s been picking fights all night, he hasn’t raised his voice once. It's not the way he wins his battles. So, maybe it's time to remind Joel Miller that there is someone who can make him scream. But he isn't allowed to unless you say so.

It all feels eerily familiar—his fingers digging into your waist and your lips crashing into his hard enough to bruise. You lead him deeper into the alley, back to where the glow of the string lights above the bar can't reach you, before you separate from him.

Neither of you wants to be the one to say it, but it needs to be heard. Here, in the dark, you can be his completely, but once you part ways and return to your empty beds, that's it. Just like last time. The reasons for your breakup are still very real, and that means your relationship can't be.

"Only here. Right, Joel?"

He stays silent for a moment, his gaze filled with deep longing and sadness. It almost makes you want to take it back. Take him back. So, when he shakes his head and cups your cheeks, kissing you like this might be his last chance, you're not surprised in the slightest.

And after this whole night—this whole confusing, fucked-up night—you let him. Right now, he needs this. Maybe you do, too.

His lips taste like whiskey and relief, and you return his kiss with all of the passion and fervor he’s pouring into you. You’re both a little frantic in the way you touch each other, but as much as you don’t want it to, it makes perfect sense.

Those few weeks without each other felt like years, and now that his hands are back on your body and his voice, deep and dulcet, is in your ear telling you how badly he wants you, you don’t want to let him go again.

You grind the heel of your hand into the front of his jeans and his responding groan pleases you more than it probably should. This. This is yours—his pleasure, his attention, him. They belong to you and you alone. Not his pretty, perky fucking date.

The sudden possessiveness stuns you for a moment, but it's not enough to stop the feeling from consuming you. This must be how it feels for Joel. It's potent and feels so, so…right. You're starting to think you've felt this way for a while.

"I needed you, and you made me wait so fucking long," you gasp against his lips, and the fingers cradling your face tense. You’re still fisting his shirt, nearly hard enough to tear, and you wrench it up from where it’s tucked into his pants.

"M'sorry, darlin', I know. I know I did,” he rasps back, following your lead and dropping his hands from your cheeks so he can unbuckle his jeans. “M'gonna make it up to ya. Tell me what you want, I’ll give it to ya.”

You want everything. Everything he has to give, you want it all. After everything you've been through, the hurt he caused you, you deserve it. And right now, what you want is for him to feel so good, he'll never go on a date with someone who isn't you ever again.

Sharp gravel bites into your bare skin as you drop to your knees in front of him. He's already so hard under all that heavy fabric and looks desperate above you. Just as desperate as you are for him to replace the flavor of Jesse's tequila and lime on your tongue with something saltier and headier, and undeniably Joel.

You hastily unbutton and unzip his jeans, not wasting any more of the precious time you have left together, before tugging them down just enough to free his cock and balls. He looks...fucking mouth-watering—flushed and red and leaking, and so goddamn thick. You wrap your hand around him and he sighs gratefully, dribbling precum onto your fingers.

"This is what I want," you finally reply, keeping your eyes locked on his as you lean forward to lick a broad line up his cock. He hisses in a breath through his teeth, his thighs already beginning to tremble, and you brace your hand on one. "But you're gonna be quiet, okay? I'm gonna suck your cock and you're not gonna make a single sound."

His expression darkens, but he agrees to your terms, nonetheless.

"Sure, darlin'. Whatever you say," he nods, gazing down at you with furrowed brows. He cradles your face in his hand and brushes his thumb along your cheekbone.

The affectionate gesture isn't lost on you, but this time you accept it. Instinctively leaning into his touch, you revel in it for a brief moment before his cock pulsing a frantic rhythm against your palm becomes an unignorable distraction. But a welcome one.

"That's my boy," you mumble against the tip. Just as a pained noise escapes his parted lips, you swallow him down as far as you can take him, purposely gagging yourself on him before you can dwell on the words that accidentally just tumbled out.

Your boy. Your boy. It echoes in your mind, ricocheting wildly and painfully like a bullet. Before you can take it back, maybe even to keep you from taking it back, he buries his fingers in your hair and holds you in place. You choke around him, trying your best to breathe through your nose, but in doing so, you take in a lungful of the heady musk at his base.

The familiarity of it all sends you reeling. He only gives you a second to adjust before he's fucking into your mouth and biting back a litany of needy sounds that rival your own wet, audible gagging. Your grip on his thigh tightens as your throat relaxes, allowing you to take him deeper, and you can feel yourself clenching around nothing every time he grazes the back of your throat.

Tears stream down your cheeks and he wipes them away with a much too tender swipe of his thumb, even as he continues to force you up and down his cock. But you're too lost in your pleasure to notice anymore. So fucking good, you feel so, so good. But you need more, and you're not willing to pull off of him just yet.

Tugging down the front of your shirt, you roll a sensitive nipple between your fingers, and, god, that helps. You imagine they're Joel's and it amplifies the sensation, though your fingertips are still too smooth and delicate. Then, they're replaced by exactly what you've been yearning for all night.

“You don’t even know how beautiful y'look like this,” he grits out, his fingers running through your hair with one hand and roughly cupping your breast with the other. His hips stutter, and you moan around him. “Fuckin’ perfect. How are ya so fuckin’ perfect?”

Beautiful. More beautiful than her? Well, you must be, because you’re the one here on your knees, choking on his cock, and she’s still sitting in the bar wondering if her date will ever come back.

He won’t.

You preen without meaning to, your eyes blearily finding his while you drool around him, dripping saliva down his balls and onto your bare breasts. It's as if the visual alone has him thrusting into your mouth faster, pushing your limits only as much as he knows you can take. You must look like a wet dream right now, his wet dream, with your watery eyes and swollen, split-slick lips wrapped tightly around him.

Yet, he's remained so, so quiet this entire time, just like you told him to. Joel likes his sex loud, regardless of where you are and who might hear, so if he’s following your rules, that means something.

It means he'll do whatever it takes to have you. The realization crashes over you like a bucket of ice water, and then you're pulling off of him.

“You’ll give me anything, right? Anything I want?” your voice cracks around the question, wrecked from the effort of taking him. His hips chase your hand as you continue to pump him, matching his previous, unforgiving pace.

“That ain’t a question, y’know I will,” he replies breathily and without hesitation.

You gaze up at him, praying your eyes convey all of the need and anguish and hope you've felt since the last time you slept together. Since the last time you were his.

“Fuck me," and you won't accept anything less than his all. Not that half-assed shit he would've given her. "Fuck me."

He understands. His heart rate kicks up, thrumming wildly against the palm of your hand, and you know he does.

The growl that rumbles through his chest is nearly soundless but powerful. An entire night's worth of tension culminating in a single exhaled breath, just before he drags you up and spins you around, bending you over against the wall.

Bracing yourself on the harsh brick, you rush to give him better access, arching your back as he tugs your pants and underwear down to your knees. A callused hand runs upward, following the notches of your spine, while his other spreads across your waist, pulling your hips back onto his so you can feel him, heavy and leaking against your bare ass.

God, he’s so close to where you need him now. His knuckles graze your skin as he grips the base, pumping himself before the blunt head of his cock nudges your entrance.

But then, for some godforsaken reason, you feel a wave of panic. Time suddenly feels like it's running out, worsening with every subtle movement he makes. The ticking clock of your and Joel's relationship, perpetually stuck at two minutes to midnight, has sprung to life and that terrifies you.

You don't want him to stop—fuck, you don't want him to stop, but you know neither of you will last long once he's inside you. The build-up was too intense and this entire night has you both wound up so tight, you could snap at any moment.

You need to savor this. The way you failed to on your couch all those weeks ago, and might not get to ever again.

“Slow,” you tell him over your shoulder, and it's equal parts a command and a plea. If this is the last time, then you want to feel it. Every thick inch of him, while he still belongs to you. “Just…go slow.”

He nods, shifting forward almost imperceptibly so he can watch your lashes flutter as you brace for the stretch.

"Don't need’ta tell me. I know how ya like it," he replies gruffly.

He does. For now, you won’t overthink it or let yourself get lost in the nostalgia of his cock nestled inside you. You’ll just enjoy it. Sex with Joel has always been mind-blowing, and here, in a dirty alleyway, pressed up against the exterior of a bar, you bet it’ll be life-changing.

It stings like it always does when he breaches your entrance, no matter how wet you are for him. Together, you hiss in a sharp breath, mutually adjusting to the overwhelming stretch that quickly ebbs into something addictive.

"Tight as all goddamn hell," he mutters to himself, rocking into you languidly. He takes his time, relishing your walls enveloping him, mesmerized by the way you suck him in until he's buried to the hilt.

"Would'ja look at that," he continues in awe, tracing where his cock is forcing you to yield to him. "Greedy fuckin' pussy, ain't she? M'not goin' anywhere, don't'chu worry. Gonna take care of ya...make ya feel so fuckin' good..."

He's starting to babble. Not good. Not good at all.

Broad hands grip your ass, pulling your cheeks apart so he can see how tightly you’re gripping him, and it's too much. His hips buck, startling a pained whine out of you as he rams into that spot. The one deep inside you he can only reach when he’s fucking you from behind. Your cunt clenches, fighting to keep him there, and he growls low in his throat, hungry and territorial like a wild animal.

"There it is," he nudges it again, purposefully this time. You barely manage to bite back a sob as you gush messily around him. "Christ, honey, y'sure ya still want it slow? 'Cus it sure don't sound like it."

He's patronizing you. He knows exactly what he's doing—that's his spot. He also knows it makes you loud as fuck. But he wouldn’t. There’s no way he’d go back on his word, not after he promised he’d be discreet.

"Joel. Don't," you warn him shakily, but you're already too far gone to be intimidating.

He pulls out until just the tip is still inside you, huffing out a distinctly calculated breath.

"Don't what? Don't make ya cum nice and loud on my cock? 'Fraid I can't do that, darlin'."

That's all the warning you get before he slams in hard. Your jaw drops, and you're positive you couldn't have stopped the wail punched out of your chest even if you'd tried.

Wrong. You’re wrong again, and you should’ve known better. It’s not the first time he’s gone back on his word, remember? Joel’s shitty lack of communication is why you’re here in the first place. Sure, he agreed to be quiet, but he never said anything about you.

He establishes a brutal pace that has you scrabbling against the wall for purchase and slapping a hand over your mouth in a futile attempt to muffle the desperate cries being forced from your body.

Please, don’t be outside. Please, please, Jesse. Don’t still be outside.

But your luck's officially run out.

Heavy mahogany crashes into solid brick, echoing down the alleyway, and a raucous group of people spills out onto the street, barely 30 feet from where your ass and tits are out for anyone to see. Then, the deep baritone of Jesse's voice cuts through the rest, and your blood immediately turns to ice.

You're fucked. You're about to get caught and expose your secret to the entire town, except...Joel isn't stopping. Fuck, he's—

Yanking your entire body up and ripping your hand away from your mouth, rutting into you like he was just waiting for an audience. He snakes a hand up your stomach to palm at your chest, squeezing firmly to anchor himself as he fucks up into you with all the force he can muster.

And it turns you on so much, you finally stop caring. Fuck it. Fuck this town. Fuck everyone in that bar who made you feel like a goddamn pariah for months, crucifying you for the unforgivable sin of getting your heart broken.

You hope his date's standing out there, too, so she can hear everything she'll never get to have. So they can all see that Joel Miller isn't the crushed, cruelly dumped old man they all thought he was.

Your moans ring out, loud and high-pitched, all but drowning out the messy slap of his hips into the drenched curve of your ass.

"That's it, darlin', let it all out," he chuckles darkly against the shell of your ear. Your next moan tapers into a drawn-out keen that he mimics, his thrusts getting shallow and sloppy. "S'for me, right? Let 'em know you're makin' all those pretty noises just for me."

Christ, you're close. And he's as close as you are, you can feel it. You turn your head, nodding jerkily into his shoulder.

"S'for you, Joel—mmph, just for you. Only for you," your words slur as he continues to bounce you on his cock.

"Tell 'em you're mine, darlin’. Not just here," he pants raggedly, desperation coating his words. "Everywhere. You're mine everywhere."

The voices are getting closer, about to pass the mouth of the alley, and the ice in your veins quickly thaws, turning to molten lava. They'll definitely be able to able to hear you, but can they see you? For the umpteenth time tonight, you decide you really don't give a shit. You've got none left. You and Joel, that's all that matters now.

His hand drops between your legs, thick fingers swirling tight, slick circles into your clit while he waits for you to confirm what he already knows. You've said it again and again—weeks ago, wrapped up in his arms, and earlier tonight, after the worst argument you've had since the breakup.

And you’ll tell him again in this alley as you cum blindingly hard around his cock. Third time's the charm.

"Y-yours, Joel. I'm always yours."

His hips completely lose their rhythm, and he barely has time to breathe out his contentment before the violent convulsing of your cunt and contrasting serenity of your words send him hurtling over the edge.

"That's my girl."

He crashes his lips into yours, swallowing every noise you make as the group finally comes into view. Their drunken chattering and roughhousing aren't enough to draw your attention away from each other, but the depraved sounds of Joel continuing to fuck you through your release captures theirs almost immediately.

A few of them stop to squint into the darkness, trying their best to pinpoint what everyone already knows is happening further down the alley. As they inch closer, they can just barely make out two connected figures, and the wind carrying muffled gasps and labored breathing with it into the street all but confirms it.

"Y'all seein' this?" they whisper amongst themselves, but in the inebriated state they're in, they might as well be yelling.

And that's what pulls you and Joel back to reality. Shit. Shit. So, this is it, then. You tense in Joel's arms, waiting to get called out as the slutty girl who seduced her ex away from his date. Hell, they're not even wrong. You can feel his cum dribbling out of you, and can't help but think maybe you'd deserve it.

From where you're standing, you recognize each and every one of their faces under the string lights, and you know damn well that none of them can keep their mouths shut. Except...wait a second. They're still glancing back and forth between you and Joel in the shadows and each other.

Oh. The fucking shadows. None of them can see shit. They have no clue who the hell they're looking at. Joel must've caught on around the same time you did, because now he's backing up, putting more distance between you and the looming crowd. Before they can get any closer, one of the younger guys cuts in front to block their path.

“C’mon, it's probably a couple’a teenagers. Just let ‘em be," he drawls, glancing back at you. Your eyes lock, and you're suddenly so grateful, you could cry. It's Jesse. He shoots you a wink before turning back to the group, shaking his head in mock admonishment. "Don't act like y'all weren't doin' the same damn thing at their age."

By some miracle, it fucking works. They all laugh in agreement, appeased by Jesse's quick thinking. One by one, they follow each other out of the alley and back onto the road to continue their original path home. Jesse lingers.

"Glad y'all figured things out," he calls out over his shoulder, giving you privacy to tug your shirt back up. He clears his throat awkwardly before continuing, "Look, I, uh...distracted as many people as I could from comin' over here, but if y'all were gonna be that loud, maybe you should'a figured things out at home."

Jesse shakes his head again, chuckling to himself as he shoves his hands into his pockets.

"Anyway, y'all have a good night, now. Get home safe."

As he jogs away to catch up with the rest of the group, you start to laugh, too. You can’t help it. It feels cathartic, relieving some of the tension of this overly eventful night.

Joel’s body begins to shake behind you, his chest rumbling with what you realize is deep-bellied laughter. It gradually increases in volume as it melds seamlessly with yours; transitory, white clouds of condensation that intertwine, then dissipate.

You feel him slip out as he starts to soften, and then he turns you to face him, carefully crowding you into the wall. He kisses you again, this time slow and deliberate like you asked him to earlier. His tongue meets yours, gasps exchanged and treasured like you have all the time in the world.

When he parts from you, it feels reluctant, but he stays close, whispering his next words against your lips.

“M’gonna get ya cleaned up, alright?” he mumbles, dropping his arm from around your waist to run his fingers up the cum leaking down your thighs. You shiver as they continue up, slipping his release back inside you. “Don’t…,” he continues, squeezing his eyes shut as his forehead drops to yours, “…just—don’t go anywhere. Please. I’ll be right back.”

Maybe he’s trying to protect himself from the response he anticipates you’ll give him, but that seems silly after everything you’ve been through tonight. You cup his cheek and thumb the coarse, trimmed hairs of his beard, willing him to open his eyes. He does, hesitantly, one then the other, and you offer him a soft smile.

“I’m not going anywhere, Joel.”

An intoxicating breath fans across your face, and the taut muscles in his neck and shoulders loosen. His lips match the soft quirk of your own and, then, brush fleetingly against your cheekbone as he backs away and disappears through a metal side door you didn't notice before. The moment it clicks shut, you slump against the wall.

Christ. Your mind is simultaneously blank and racing a mile a minute. Taking a deep breath, you let your head thunk into solid, grounding brick while you wait for even a single coherent thought to take root. What now? What happens next?

There's no coming back from tonight. You both made choices you'll have to answer for, but, for some reason, that doesn't seem so scary anymore. The clock is ticking, but there's time. Plenty of it.

You're still lost in your reverie when Joel gets back with a thick wad of damp paper towels. You snort at the idea of him suddenly appearing in Seth's kitchen and having to explain himself, but maybe the racket you kicked up right outside his door was explanation enough.

"Seth didn't give you any shit for stealing his stuff?" you ask as Joel drops to his knees and coaxes one of your legs over his shoulder.

The cold air has already started to leach the warmth from the paper towels, and they feel cool as he slides them along your soiled skin. He huffs out a laugh.

"Nah, the kitchen was empty. Think they're startin' to close up for the night."

When he finishes your first thigh, he surprises you by leaning in to press a soft kiss against your freshly cleaned skin. He nips at you teasingly before starting on the next one.

You hum in response, threading your fingers through his hair and watching fondly as he pays careful attention to his task. He continues to wipe away his drying release, trailing his lips down your thigh as he goes, until he finishes at your knee.

He gazes up at you with a charmingly crooked grin, and that’s when it finally slips out. The single coherent thought you’ve been waiting for.

“I love you, Joel,” you murmur, brushing your fingertips across his cheek.

His smile falters. Then, it drops completely and your heart shatters. You don’t understand. But that—no. No, it doesn’t make any fucking sense. After everything that’s happened, how could you have been wrong again?

Joel sighs, grimacing as he slowly gets back up. He braces himself on one knee, clearly aching more than he's letting on, but when you reach down to offer him a hand, he refuses your help.

“S’fine, I got it. Just…,” he gestures to your jeans, still hanging loosely around your knees. You pull them up, fighting not to feel humiliated as he rises to his full height.

You search his eyes for…something. Anything. Any indication of what he’s feeling right now, but they’re blank. Cold and distant, just like they were the night he left you.

No. He doesn’t get to do this to you again. Not after everything you’ve been through. Not without an explanation. Not if he doesn’t want to lose you forever.

“Tell me why you broke up with me."

For a long time, you genuinely believed you could live without knowing the truth, but somewhere along the line, it began to eat away at you. Now, you want the real reason. He owes you that, at the very least.

You wait while he either works himself up to it or tries to figure out what bullshit to tell you this time. Once his hands settle on his hips, you know with absolute certainty it's the latter.

“Darlin’…,” he starts wearily, but you shoot him a look that stops him in his tracks. He doesn't get to call you that right now, and he knows it. Pausing, he nods grimly before beginning again. "We already talked about this. I’m no good for ya. It was only a matter of time before ya woke up one day and realized it for yourself.”

There it is. That same bullshit reason. You scoff bitterly, not surprised in the slightest.

“What the fuck does that even mean, Joel? We were together for years. If that was gonna happen, don’t you think it would’ve already?" you counter angrily.

You're trying not to get emotional. This can't be a repeat of what happened last time, but it's dragging up too many painful memories. It's always the same fight. You can't do this anymore.

"You know what? Fuck you," you seethe as your self-control slips completely. "Fuck you for making that decision for me. You had no right."

At your words, his face crumples and he has the nerve to look ashamed. Maybe even a little hurt. His pained expression makes your heart ache, yet a nastier part of you believes it's only fair that he feels this way, too. He sighs, his eyes dropping wistfully to his feet.

“I did what I thought was best," he mumbles quietly as if he doesn't want to be heard. It's hard for him to say this out loud, and you realize it's because he's finally telling you the truth. "I just…I thought you’d be happier with someone else, someone who could give ya a family. Kids. I gave you up so you could have the life ya always wanted."

You eye him incredulously. The life you always wanted? Sure, you and Joel had toyed with the idea of having a family once upon a time, but that was never a dealbreaker. He should've known that. He should've brought it up before deciding to destroy your life together over an idealized fantasy.

“Oh, here we go. Joel, the fucking savior. Mr. Fix-It, swooping in to save everyone and solve every problem," you hurl back venomously. But it was a cruel thing to say, and you immediately hate yourself for it.

Rationally, you know his intentions were kind. He probably even thought he was being selfless. But he hurt you, and, through your tunnel vision, that's all you can see. You push yourself off the wall, stalking closer to where he stands, still refusing to look at you.

"So what, you thought you’d dump me and I’d immediately shack up with some other asshole? Is that really what you think of me?”

His eyes shoot up to yours and his fingers begin to tap restlessly at his sides. Now, you've pissed him off.

“Don't go puttin’ words in my mouth. That ain’t true and you fuckin’ know it," he all but growls, his body shaking with a turbulent combination of frustration and adrenaline.

You're starting to feel it, too. This conversation is overwhelming both of you, but he still hasn't told you everything. There's a piece missing, keeping all of his disjointed reasonings from adding up. He's holding back and it's time for him to stop.

“Then what is, Joel?" you plead with him to give you a definitive answer. One that finally explains why you had to lose everything. Ellie, your home. The love of your life. "What’s the truth?"

Then, everything he's kept bottled up inside and allowed to poison his happiness claws its way out as a single, unwavering statement.

“I’m too fuckin’ old for you!”

The silence that follows his admission is deafening. You watch in shock as he runs a hand through his hair in frustration. He's never yelled like that before or looked so defeated. By something as innocuous as his age.

It isn't something you'd ever considered, not before your relationship and never once during. But he did. His bottom lip starts to tremble as he turns and takes a few steps away from you.

“Every day, I’d watch ya…offerin’ to take more shifts, spendin’ time at the school with Ellie and the kids," he says softly, shaking his head as he works through his next words. "And every day, I’d feel it. My body givin’ out on me, more and more. My blood pressure’s up, my goddamn knees are creakin’. Couldn’t even fuckin’ stand up on my own just now."

When he turns back to you, his eyes are wet with unshed tears. He feels too far, but you know you can't go to him, yet. He's not finished.

"You can do better than that. You deserve better than that," his voice cracks and your whole world blurs into a wash of colors. “You’re gonna outlive me by a mile. I’m an old man, darlin’. It wasn’t fair for me to keep ya.”

For a while, you just watch each other. Tears overflow and continuously spill down his cheeks and yours, but neither of you moves to wipe them away.

None of this is fair. You're both miserable and heartbroken, perpetually yearning for a love you've told yourselves you can't have. Months ago, Joel made a choice for both of you. You won't make the same mistake he did.

"I didn't want fair, Joel. I wanted you. A life with you...," your face screws up as you fight back a sob, "...the rest of my life with you, however long that is."

Joel takes a tentative step forward, carefully reaching out to touch you, but stops himself before he can get too close. He looks afraid...of you. Scared of the consequences of allowing you back into his heart.

A sob escapes your chest, then, and you wrap your arms around yourself, suddenly bitterly cold and wanting nothing more than for Joel to hold you. To tell you for the first time since the breakup that he loves you and, regardless of time, won't ever stop.

So, you cross the alleyway and cup his wet cheeks in your hands, wiping away his sadness and, hopefully, his fears. He melts into the poignant familiarity of your touch and it makes you brave. This time, you'll be brave enough for both of you.

"Don't I deserve that?" you whisper, close enough to share his next breath. He watches your lips, hanging onto your every word. "Don't you?"

His eyes meet yours, and it finally happens. The moment Joel gives in and decides to let himself be happy. He nods slowly in your grasp, reaching up to cradle your hand on his cheek.

"Dunno what I deserve, darlin'. Not after the things I've done and the hurt I put ya through. But if I'm...if this is really what ya want...," he hesitates, his voice thick with tears and, yet, still that full-bodied, twang that sounds like home. "I'm yours. 'Til my last breath, I'm yours."

He kisses you before either of you can start crying again, and it's all there. The love he kept under lock and key to protect you, released from the prison of his own making.

His kiss feels different again. There's no hunger or rush, and the possessiveness—the need to devour everything you have to give so there's nothing left for anyone else—is gone. He's sure, now, that there's no one else you'd rather give yourself to.

His arms circle your waist and he pulls you closer, crushing you into time-worn chambray and sullied denim as you continue to explore each other like a pair of horny teenagers. Two lovers learning to give and take for the first time. Time passes slowly in this space you've carved out for yourselves, even as the moon continues to rise in the night sky and floods the corridor with light.

Then, noisily and as if right on cue, the last-call crowd stumbles from the bar and immediately catches what the previous group missed. You and Joel separate, dazed but unhurried, to find that it's them.

It has to be fucking kismet that, of everyone in Jackson, the first to witness your reconciliation would be the biggest blabbermouths in the entire town. The same women who talked shit about you every day for months and constantly vied for Joel's attention, standing there with wide eyes and slack jaws.

Their varied expressions almost make you want to laugh, and you can't help but snort unattractively into Joel's shoulder. Half of them are glaring at you, and the rest look either devastated or genuinely surprised. Guess you were better at hiding your arrangement than you thought, not that it matters anymore. It's a relationship again, and everyone's about to know all about it. Joel clears his throat, drawing their attention back to him.

"Evenin', ladies. S'there somethin' we can help ya with?" he drawls, breaking out the Southern charm that endeared every single one of them to him in the first place.

They all shake their heads, looking a little too pleased with themselves once the initial shock wears off and they realize you've just given them the gossip of the century. After a few fake, high-pitched pleasantries, they slink away as quickly as they came, already chatting to themselves about some shit you'll definitely hear tomorrow at breakfast. You watch them go, feeling oddly liberated.

"Guess the cat's outta the bag, huh?" You wrap your arms loosely around his neck, still chuckling softly to yourself. Joel huffs out a laugh, too, bending down to kiss the crown of your head before nodding in agreement.

"'Fraid so," he muses, amusement and a hint of something lighter glinting in his eyes.

You haven't seen him this relaxed in a long time. As he holds you in his arms, he leans a fraction of his weight on you to ease the night's strain on his back and knees, and it makes you feel needed. Relied on. That's new, Joel depending on you like this. Things are going to be different this time around, you can tell. They already are.

You hum, ruminating on what awaits you after your first night back in your own bed, in your own home. What everyone will think and say—to your face and behind your back—when they find out you're back together. Though, the only opinions you give a shit about are Ellie, Tommy, and Maria's, anyway.

So, yeah, you're a lot of things right now: exhausted, yet relieved and so full of hope. But you're not afraid, the cat and the bag be damned.

"I'm not," you tell him honestly as you pull away. You let your hands trail from his shoulders, down his arms, until his hands are in yours.

Tugging gently, you walk him backward out of the alley, away from the bar and plummeting winter chill, and any lingering, prying eyes. Even the moon and stars have no stake in what comes next. This moment, right here and now, belongs to you and Joel, alone.

"Take me home, Joel."

The light in his eyes burns brighter, amusement giving way to adoration and contentment. He's been waiting for this, to be given the privilege of keeping you safe and taking care of you the way he needs to—it's how he shows love.

He slots his fingers between yours and leads you down the empty streets of Jackson.

"Darlin', nothin' would make me happier."

thanks for reading!

#joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller smut #joel miller angst #the last of us fanfiction #tlou fanfiction #pedro pascal characters

2K notes · View notes

rinskazuu · 2 years ago

Text

their voice lines about you, as their lover!

just my fav characters^^

INSPIRED BY @fatuismooches and their “harbingers’ voicelines about you.” they did so well, i loved it. y’all should go check it out!

xiao, itto, tighnari, ayato, ningguang, sara, yanfei, childe, diluc, zhongli, kaeya, beidou, cyno, & al haitham x gn!reader

implied that reader is an immortal/non mortal being in xiao & zhongli's.

cw: fluff. use of they/them pronouns. pet names: you’re mostly referred to as their “lover”, and “my darling” in 2 of them. some of them are slightly ooc, but i already put it in parentheses. i tried my best!

a/n: this is my very first post here, and im kinda nervous because even tho ive been writing for a long time, im still rlly insecure of my work. i removed a couple characters cus it got too long.. but if you guys like it, ill make a part two<3

hsr version

edit: please excuse my punctuation, especially the improper use of the commas and lack of oxford commas. (this is an edit made after a LONG time since this was posted)

♡

XIAO

about [name]:

“hm? you want to know about [name]? well… there’s not much to say. what? i’m not blushing!”

chat: meals

“personally, the idea of human cuisine doesn’t delight me much. food isn’t necessary for an adepti but, i do enjoy [name]’s cooking quite a lot. they make the best almond tofu.”

chat: stress

xiao lets out a deep sigh, “[name] is too careless. and while they have such a big heart, they take too many dangerous commissions. on more than one occasion, i had to find them myself, just to see them injured. they claim they didn't call my name, because they don’t want to become a burden but, i… ah, never mind.”

chat: bonds

“hm… [name] and i have known each other for centuries. it really does make me happy seeing them and morax together. ah? he goes by zhongli now…?”

chat: flowers

“flowers? such a distraction... i pay no mind to them. but, i have heard from many mortals that, people in relationships do cherish such gifts. should i pick some for [name]?”

♡

ITTO

about [name]:

“[name]?! you’ve met [name]? they’re so cool right? they’re my best bro, my everything, my one and only! tell me, has [name] said anything about me to you? they said they love me? oh! hm? my cheeks? THEY’RE NOT TURNING RED, it’s just the paint…”

chat: onikabuto

“yeah, i’m the best and number 1 at onikabuto fighting! i always win! well, except when i fight with [name]. somehow, they always win, i don’t know how! they never let me in on their secret too. one day, they will tell me.”

chat: jail

“[name] is great. they bail me out all the time. really, i’m so grateful to have them! they’re fit to be the leader of the arataki gang but, nobody can be the leader except me, arataki itto.”

chat: picnics

“[name] and i always go out for picnics, and then we have an onikabuto fight. even though they always win, i’m happy to be spending time with them. but, you gotta be careful, last time, i spilled some of the juice and [name] got a bit angry. huh? what do you mean i don’t seem like a picnic guy?”

chat: horns

“yeah these babies are painted! i usually paint them but sometimes, [name] helps me cover the spots i can’t. they’re so good at it too. is there anything they’re not good at?”

♡

TIGHNARI

about [name]:

“you’ve met my wonderful lover, i see. yes, [name] often helps around gandharva ville. they do visit frequently, even though they reside in sumeru city.”

chat: sadness

tighnari sighs, “i do miss [name] a lot. i know they come often but, with them being busy working for the akademiya, it does get a little lonely without their presence during the night.”

chat: views

“hm, i’d say gandharva ville has some of the best views in all of sumeru! i take [name] to some of these places and, it lights a smile every time! a lot of beautiful flowers and mushrooms grow here. i do make sure to pick the non-poisonous ones though!”

chat: jealousy

“[name] has such a kind soul, all the forest rangers admire them. how could they not? i’ve never seen them do a bad thing in my entire life! though, it does get frustrating when they stare at them too long… i do admit, i get a little jealous.”

chat: petting

“ah? you want to pet my ears? well… i usually only allow [name] to pet me but, i’m sure they wouldn’t mind either. my tail? hah, now you’re going too far!”

♡

AYATO

about [name]:

“hm? [name]? yes, that is the future head of the kamisato clan. ah, don’t tell them just yet but, i do plan on placing this lovely ring where it rightfully belongs.”

chat: family

“well, with only my sister left of our family, i do cherish her very much. [name] gets along with ayaka quite well. hm, speaking of which, they’re probably spending time together, at this hour.”

chat: work

“aside from being the head of the kamisato clan, my role as a commissioner does get in the way of a lot of things, including spending time with my lover. it’s such a shame. yet, they’re so patient with me. say, traveler, do you think i’m undeserving of [name]?”

chat: bubble tea

“haha, i am quite fond of bubble tea. i request for thoma to get it for me often. somehow, [name] always gets wind of it and steals a couple sips. they probably think they’re sneaky but, i know thoma is always telling them. they’re adorable so, i suppose i can’t be complaining.”

chat: safety

“during the vision hunt decree, [name] was really busy working and it worried me to death. i barely saw them and, unfortunately, i had to ask their close friend, kujou sara. both her and i share concerns over them so, she helped me even though, she was a little reluctant.”

♡

NINGGUANG

about [name]:

“apologies, traveler, i’m a little busy right now. [name]? ah, my lover. well, i suppose i can sit down and have a chat about them for a bit.”

chat: danger

“although i’ve had a couple discussions with the adventure guild about [name]’s dangerous commissions, nothing seems to stop them. of course, they’re very passionate about helping others but, i’m worried they’ll put themselves in danger and i won’t be there to save them. traveler, maybe you can talk to them?”

chat: lunch

“hm yes, [name] and i go out to liuli pavilion a lot. i hear many people of liyue mutter about how jealous they are of them, how easy it is gain my attention and time. though, that does strike up my worry about their safety…”

chat: shopping

“although my job, as the protector of liyue, tends to get me busy, you might find it shocking that i do spend a lot of my time with my lover. we go shopping every week. not that i’d ever let you see but, my closet is filled with clothes that match theirs.”

weather: rain

“agh, the rain is such a bother. on the other hand, [name] is fond of the rain, they often venture during this weather. although i despise it, i suppose i can tolerate it for them. will you be a dear and fetch me an umbrella?"

♡

SARA

about [name]:

"so, you want to know about [name]? i hope for your sake, that you don't have any malicious intentions, but other than that, i'll be happy to talk about them."

chat: loyalty

"yes, i am rather extremely loyal to the shogun. [name]? i assure you that this topic doesn't affect our relationship. despite the fact that i'm not shy to talk about it, i'd rather keep our affairs private."

chat: knitting (ooc? hc)

"huh? knitting... so, [name] told you about that. well, i suppose i can tell you, i do enjoy the simple hobby with them. it tends to release a lot of stress. although, i'm not sure why they spoke about it..."

weather: thunder

"the lightning and thunder is a sign of the shogun's will. i do often announce my loyalty to the shogun but, more times than none, i get aggravated by it. the only other thing that allows me to tolerate it is [name]. they love to huddle up to me and i find it adorable, it really takes my mind off the weather. don't tell them... or you might have to start sleeping with one eye open."

chat: onigiri

"as a warrior in inazuma, it's hard to carry heavy foods with me when i am not home, which is why i ask [name] to make me onigiri. they make it so well, it's packed with flavor and it's easy to carry. i always miss their specialty dishes though."

♡

YANFEI

about [name]:

"have you met [name] yet? you have! hm, the expression on your face tells me the meeting with them was delightful. i'll tell you, being a legal adviser is not easy but seeing their bright face every time i come home, makes it a ton easier. they make me forget about all the civil cases."

chat: comfort

"sometimes, i think i'm good at hiding my facial expressions but the moment i come home and see [name], they know exactly how my day went, or more so what type of day i had. they're exceedingly perceptive and, having a lover like them makes my life a whole lot worthwhile."

chat: late night work

"like i said, being a legal adviser isn't necessarily easy, especially when you have a big case. i spend a lot of nights reading into boring cases, like that will i've recently encountered, however, [name] tends to bring me tea and sit in my home office to comfort me. it often distracts me but, i don't mind."

chat: cooking

"i'm sure i've mentioned how much i love tofu, right? well, [name] makes it ten times better. they spoil me too much, often rewarding me with tofu. i can't cook the way they can. archons, i wonder what i did to deserve such a lover like them."

chat: legal knowledge

"though it may come off as a shock, [name] knew quite a lot about laws before i met them. it wasn't until we got into a relationship, did i know about that. you bet i fell even more in love with them."

♡

CHILDE

about [name]:

"good evening comrade! ah, what am i doing? picking flowers for my darling of course. i see, so you have met [name]. haha, they are truly wonderful aren't they? the more deserving they are of my time to be picking glaze lilies for them then, huh?"

weather: snow

"are you shivering, comrade? this weather is nothing compared to snezhnaya! you really remind of [name]. when i brought them to dragonspine, they were sniffling and whatnot. scared me half to death when a hue of blue took over their face, which is what convinced me to halt my vacation to snezhnaya with them."

chat: sparring

"everything in this world pales in comparison to the thrill of sparring. well, aside from spending time with my lover, of course. speaking of which; they're truly strong. [name] has beaten me every time we've sparred throughout our entire relationship, and they think i'm going easy on them but truth is, i really struggle against them..."

chat: spending

"[name] often scolds me for pampering them with expensive gifts but, i see it as a harmless gesture. of course i'm going to spoil my darling, how could i not?! ah, don't tell them about this one. do you think they'll like it? should i get another ring? i am getting sweaty thinking about their reaction. hm, thank you for the reassurance, comrade."

chat: family

"apart from teucer, [name] hasn't met any of my family yet. i'm fully convinced they'll love them though. they get along really well with teucer, he's even went on to call them an older sibling. it makes my heart swell. nothing brings me more joy than seeing my family and lover getting along."

♡

DILUC

about [name]:

"[name]? of course i've met them, they are my lover after all. so you've heard...? they're a wonderful, kind, and passionate soul. what truly delayed our love was that they're a knight of favonius, a captain no less. but, i've grown to love that part of them as well."

chat: job (slightly ooc?)

"[name] looks wonderful under the dim light of angel's share, don't you think? even though we've been in a relationship for a long time, i will never get used to the way they're always so beautiful. ah, pardon me, i'm being unprofessional."

chat: brother

"tch, kaeya can be quite a bother, honestly. but, [name] always encourages me to reconcile with him. i'm not sure what there is to reconcile... though, i understand they do have only pure intentions."

weather: breeze

"usually, i pay no mind to the weather but, as of late, [name] has taken a keen interest in taking me out to cider lake during the night. it's often windy, sometimes a light breeze will cross us. like usual, they look wonderful under the night's light."

chat: art

"i'm not one to be into art but, it's one of [name]'s hobbies. they spend quite a lot of time indulging in this. everything they've made has been, how do i say this... a masterpiece."

♡

ZHONGLI

about [name]:

"i'm not too understanding of human emotions but, one thing i've grown to recognize is my love for [name]. if you haven't met them, i'd be more than happy to introduce them to you. oh? so, you already have. enlighten me on what you think of them."

chat: gifts

"yet again, i've never quite understood the concept of this human tradition; gifting. [name] has informed me on it and i'd like to get them a present too. what do you think, traveler? something sentimental would suffice."

chat: familial bonds (based off hc, might be a little ooc)

"throughout the millennia i've lived, death has swept past me time and time again. aside from [name], that i met a couple hundred years ago, i've gotten a little attached to xiao, which in turn caused me to keep him closer than i intended. no matter, it fills me with joy to watch xiao open up to someone beside me. [name] tends to have that effect."

chat: tea

"tea is arguably one of the only human invented drinks i can tolerate. it's far better than wine. hm, speaking of which, i often send packages of tea i've acquired to [name]. they seem to love it so, i'd be more than delighted to grace a smile on their lovely face."

chat: painting

"quite like the art of tea, painting is... calming. [name] has been painting for centuries and yet, they have not grown bored of it. i find it astonishing, the way they're easily inspired by the changes of liyue. hm, i do enjoy watching them. sometimes, they would ask me to help them, and who am i to say no to my lover?"

♡

KAEYA

about [name]:

"you're surprised i have a lover? haha, well a lot of people fall for my charm, and it's no different for [name]. though, i was also a little shocked, that somebody could have me wrapped around their finger like they do."

chat: drinking

"often times than not, [name] has dragged me home from angel's share, quite literally. yet, they haven't grown tired of me. i suppose i should stop, for their sake."

chat: intimacy

"[name] and i both work long hours, and even though we pass by each other a lot in the halls of the knights of favonius headquarters, i do miss their touch. recently, [name] has suggested late night dates. that's when we started going out to cider lake to go swimming. the water's cold but, it's nothing either of us can't handle."

chat: secrets

"you want to know my secrets? haha, if i told you then, they wouldn't be secrets anymore, would they? [name]...? well, it's best they don't know about my secrets... for their safety of course."

chat: spare time

"what i do in my free time...? well, i spend it with [name] of course! life would be dull without their presence. i'm often busy, and i drink a lot but, without them, i'd be nothing but a shell of a man. i have [name] to thank for making me a happy person."

♡

BEIDOU

about [name]:

"what do you want to know about [name]? i'm the official [name] guide! they easily make my life like a boat on calm waters. though, i'm always adventuring on the sea, and they're associated with the qixing, we always make time for each other."

chat: souvenirs

"am i that easy to read? well, anyone with the right mind would bring back gifts for their lover, especially if their lover is [name]. they've told me about how much they enjoy the portrait i ordered to be painted for us, even though it's not a souvenir."

chat: sailing

"of course, [name] has been on my boat! it took a lot of convincing and arguing with ningguang to allow her subordinate to take a couple days off... i'd love to take them sailing again one day, but, i suppose i'll have to wait a while before that opportunity comes by again."

chat: occupation

"being a pirate did not make it any less intriguing for [name] to start a relationship with me. initially, it was platonic but, during my time on the sea, i began really feeling the absence of their voice and touch. that's when i really understood my feelings."

chat: drinking

"regardless of the fact that i do hold my alcohol well, i'm afraid [name] has seen me drunk on multiple occasions. they gave me an earful the mornings after. i understand their worries over me so, i drink less now."

♡

CYNO

about [name]:

"you are not the first to be shocked that i have a lover. what? is it because i'm the general mahamatra? my career doesn't often get in the way of our rela- what? it's because of my appearance? what's wrong with it...? ah, i see. i can assure you, [name] is a person who's almost never afraid. they're mostly fascinated by things that seem thrilling, though i advise them to keep themself safe. not like they listen to me..."

chat: desert

"while [name] hadn't originated from the desert, they adapt quite well. occasionally, they have complained about the heat, not that i blame them but, they adjust rather quickly."

chat: rivalry

"hmph, that al-haitham... he doesn't get along with many people, probably because of that awful attitude of his but, unsurprisingly, he and [name] are close. i'm not afraid to lose them to him, no, but rather cautious of him. you can never trust a man like him."

chat: star watching (slightly ooc?)

"i was never a big fan of the stars but, ever since my first encounter with [name], they've always encouraged me to go star watching with them. the sky has hardly any affect on me and even though i agree to tag along, i always spend my time staring at them. they are truly mesmerizing..."

chat: concerns

"i'm confident in [name]'s ability to protect themself but, my title as general mahamatra does worry me regarding their safety. sometimes, i follow them during their adventures to make sure they're alright. what? they've noticed? i- never mind..."

♡

AL-HAITHAM

about [name]:

"apologies traveler but, i am on a time crunch at the moment. [name]? did something happen to them- ah, never mind. your expression is too relaxed for anything bad to have happened to them while i was away. you want to talk about them...? well, ask away, i suppose."

chat: academic

"yes, [name] and i both studied at the akademiya. we were rivals at one point but, somewhere along the way, they had me hooked. looking at it from a much different perspective, i see now, that it was the best thing to have ever happened to me."

chat: knowledge

"nothing halts me from my thirst for knowledge. but, if anything comes close to it, it would be [name]. hm... no, i'd say they're the only one who could. nonetheless, they would never, seeing as they always praise and encourage me."

chat: rivalry

"general mahamatra? i wouldn't be surprised if he wanted [name]. first, after a position he was second best at, and now my lover? i'd like to see that fool try."

chat: reading

"comprehending every aspect of this world and it's secrets is a passion both [name] and i share. i'd have to admit, they're more into the pleasure of sparring over knowledge but, we do often spend our time reading together."

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