#this doesn’t belong anywhere in the fic

[frownyalfred]

me dropping in random pieces of lore like JK Rowling: actually in eye in the sky the only reason J’onn isn’t around helping Kal control Bruce’s mind via telepathy is because he was forced to use his powers on Bruce (to reveal the location of his bases, children, fall back resources etc) and Bruce, under torture, reversed the telepathic link out of pure desperation and broke J’onn. Made him catatonic, or near to it. Not on purpose, maybe, but through the sheer weight of his horror at revealing those locations to Kal and the Regime. And J’onn, on his way out of Bruce’s mind before becoming catatonic, acquiesced to Bruce’s silent plea and erased the memories with the last of his coherence. So Bruce had a jagged hole in his mind on purpose. And I’m sure it hurts.

[peachysunrize]

Insolent wench ⥃ Prince Regent!Aemond

Summary: when he finds the master of whispers’ daughter in the council room in the dead of the night playing with the marble ball he gave to Aegon earlier, the dragon in him is ready to burn or succumb to her.

Pairing: prince regent!Aemond Targaryen x Larys Strong’s daughter reader

Warnings: 18+ mdni! Dark content -> manipulation & blackmail! Dark!reader even a bit of dubcon, virginity loss, virgin!reader, degrading, rough sex, spanking, pussy slapping, breeding, fingering, porn with little plot, ehem using the ball as a toy, Larys’ daughter has zero description, English isn’t my first language<3

Word count: 3.07k+

A/n: thank you @namelesslosers for giving me this dynamic idea & thank you @sylasthegrim for beta reading this for me🥹 Happy rough fucking with Aemond everyone🤭 Reblogs & comments are most appreciated!💕 also I was too lazy to make an aesthetic moodboard for my fic lol

He lurks in the corridors of the Keep that lead to the Small Council room. It has become his little secret, a routine he has always longed to have, and now, after months of yearning, he finally has it.

The halls are silent, and the sound of every step he takes echoes within the walls. Aemond walks with Blackfyre attached to his hip, the heavy weight of the Valyrian steel makes him smirk. Truly, he has never felt an emotion so deeply rooted inside him that makes the hair on his nape rouse, but now being the regent and the protector of the realm does it for him.

He stops for a moment when he finds the door to the council’s room ajar, the flickering of the candlelight visible from outside. He has never encountered anyone at such an hour, everyone has to be abed, except for the guards who are the ones that aren’t found anywhere near this room.

He takes a cautious step towards the door, hearing the sound of a low humming coming from inside. He reaches for Aegon’s dagger, fingers wrapping around the hilt as he pushes the door open slowly, his good eye skimming the room only to find someone’s back to him, leaning over the table and playing with his marble ball.

“A fine night, is it not, my Prince Regent?” you ask him, your back still to him as you fidget with the ball on the table, walking towards the King’s chair with a sway in your hips.

“What is your business here, Lady Strong?” he asks, letting go of the dagger before he locks his hands behind his back, walking towards his previous seat at the end of the marble desk.

He watches you closely, his good eye following your every move as you sit down on his chair at the head of the table, rolling the ball between your fingers as you look up from the ball to him slowly.

“I am disheartened by your words to my father,” you say, leaning back on the chair while your thumb rubs over the smooth surface of the marble ball in your hand, “he has served the King and your grace faithfully.”

Aemond doesn’t move from his spot, staring solely at your fingers as they rub and caress what belongs to him. He listens carefully, though he is not sure what good it might come out of conversing with a lady like you at such an hour.

“Your father sought power when he already had more than he deserved,” he replies, taking prolonged steps towards you, stopping at Tyland Lannister’s empty chair, “my council is no place for cunning rats like him.”

You chuckle, leaning your head on the back of the chair with a smirk tugging on the corner of your mouth, and it irritates Aemond to no end to see you finding such immense joy in tormenting him—even though you have not really started yet.

You were always such a strange lady to him; so much like your father in the sense that you stopped at nothing to obtain what you wanted".He has heard tales of your rebellious nature in the court, always listening and bothering the royals with your remarks, but they have failed to tell him about your blinding beauty.

“I thought you were ruling in your brother’s stead while he recovers, my prince,” you say, pushing the ball until it starts rolling towards where Aemond stands, “allegedly, this is his council, not yours.”

“Yet your father assumed he’d be my Hand, not my brother’s,” he moves the ball on the table as he walks towards Orwyle’s seat, his gaze never leaving yours, “it does make me wonder how hungry both he and you are for the attention of the royals, my lady.”

“Oh, you have mistaken my motives, your grace,” you stand up, stepping on the opposite side of him, matching his pace as he rounds the table with confidence until he’s standing behind the King’s chair, “I am not here to seek power or the attention of the royals, no. I am here to tell you that sometimes you need to think before you utter some words; ugly rats like my father as you said, tend to thrive on them, best is to learn how to say those words without causing a problem.”

“Mind your tongue, little girl,” Aemond spits out the words, closing his fingers around the ball tightly before he strides towards you purposefully with a tinge of fury in his steps.

“Not little, my prince,” you match his tone, standing where you are until he is right in front of you, the purple of his eye now fully gone as darkness seeps through his iris, “certainly older than you. I reckon you like older women, given your rendezvous to the brothel and all.”

His hand comes up to grip your jaw, squishing your cheeks harshly as he looms over you, his face inches away from yours as his nostrils flare in anger.

“Watch yourself, insolent wench. You are in no position to drag my name in the dirt. Your father tried, and look where he is now—called a Toad by me, dismissed as my Hand and ready to fetch Otto Hightower like a dog,” he says through gritted teeth, his nails digging into your face as he leans closer, his hot breath hitting your lips.

“Your name is already filthy by your own hands. You and Larys Strong have more in common than you think; both kinslayers—“ he cuts you off by spinning you away from him, pushing you down on the table roughly by his large palm on your back.

“Filthy whores like you should be executed in the muddy streets of Flea Bottom and their heads parading around the city on a spike,” he presses himself against your back, his crotch rubbing against your skirt, “Lucky for you, I know how to treat girls like you.”

“I assumed His Grace took no pleasure in taking whores,” you laugh with a jab in your tone at him, “I would love to see how you treat them though. Your brother is the one with tales of his masterful bedding, not you.”

“Tormenting me at the hour of the wolf has severe consequences which I will deliver to you accordingly, Strong,” he groans against your ear, reaching for his dagger to tear through the fabric of your dress, the remaining layers falling on the floor with ease. “Punishment or not, you will learn you shall never wake the dragon for you will burn and the only thing that will remain is your ashes.”

Your small clothes join your ruined dress on the floor, leaving you bare and dripping to the Prince Regent’s eye, devouring the sight of your flesh like a man starved.

The moan that slips from your lips when you feel something cold against your heated cunt is shameless, just like the sound a whore in the Street of Silk would make. 

Aemond starts rubbing your buzzing pearl with the marble ball between his fingers, his breathless laugh against the shell of your ear only makes the feeling of the coldness against your most vulnerable part much stronger.

“You were playing with my property, now I shall use it to make you a property of mine as well,” he whispers, his teeth sinking in the flesh of your neck as he moves the ball faster, your juices flowing down on the cold stone in his hand.

You realize you have awakened the beast within him as he quickens his movements, one hand pinning you to the table and the other rubbing the bundle of nerves furiously, tightening the knot in your core. You fist your hands, nails digging into your palm as your breathing turns into panting.

“It is in your blood it seems, to enjoy having the attention of someone who can easily snap your neck in half,” he mumbles more to himself than you, pleased with how shaky you have become, “you see, insolent wenches like you should be put in their place. How fortunate you are to be under my care.”

As soon as you feel your breaking point, he takes away the ball from your cunt, making you whine and arch your back in protest. He chuckles darkly, bringing the ball to your lips before he orders you to suck and clean the ball off your juices.

“My Prince—“

“Go on, you tart, show your prince how much of a power-hungry slut you are, maybe I will reconsider naming your father as my Hand.”

You comply, licking your nectar off the cold marble, humming at the taste. Aemond knows these games, at least he knew them with the little education he had in the brothels, but you? You are a different kind of lady, a master in disguise. It irritates and arouses him to no end.

Aemond lets go of the stone, bringing his palm down on your arsecheek roughly, making you yelp in surprise. He repeats his action, slapping your backside one more on the same spot he did a few seconds ago. 

You whine in pain and unbelievable pleasure as the sting of his hand spreads through your flesh, a deep primal desire rushing to your aching pussy. He looks down to find you wetter than before, and the sight makes him almost lose his self-restraint, almost.

You wrap your hand around the ball tightly, crying out when you feel the impact of another spank not on your bottom but on your cunt. The pain mixes with an undeniably overwhelming pleasure that has you biting your lip, not wishing to give him the satisfaction. He senses it anyway and hears the muffled scream as he lands another slap on your swollen folds with a sinister smile. 

“I wonder if your father knows of your whereabouts, his daughter ready to be turned into his future king’s whore,” he brings two of his fingers to his mouth, covering them with his spit before he reaches down to play with your pussy, no patience left in him as he thrusts his fingers inside you, groaning at the feel of your warmth.

You do not have the chance to tell him about your maidenhead, and with how fast he is moving his fingers, you can no longer think of it as an issue — your plans are falling into the right path.

Your mind has turned into a mush with how luscious his fingers feel inside you, not a foreign feeling but his fingers are much longer and thicker than you and reach deeper inside you, having you moaning and clawing the table.

“It only takes a few fingers to have your mouth shut, Lady Strong. I wonder what you’d do when I have my cock deep in your cunt,” he leans down to lick at your cheek, his fingers moving faster as he presses his bulge to your thigh. This time, he doesn’t pull away and keeps his pace up, curving his digits to hit your sweet spot rapidly, bringing you closer to your high. 

“My prince, please—“

“That’s it, Strong, give it to me,” he groans out the words, resting his forehead on the side of your face. He hums as soon as you start shaking and tightening around his fingers, gushing your wetness on him.

He doesn’t kiss you, no, he just licks over your lips as you moan and part them in pure delight, seeing stars as your peak rocks your body forward. 

“Fuck it, I need to be buried inside you, seeing for myself how the real blood of Strongs feels like,” he says, biting your cheek as he pulls his fingers out, wiping them on the red handprint on your bottom before reaching for his doublet, unbuttoning it and pulling his linen undershirt out of his leather pants. His fingers unlace his trousers quickly, pushing them and his breeches down enough for his cock to spring free.

He aligns his leaking tip with your soaked entrance, filling you to the hilt with one swift snap of his slim hips. Aemond groans, your wet pulsating walls enveloping his length in a delicious way that not even Sylvie has made him feel.

His hands make a home on your hips as soon as he starts thrusting his cock at a fast bruising pace, not letting you adjust to how his girth stretches your walls more than you thought you’d expect. Your maidenhead is now gone, you can feel his tip licking at the head of your womb, nudging it with each snap of his hips to yours.

Aemond cannot take his eye off of the way his cock disappears inside you, coated with your essence and wetness as he fucks you with abandon, his brain foggy with a desire he has only felt while burning his brother and killing his nephew—you are special in his eye, you awaken the dragon within him, insolent wench as he so likes to call you.

Your hands grow clammy, and the ball falls from your grasp with Aemond’s rough hammering, rolling on the table until it falls on the floor, making a loud uncomfortable noise that matches your unladylike moans and gasps in pleasure.

“You can’t even hold a fucking ball in your hands, Strong. Is your father as weak as you? Will he succumb to me the way you have with just a cock inside your tight pretty cunt?”

It is you who has succumbed to me, you think to yourself as coherent as your thoughts can get without the feeling of him overwhelming your senses. You nod mindlessly, thinking of how he has fallen into your trap so easily.

He comes hard, his hip bones pushing your plush thighs to the rough edges of the council’s table, filling you to the brim with his royal seed. Aemond’s head is thrown back, groaning at your name as his cock twitches inside you, the final ropes of his warm cum painting your walls.

“What have you done?” you ask shakily, faking terror as you try to push him away from you, 

“what— how could you, my prince?”

“What?” he asks dumbfounded, pulling his now softened cock out of you, looking at you with his mind now sharper than before, “what are you saying, my lady?”

“Which lord will now take me as his bride? I am—may the Seven help me— I am tainted! I-I cannot find a husband, m-my maidenhead!”

“You…” Aemond’s voice falters, “you were… you were still a maiden?”

“I was! How crude you have to be to sully my name like a- like the whores you visit? I cannot believe you—“

“Wait!” he tries to reach for you, his lips parted in sheer surprise and terror as you push away from him, nearly dropping on his knees, “My Lady, we should have a word—“

“No!” You fix your dress as best as you could, shaking your head as you run away from him, opening the doors without even looking at him, leaving him shocked and confused with his soft dick out, looking like a deer caught by the hunters.

With so little sleep, Aemond walks through the same hallways he took last night, waltzing inside the small council with a pulsating heart. His eye finds Larys alone in the room, humming as he plays with the marble ball you — his daughter — were playing with last night.

“My Prince Regent,” Lord Larys stands up and bows, “what a lovely day, do you not think so?”

“Lovely morrow indeed,” Aemond says, sitting at the head of the table, glaring at Larys who rolls his marble ball from side to side, “state your mind or leave me.”

“My daughter, Your Grace,” Larys sighs, a ghost of a smirk finding its way onto his face, “she was… in a not-so-pleasant state for her status when she sought me out.”

“What of her?” Aemond tries to remain unbothered, but he knows there is a scheme going on that his intelligence could not pick up on last night.

“She said you forced yourself upon her,” Larys drops the ball on the floor as he locks his hand on the table, his eyes meeting Aemond’s, glaring at him with newfound confidence, “that no Lord will take her now, that you have tainted and impured my daughter!”

“I assure you, my good Lord, that is a lie. Your daughter was the one who made me do it—“ he tries to reason with him, but Larys has none of it.

“So you admit that you yielded to your desires and took my daughter’s innocence! How wild, how disgusting! To know I wished to be in your council—“

“‘Mind your tongue, Lord Larys. I do not care if you are to leave the Keep, but you will not talk to me as if I’m lesser than I was before!” Aemond’s voice booms through the room, slamming his fist on the table as he stands up.

“You are a lesser man, Prince Aemond. A man who gave into his desires and used his power over a helpless noble woman…”

“What is it you wish for me to do? I have not forced myself upon your daughter, she partook in the act willingly if not more enthusiastically than me.” Aemond’s breathing changes and his knuckles turn white as he tries to stop himself from doing something he would surely regret.

“She was crying in my arms last night—“

“Name it and it is yours!” Aemond yells at him, walking to grab Larys by his collar, “You want me to name you my Hand? I will. But in return, you shall keep your mouth shut.”

“You are in no position to tell me what to do, my prince,” Larys calms down a bit, knowing the plan he and you have made has been done perfectly, “you will make me your Hand, and you will marry my daughter in a fortnight.”

“Not acceptable! We will lose Baratheons’ support!” Aemond shoves Larys back on his seat before he starts pacing, “You are my Hand from now on, and I will arrange a good match for your daughter.”

“No, she will be the Queen of the Seven Kingdoms, or I will taint your reputation the way you have done to my daughter.” 

Rest assured, Larys Strong’s only child married the former Prince Regent and now the King in a fortnight with a lavish feast thrown for her.

[peachesofteal]

Light on - single mom/neighbors fic Simon Riley/female reader Prompt: You ask Simon to babysit for you last minute. For @that-fangirl-1106 and three anons

“Thank you so, so much. I owe you.” 

Simon stops short at your door, brows raising in surprise. He expected to see you in your ‘house clothes’ as you call them, leggings, or an old pair of jeans with a t shirt. Instead, you’re wearing a skirt, a short skirt, swell of your breasts just visible inside the V of your shirt, and his stomach twists, confusion thrumming in his veins. What is this? Where are you going? When you called and asked him to help you watch Emma for a bit, he just assumed it was so you could run some errands or something, take some time for yourself. Not for… whatever this is. 

You’ve got Emmaline on your hip, waist curved to accommodate her, and she’s babbling at you with a happy smile.  

“Are you sure it’s not an inconvenience? My sitter bailed last minute.” The door lock clicks into place behind him, and he holds his tongue, stopping the flow of one hundred questions, biting down on the urge to pull you into his chest and tell you- you’re not actually going anywhere. 

Would you agree? Would you look up at him with that sweet, beautiful face, and tell him that you won’t? That you’ll stay here, with him, instead. Where you belong.

“Simon?” Shit.

“It’s fine. I’m happy to help.” Emma coos, looking up at him, little legs wriggling in her onesie and his heart thumps a little harder, the green poison of jealously cooling just slightly when he realizes it doesn’t matter where you’re going. You’ll be coming home to him, and Emmaline, at the end of your night. 

Still. He has to ask. He has to know. 

“Where are you going?” You hand the baby to him, clucking softly, rubbing your fingers through her wispy crop of curls. 

“Out with this guy I met!” You’re excited, practically beaming, and your fingers find the hem of your shirt, anxiously plucking at it. “It’s been a while since like-“ you stop yourself, embarrassment heating your face, and you clear your throat. “No one’s asked me on a date in a while. Single moms aren’t really… a hot commodity.” His stomach clenches at the idea of another man thinking you’re a hot anything, let alone even looking in your direction. 

“Where are you going? Who is he?” 

“To the little Thai spot on seventh.” You give him an odd look. “And he’s a guy I met at the library.” 

“The library?” 

“Yeah, during story time.” You’re pulling a jacket on, and he clenches his jaw so tight he could chew through concrete. “Alright, baby, love you.” You step into his orbit, dab of perfume still wet on your neck, heat pressing into his side when you bend to kiss Emma on her forehead. Your hand brushes his against her back, something clouding your gaze when you look up into his face, something hopeful and honeyed sweet, with just a glimpse of longing, enough that blood roars in his ears. 

He should ask you to stay, tell you he’ll take you instead. Or take you somewhere better, take you anywhere you want to go. 

But he doesn’t. Instead, he watches you slip out the front door, blowing the baby in his arms one last kiss goodnight with a wave of your palm.

An hour later, a key scrapes against the metal of the lock. He’s got Emmaline and her favorite stuffed giraffe in his arms, walking circles in the kitchen, bouncing her lightly to try to soothe her pre bedtime tears, a normal routine he’s seen you do more than once. 

You slip through the door with a whispered apology, tired eyes rimmed in red. 

“Hey.” You reach for Emma, giving her a big smile and holding her to your chest, little kisses from your lips dotting her head, her cheeks. Your eyes slip closed, tension sagging from your shoulders, and he frowns, 

“What happened?” 

“Nothing. He uh, didn’t show.” Oh, sweetheart. You shrug, brushing it off. “But that’s okay, isn’t it?” you coo at Emma, smoothing a hand up and down her back. “Yeah, that’s okay. Mum doesn’t need anyone but you, huh Emmaline?” You say something about putting her to bed, and he barely hears you, too busy thinking about finding the piece of shit that decided to stand you up and breaking every bone in his body. 

You reappear once you’ve got her down, and he still hasn’t made himself scarce, lingering in your kitchen, hands in his pockets. He feels out of place, heart panging at the dejected look at your face. 

“Fuck that guy.” He grunts, and you crack a smile, tucking your arms around yourself. “He’s an idiot.” 

“Yeah.” You’re sullen, rejected, and it makes his blood boil, rage coursing through him knowing that someone made you feel less than the wonder you are. “Thanks for… I guess hanging out with her for a little while, at least. It was really nice of you.” 

“Anytime.” The kitchen is silent for a moment, reflecting your somber mood, and just as he’s about to tell you how stupid that guy is, how much of fool he is to not see what he missed out on, how much he didn’t deserve a single second of your time, you sigh out a whispered confession. 

“I guess it was pretty stupid.” 

“What was stupid, sweetheart?” 

“Going on a date when I have a baby at home. Thinking someone would even want a single mom with a baby at home.” You roll your eyes. “You know, as soon I got out the door, I was thinking about coming back? Couldn’t stop thinking about her. Wishing I was hanging out with my own daughter, and you… instead of going on a date.” His heart latches onto your words, hoarding them close, trying to memorize them so he can recall every syllable when he closes his eyes tonight. 

“That’s not stupid.” He wants to comfort you, promise you that it’s the farthest thing from stupid. 

“Maybe. Either way doesn’t matter, right? I got stood up.” You wince. 

“Whoever he is, he doesn’t deserve a minute of your time.” Your lips part, a little stunned by the steadfast vow, before splitting into a delicate smile, and your head ducks. 

“Thanks, Simon.” 

[pedrasacorn]

after that little blurb about jason still caring about reader even after breaking up with her for her own safety i now desperately need an angsty but also a comfort fic where they break up, reader is comfused and sad, jason is even sadder and maybe evn regrets his decision and then something important happens to reader and jason realizes what a mistake it was to push her away and apologises and its all good again! … lol sorry if this is too long i just liked your idea a lot :)

Jason breaks up to protect you

A/n: thank you for requesting :3 it’s so exciting and getting to challenge myself was fun!

Warnings: Blood, injury, brief description of depression, not proof read

5:30pm

Far above the city Jason watches you.

The rain and smog almost conceal his view as you exit your apartment.

But he knows your habits, the way you walk.

It’s only easy to get through your window because he’s the one who goon proofed it.

Your room is clean, as if untouched. Except the bed.

He takes stock of your fridge. Rotting vegetables he tosses, along with the moldy bread and…whatever the hell that was.

His heartache is good. And earned. Deserved even.

All it took was for one rogue to mention your existence, and that was it. Didn’t have a name; just a vague idea of your existence.

He clung to the feeling of panic lacing his veins, keeping it vivid in his mind. He used it to replace the urge to hold you, to wipe your tears, and reassure you. He knew better than to have been in your life.

He uses fresh milk to replace your…chunky one.

“I did not raise you this way…” He mutters; humorously.

As he broke up, he managed to look at your face, he imagined what it would look like dead, and bloody.

It didn’t help. Because you weren’t dead, but you looked something akin to it.

Eggs, and cheese. You don’t like eggs. He knows this.

More bread even if it goes bad again. And snacks. Easy freezer meals.

He shouldn’t, but he stays. He stays hidden in the dark where he belongs, needing to know you make it home okay.

6:31pm

Everything is a fog of grey.

The half eaten sandwich you had at work tasted like nothing.

You couldn’t even cry because—what was the point? You didn’t even really feel anything.

That nothingness multiplies when you get into your apartment. Locking everything up the way Jason taught you.

Although the stab wound, and blood dripping down your side doesn’t feel like nothing.

Sweat beeds down your face, collecting in the neck of your sweater. You just have to get to the kit Jason gave you; the medical bills were not worth it right now.

Your eyes meet his.

Your heart nearly falls out of your chest, releif flooding your veins.

“Jay I’m hurt.” Your voice breaks as tears warp your vision, softening out the world.

6:34

You, are still the most beautiful thing, he has ever beheld.

What was he doing? He had only meant to bring you food. Knowing your tendency to neglect yourself when you were heartsick.

It wasn’t your fault; he’d never blame you. Just wanted to know you weren’t going to fade out of existence the way he faded out of your life.

He runs to you, immediately ripping off your sweater, pressing his hand into your side.

“I’m not going anywhere sweets. M’right here.” He murmurs against your ear, “Who did this?”

“Some stupid—son of a bitch in an alley.” You rasp as he lies you down.

“Yeah? What son’uva bitch? You tell me. Now.”

His accent was so thick when he got upset; like when you forgot to eat, or drink water instead of caffeine.

He’s stunning.

“Hi…” you rasp.

“…hi surga’…” He soothes your cheek.

8:40pm

When you come to you’re alone in your bed.

A sob breaks through the quiet.

So light on his feet, you don’t hear him until he’s halfway into your room.

“Shhh baby it’s okay…hey, hey I’m right here.” He cups your tear streaked face.

You whimper. “You left.”

“I know but I’m not ever going to leave again okay? Yeah?” He tilts your face upward.

“You…you just think you know all the things.” You sniffle.

He can’t help his fond smile; he doesn’t mention how your words make little sense.

“Yeah?” He croons.

You nod.

“You just do things. All the time and it’s…just so you.”

Your glare holds little heat.

Even if it did, any heat from you is warmth to him.

His emotions are bared to you, he’s filled with guilt. Staying wasn’t rational, but he needed you.

He smooths your cheek with his thumb.

“Can you find some forgiveness in that pretty heart of yours?” He murmurs.

He knows he doesn’t deserve it, but it’s the best he can do to ask without begging.

“…I just missed you…the most.” You say, a bit delirious.

“Yeah I missed you too…” He kisses your forehead.

“Is that how you kiss the love of your life?” You glare.

There’s his sweetheart.

“Well you didn’t give me permission now didya?” He smirks.

You meet each other half way, his lips caressing yours.

[luvjunie]

Hey sweetie, I’ve been a real big fan. Can you write some HCS or a fic about the both Miles being twins?

a/n: ABSOLUTELY 10000% YES. i had way too much fun with this oml. and omg thank you you’re so sweet! 😭 btw, let’s just pretend that in this au they don’t have the same name since they’re ‘twins’ lmao

— headcanons. miles and miles as twins

Twins? Yes. Polar opposites? Definitely.

They both have a completely different sense of style, but one thing they have in common is that they both love Jordan’s. However I feel like miles!42 is a full blown sneakerhead. Has the better collection and often finds miles!1610 wearing his shoes, because somehow 42 always manages to win the snkrs raffles.

“Are those my brand new fuckin’ 4s?” “Uh… no?” “Take my shit off before I tweak out.”

42 keeps his side of the room squeaky clean, gets upset if there’s even a sock that does not belong to him on his side

Absolutely hates the song Sunflower. Cannot stand it, makes him wanna rip his hair out. The minute it came out 1610 played it into the dirt and 42 swears he can still hear it in his dreams till this day

1610 is the more affectionate one (outwardly) while 42 likes to pretend he’s completely devoid of that as if he doesn’t love his brother with everything in him.

“You got exactly three seconds to get off me.” “Just hug me back, damn!”

They’re the kind of brothers to open soundcloud, turn on a random trap beat and see who can go the longest freestyling. They do that thing where guys bring their fist to their mouths and squeal and shove each other out of excitement when they get a good flow going back and forth

42 is definitely the athletic type, plays football and soccer. 1610 is more in tune with his artistic side. Will play sports for fun but doesn’t care for them like that

42 is introverted as hell, doesn’t really like talking to people. 1610 is more of a social butterfly

They’ve never once liked the same girl. Ever. Their taste is drastically different

“Bro, you like a white girl?” “…Yes? What does her race have to do with anything?” “See me personally—“. “Literally nobody fucking asked.”

Used to help each other break out of their cribs when they were babies. Either that or Jeff and Rio would wake up to find that 42 had climbed into 1610’s crib after they’d been put down and slept with him instead. it was impossible to keep them apart from each other, so eventually they just broke down the second crib and let them use the one.

You can tell who is who in their baby pictures. You guessed it, 42 was the oddly solemn one who always wanted to play by himself. They worried about him for a bit. They also had to tickle him as an attempt to get him to smile in pictures, and just their luck, he’s never been ticklish

When they were eight years old, 1610 accidentally broke the wolverine action figure 42 never went anywhere without, and 42 cried about it for three days straight

They definitely ask for each other’s opinions on their outfits

���Do you think this shirt goes with these pants?” “The entire outfit is black… how would it not go together?”

They both obviously love their mother but 42 is the biggest mama’s boy. Always in the kitchen helping her cook, will watch her telenovelas with her and actually keep up with the plot. He’ll willingly follow her to the grocery store or accompany her on her ridiculously long Ross/Tjmaxx sprees because he likes hanging out with her

They terrorize the fuck outta their dad and have been doing so since they entered this world because they think it’s funny. Stupid shit like dying his boxers pink, or looking up a cracked tv screen video on youtube just to watch him nearly have a heart attack thinking they broke it. They used to twin-swap when they were younger to get out of certain things, but it’s 100% impossible to pull off now. They’re way too different, physically and mentally

Uncle Aaron took 42 to get his ears pierced when he was thirteen, something 1610 would never do. Rio basically had an aneurysm when he came home with them in and Jeff was not pleased but Aaron took the blame for it, said it was his idea. 42 made up some bullshit lie about how if he takes them out before they heal completely they’ll get infected. Still has them in till this day

42 is exactly fourteen minutes older and refuses to let 1610 hear the end of it, but 1610 is taller by an inch and weighs a little more.

“I don’t know why you’re talking shit like I’m not older than you. Pipe down lil’ bro.” “Sorry, is someone talking to me right now? Cause I sure as hell can’t see ‘em.” “Nigga it’s ONE INCH”

They’re definitely scrapping over that, and both get smacked upside their heads by Mama Rio for fighting with each other

42 needs the tv and the fan on, SIMULTANEOUSLY when he sleeps or he’ll be up the entire night. 1610 can’t stand it

1610 will try and turn the fan off after his brother’s been asleep for probably two hours, thinking he’s in the clear until he hears—

“Do you value your life? Turn my damn fan back on.”

Deep down 42 is a big ass softie and loves spending time with 1610, he has no idea what he’d do without him. He’s just not the best at expressing it. 1610 teases him about it simply because he enjoys aggravating his other half

“You still got plans with Ganke tonight?” “Nah, his mom’s dragging him to some baby shower.” “Oh, cool, cool… So what movie are we watching?” “Huh?” “Huh—Headass. What movie are we watching tonight?” “Sorry, I’m not understanding. Are you—asking to spend time… with me?” “Damn, I need to say it in Spanish? Matter fact, you probably won’t understand that either. No sabo ass.”

[genshinluvr]

Where I Truly Belong

Pairings: Various Genshin Men x Villain!Isekai'd!Reader

Summary: Your arrival at Teyvat was sudden and you thought you'd be welcome with open arms and new friendship. However, you were terribly wrong. You were ignored, threatened, and chased out of the regions in Teyvat. One day, on the heart island outside of Liyue, a portal opens and an opportunity is given to you. An opportunity where you have power and control over fate. Perhaps this is where you truly belong.

Note: This fic mainly focuses on the reader, so not a lot of Genshin men will be speaking in this overall fic unless it's something huge. I don't know how I feel about this story. I have come to the conclusion that I suck ass at writing the main character as a villain. I thought this fic was going to be longer, but I think it's best to cut it short because I'm not sure where it's going, and leaving it as where it ended is good. This is my first attempt at writing a villain!reader, and I think it's decent-ish for my first time. Again, you guys might think it sucks ass and honestly, understandable if you do think it sucks. Anyway! I don't post anywhere else but on Tumblr (Genshinluvr) and on AO3 (Aaliah_exo).

Warnings: Reader gets impaled, mentions of blood, failed depictions of villainous reader

Word Count: 6.6k

Part 2 of Where I Truly Belong is [HERE].

The day you arrived at Teyvat, you were alone. The familiar faces of the characters you loved were nowhere to be found. You assumed they were going to try to find you and perhaps help you adjust to their world, but you were wrong. No one searched for you; therefore, you searched for them instead. When you found the beloved characters you love before being thrown into Teyvat, they ignored you. Even if they recognized you or had this sense of familiarity when seeing your face among the crowd, they continued on with their day as if you were never there. 

You run toward Aether, grabbing him by the wrist. “Aether! I finally found you! I—”

Aether yanks his wrist from your grasp, gazing at you like you had just grown two heads. Your heart drops to your chest, watching the blond man take a step back while the floating girl beside him gazes at you warily. Aether doesn’t say anything, and neither does Paimon.

“Do you know this person, Traveler?” Paimon asks, floating closer to Aether. 

Aether shakes his head. “I don’t know them, Paimon. I’m sorry, but you have the wrong person,” Aether states firmly, almost glaring at you.

You swallow the lump in your throat after hearing Aether’s response. Before you can say anything, a voice from a distance calls out to Aether and Paimon. You, Aether, and Paimon turn to see Lumine running toward the three of you with a big smile while Dainsleif follows behind.

Lumine stops in her tracks. “There you two are! I can’t believe you two ran off like that! I don’t understand how you and Dainsleif were traveling companions,” Lumine huffs, propping her hands on her hips.

“I was more of his babysitter, making sure he doesn’t get into trouble,” Dainsleif snorts, rolling his eyes when Aether grumbles incoherent words while Lumine and Paimon snicker.

You clear your throat. Lumine and Dainsleif look at you for a brief moment before Lumine loops her arms around Aether’s left arm, pulling him elsewhere with Paimon and Dainsleif following behind, leaving you standing in the middle of the field alone. Dark stormy clouds roll in, and you’re immediately soaked to the bone, watching the four figures get smaller and smaller. The four figures soon became blurry— you’re not sure if it’s because of the pouring rain or if it’s because of your tears. At this point, it’s hard for you to tell the difference between the two. 

You decided to stop by Mondstadt after meeting Aether, Lumine, Dainsleif, and Paimon. Once you reached the City of Freedom, you took shelter and made sure you weren’t entering the city looking like a soaked rat. After the sky clears up and you’re not soaked to the bone, you enter t the vast city. You thought the people of Mondstadt would be nicer when they see you, but you’re wrong. Huffman and Sara from Good Hunter are friendly people. However, people who have visions are the opposite. You tried talking to Albedo, Venti, Diluc, and Kaeya. Still, they all ignored you or acted like you were a crazy person.

“I believe you have one too many dandelion wines,” Kaeya chuckles, leaning against the counter at Angel's Share, nursing wine in his hands. 

Venti is sprawled over the counter at Angel's Share. You can practically see birds flying around his head. The poor Bard is not only drunk, but he’s also mumbling incoherently. Diluc sighs, cleaning the cup before tending to his duties around the tavern.

Diluc mumbles, “They’re not a customer, Kaeya.”

Venti scoots over to the Chief Alchemist, whispering loudly to the man, “Is it just me, or does this strange person look like they were fished out of Cider Lake?”

Albedo looks at you for a brief moment before gazing back at his sketch pad, not saying a word to the Bard. Even though none of them have outwardly shown you they don’t want you in Angel’s Share, you know from the way they look away from you and act around you they don’t want you in the same building as them. So, you gather up your things and leave the tavern. You’re used to being alone in your world, and seeing the people you adore treat you like you didn’t exist hurts. 

“Maybe the next region won’t be so bad,” you tell yourself.

Liyue is interesting. When you step into the beautiful region ruled by the Geo Archon, you are met with a polearm pointing at your throat. Xiao stands before you, glaring daggers at you with such distaste that it nearly made you want to skip Liyue altogether. 

“Outsiders are not welcomed to Liyue,” Xiao spats.

You know the Yaksha before you is doing his job to protect the region once ruled by the Geo Archon, but the way he gazes at you with such… hatred… made you second guess your presence in Liyue. 

You clear your throat. “I thought adventurers are welcomed to Liyue, Xiao,” you whisper, hands shaking at your side.

Xiao glares at you, not saying a word. Oh. When Xiao said that outsiders aren’t welcome in Liyue, he meant you. You’re not welcome to Liyue, not because you’re not an adventurer or a tourist from another region visiting the City of Contracts. It’s because you’re not from Teyvat. But even if you’re not from Teyvat, Aether, Dainsleif, Paimon, and Lumine aren’t even from Teyvat either. However, they’re still welcomed with open arms. 

“I won’t cause any harm, I promise. Is it a crime to walk into a region? I don’t have any weapons on me, nor do I pose a threat,” you say.

You dig into your pockets and hold your hands up to show Xiao you have no weapon on you. Xiao reluctantly points the polearm in the opposite direction of you and stares at you. You sigh in relief and walk past the Conquerer of Demons. In Mondstadt, no one pointed their weapons at you. In Liyue, though? You can’t really get upset with Xiao over it, really. All he’s doing is his duty to protect Liyue from danger.

When you step into Liyue Harbor, you stop in your tracks and look at the beautiful city. The City of Contracts is full of life, and the chatter of the citizens fills the once-silent air. After the encounter with the four outlanders, the men of Mondstadt and Xiao, you can't help but hesitate to continue further into the city. You know the Yaksha is watching your every move like a hawk. You don't necessarily blame him, but the encounter with Xiao made you hesitate.

Should you continue further into the City of Contracts? Or will the not-so-deceased Geo Archon make you face the wrath of the rock for stepping into his beloved city? Your hands shake at your sides, making you swallow the lump in your throat. You take a deep breath and continue into the city, making sure not to bump into a green-haired doctor and the former Geo Archon. You don't have anything against them, but they might have something against you, like how Xiao does when you step foot into the region. You stand in the middle of the city, staring at nothing. Why did you continue to venture into the City of Contracts?

You searched for the familiar faces from a beloved game you loved so much back in your world, only for them not to like you. It was a rude awakening, and you're unsure of why they treat you this way when you have never met them— nor did you plan on meeting the characters you have always loved. Someone bumps into you, causing you to stumble forward and snap out of your thoughts.

“Oh, I'm so sorry,” you say, turning to look at the person that bumped into you before freezing up.

“Why am I the one apologizing when I wasn’t the one that bumped into him?”

The ginger-haired Harbinger glares at you. “Next time, don't stand there and take up space,” Childe hisses, shoving past you and purposefully bumping your shoulders.

You rub your shoulders, watching the ginger Harbinger approach a certain Geo Archon, his demeanor changing almost instantly as he greets the Archon happily. 

You press your lips into a thin line before turning around and walking away. As you walk away, Zhongli looks at Childe quizzically. Childe dusts his clothes and props his hands on his hips, sighing and acting like nothing had happened. Once you're out of view, Zhongli turns to Childe.

“Childe? Is that who I think it is?” Zhongli murmurs, stroking his chin.

Childe scoffs, continuing not to know who you are even though he's very well aware. Childe nudges the Geo Archon to follow him to the restaurant where he, Zhongli, and Doctor Baizhu will be having dinner. Baizhu shakes his head, walking beside the Geo Archon.

“Just to let you know, you're a little bit harsh on them despite you being the one that bumped into them,” Baizhu mutters, shaking his head with disapproval.

Childe rolls his eyes and changes the subject as the two men arrive at the Liuli Pavilion. Meanwhile, you sit outside of the city of Liyue, hugging your knees to your chest. You made a massive mistake of seeking out these people that you adored in your world. You should've started a different life in Teyvat, living among the citizens of Teyvat and living in solitude. But of course, you being you, you decided to seek these people out, only to be disappointed in the end. 

You still have Inazuma and Sumeru to explore and visit. However, you want to avoid stepping foot in the two other regions after what happened with the outlanders, the men of Mondstadt, Xiao, and Childe. You have yet to meet Zhongli and Baizhu, so you can't make a judgment on how they would treat you upon meeting for the first time. But if Xiao reacted in such a way when you entered Liyue, who knows how Zhongli and Baizhu would react?

You nearly forgot how fast time passes in Teyvat. One minute it was the afternoon, and when you blink, the sun is already setting. Technically, time doesn't change in a blink of an eye, but it does feel like it in Teyvat. You close your eyes and rest your head on your knees. Would visiting Inazuma and Sumeru hurt? You're not going to try to meet the beloved characters you know and love. You want to see the architecture and city up close. 

And that is what you did. You went to the two regions, made sure to avoid bumping into any familiar faces, and somewhat succeeded. However, it lasted only a short time when Itto and Scaramouche brought awareness to your presence in Sumeru and Inazuma. So, you left the two regions in a hurry, and now you're on this little heart island far out of Liyue, sitting at the edge of the island.

You bury your feet into the sand, watching the waters crash to shore and wet the sand above your feet. You wiggle your toes and shield your eyes from the sun. A large portal suddenly opens beside you, making you jump and stumble back. A tall Abyss Lector emerges from the portal, arms open and hovering toward you.

“Stay back!” You scream, grabbing the nearest object to use as a weapon.

The Abyss Lector cackles and stops before you, leaving a reasonable distance between you two. The Abyss Lector continues to stare at you in silence as if waiting for you to calm down. You take a step back. The Abyss Lector crosses their arms over their chest, chest rumbling with laughter. 

“What do you want from me?” You whisper.

“Watching you try and fail over and over is pathetic,” says the Abyss Lector.

You stare at the being before you blankly. Oh, so the Abyss Lector has been watching you try to befriend the beloved heroes of each region with mirth. Yeah, you would be doing the same thing if you weren't, well, you. You cross your arms over your chest and sigh as a sense of dread falls over you. You're alone in this heart island with the Abyss Lector, probably their next target aside from Teyvat and the Archons.

“If you're going to insult me, can you do it after you kill me? It'll save me from the embarrassment,” you mutter.

The Abyss Lector howls with laughter, head thrown back, shoulders bouncing. “Kill you? I have a proposition for you, and you are to decide whether you want to do it or not,” says the Abyss Lector.

You can't help but be wary of the Abyss Lector. While the Abyss Lector has yet to harm you, the Abyss has caused catastrophic harm in the past. You decide to listen to the Abyss Lector's proposition. The Abyssal creature went on a ten-minute tangent about the offer and would answer many of your pressing questions. To your surprise, the Abyss Lector was patient with your questions and had no issues with you not understanding certain parts of the proposition. You're grateful the Abyss Lector didn't attack you upon first meeting you— technically, the Abyss Lector created a portal near you on the heart island outside of Liyue.

“So? Do we have a deal or no deal?” asks the Abyss Lector, holding their hands out.

You press your lips into a thin line. Is this really what you want to do? You can’t turn your back on the people you adore. However, with how they treated you…. Does it really matter at this point? 

You furrow your eyebrows, nodding. “I accept your offer,” you say, placing your hand in the Abyss Lector's hand.

The Abyss Lector claps their hands. “Wonderful! Please, step into the portal, and we shall start our journey together,” says the Abyss Lector.

The Abyss Lector lets out a cackle and opens the portal. You and the Abyss Lector step into the portal, sealing your fate. Time flies in the Abyss— three days on Teyvat is three months in the Abyss. You didn't mind the drastic change of time and how fast time flies by in the Abyss. It took some time, but you were able to get used to it. Because you're not from Teyvat or from their universe, you mapped out the areas on Teyvat for the Abyss Order to target. You didn't have to do the attacking and invading like the Abyss Herald, Abyss Lectors, and other Abyssal creatures. All you have to do is sit on the throne and tell them what to do.

You sit on the throne in the Abyss, leaning on your right arm and watching the Abyssal creatures roam around. As the ruler of the Abyss Order, there wasn't much for you to do. Sometimes you would embark on your journey to Teyvat with the Abyss Lector, witnessing the damage being done to Teyvat. Usually, you would feel anger and sadness when the Abyss Order is harming the citizens of Teyvat and wanting to inflict harm on the Archons, but now? You could care less about what is being done to the people of Teyvat and their Archons.

“Your Highness, it's time,” says the Abyss Lector, kneeling at the foot of the throne.

This isn't the first time you'll be visiting Teyvat while the Abyss Order is running amock on Teyvat. But for some reason, you can't help but feel anxious about visiting Teyvat. The Abyss Lector, named Agnarr, holds their hand out for you to take. You take a deep breath and grab Agnarr's hand. Egill levitates forward, nodding. The two Abyss Lectors lead you out of the throne room of the Abyss, opening the portal to Teyvat.

Sumeru is on fire— literally. You and the two Abyss Lectors stand afar, watching the citizens of Sumeru scream and scramble out of the city while it's engulfed in flames. You see familiar faces running to the farthest part of Sumeru, but you pay no attention. Other Abyss Lectors and Heralds open various portals around Sumeru City, floating toward the Great Tree. Abyss Mages emerge out of thin air, cackling and attacking those they see.

“What do you think, Your Highness?” asks Enjou, appearing out of thin air, startling you.

You press your hand against your racing heart and take a deep breath. You turn to Enjou, glaring at the Pyro Abyss Lector, who cackles after seeing your reaction. You huff and glare at Enjou, who is now levitating before you with his arms over his chest. Enjou has the tendency to scare the crap out of you at every chance he gets. On the other hand, Agnarr and Egill aren't fond of the idea of Enjou popping on and out of places to get a reaction out of you.

You take a deep breath. “Enjou, can you please stop doing that?” You ask.

Enjou hums. “Hmmm, I don't think I can do that, Your Highness. It's my job to make sure you're stealthy and always alert! Who knows, someone could attack you while we're not at your side,” Enjou says nonchalantly. 

“They needn't worry about their safety when they're with us,” Agnarr hisses at Enjou.

Egill scoffs, crossing their arms over their chest. “As if we'd let them be in harm's way. Those who try to take the Abyss Order's Ruler shall fall and watch the world around them burn,” Egill hisses.

Enjou raises his hands, shaking his head. You sigh, turning back to the scene of the burning city of Sumeru. The screams and cries fill the chilly night, sending chills down your spine. It has taken you months to get used to hearing the anguished screams of the citizens of Teyvat, but the more you listen to it, the more you have gotten used to it. While you did not want to hurt the citizens of Teyvat and only specific people who have hurt you and turned you away, the Abyss Order spares no one. Not even children and animals.

“Burning down buildings and villages won't do much for the Abyss Order,” you murmur, stroking your chin. “We'll discuss this when we return to the Abyss.”

Agnarr, Enjou, and Egill nod their heads. You yawn as Egill opens a portal to the Abyss. The three Abyss Lectors all levitate toward the portal with you by their side. Before you can step into the portal, an arrow flies by your face, forcing you to come to a stop. Agnarr and Egill step in front of you to shield you from harm, glaring at the perpetrator. You peek from their arms to see what's going on, only to realize Enjou is standing in front of Agnarr and Egill, blocking the perpetrator's view of you.

“Who dares to try to harm their Highness!” Enjou growls, his hands bursting into flames.

You hear a familiar laugh— a bitter laugh that causes goosebumps to appear on your arms. Childe. 

“As if they weren't the ones that cause mass chaos on Teyvat,” Al Haitham hisses.

You peek from behind Agnarr's arms to see Al Haitham standing there, glaring at the three Abyss Lectors. Al Haitham isn't alone. In fact, he's accompanied by twenty-six familiar faces, along with Lumine and Paimon, standing beside her twin brother and Dainsleif. You roll your eyes, crossing your arms over your chest. You yawn dramatically, grabbing everyone's attention.

“If you're all finished with the dramatic entrance, I will be returning to my humble abode now,” you say with a blasé attitude.

Another arrow is shot, flying past your face and slicing your cheek open. You lightly touch the fresh cut on your cheek and gaze at the crimson blood on the tips of your fingers. You scoff, gazing at Gorou, who glares at you and bares his fangs, growling lowly. You wipe the blood on your clothes, shaking your head.

“Oh? So, you want to start something you can't finish?” You smirk bitterly. “Fine, have it your way, pests.”

Itto smirks. “Something we can't finish? I'm pretty sure you're the one that started something that you cannot finish!” Itto proclaims.

You prop your hands on your hips, glaring at the Oni. You cover your face with both hands briefly, sweeping your hands up and back your head, and your appearance changes instantly. Your eyes are bitch black, and the tips of your fingers are pitch black and dark blue with specs of glimmering stars that mimic the galaxy. A long cape similar to Dainsleif's drapes down your back and pools around your feet.

You close your eyes and begin muttering under your breath, your hair illuminating, and the shadows below you come to life, slithering toward your attackers. The first person to be snatched and dragged was Itto because of his annoying egotistical, and overly confident attitude. You hate how obnoxious he is, and he was once your favorite character from Inazuma due to his personality. 

But the longer you stay on Teyvat, the more you can't handle his loud personality. He reminds you too much of a particular person back in your world, and, quite frankly, hurting him will be another way of harming the person you knew in your world without actually harming them. Your patience and sanity have withered away, and you want to make them feel your wrath for how they have treated you since your arrival.

The shadowy tentacles wrap around Itto's ankles, yanking him up into the air before throwing him to the side. Itto lands on the ground with a hard thud, groaning in pain. You snicker and levitate in the air, crossing one leg over the other with your arms over your chest. A portal opens up behind you, and Dainsleif, Lumine, and Aether emerge from the portal, tackling you to the ground. You open the dirt ground, letting it swallow the four of you.

“How dare you attack the Ruler of the Abyss Order!” Enjou howls with anger, throwing balls of flames at your attackers.

Another portal opens beside Agnarr and Egill. You step out of the portal, dusting your clothes off with an infuriated sigh. Agnarr and Egill quickly whisk you away, opening up another portal. Scaramouche growls with anger, pointing at the portal as you, Agnarr, and Egill levitate away.

“They're getting away! Don't let them get away, dammit!” Scaramouche screams.

Xiao growls and appears before you in a blink of an eye and manages to kick you away from the two Abyss Lectors, sending you tumbling to the ground. You groan and kneel, looking up to see Xiao looming over you. Xiao clutches his jade spear so tight that he can snap it in half. The same jade spear you managed to get for him after blowing hundreds of dollars for that weapon on the damn weapon banner. Xiao raises his polearm up, preparing to impale you with his polearm. 

You wince and look away, bracing yourself to get impaled. You hear a loud squelch, a pained gasp, and an anguished scream. You turn to see Enjou's left hand sticking out of Xiao's chest— where his heart should be. You gulp and watch Enjou throw Xiao to the side, letting the Yaksha bleed out on the grass. Agnarr and Egill rush to you, pull you by your arm, and create a portal. The four of you soon fled the scene. 

“How disappointing. I wanted to see them all perish,” you sigh, plopping on your throne while rubbing your temples. “But it looks like I'll have to wait another day to witness the downfall.”

Agnarr comes forward. “Your Highness, are you alright?” asks Agnarr.

“I'm fine, Agnarr. I'm not physically harmed,” you murmur.

Egill gestures to your cheek. You subconsciously touch the wound on your cheek, feeling the stinging thin cut. It's a mere flesh wound, nothing more, nothing less. It's not like it can kill you unless it's laced with poison. If the arrowhead were to be laced with poison, you would've known immediately. It seems like this attack was more improvised than planned, given the fact how messy it turned out for the opposing side. 

You pinch the bridge of your nose. “I'm fine, Egill. It's a mere cut. It won't kill me,” you murmur, brushing away Egill's concern.

The one thing you wish didn't happen was fleeing the scene so quickly. You wanted to watch the opposing side fall. You want to witness the bloodshed in Sumeru. Due to a certain Yaksha almost successfully slaying you, you had to be ushered immediately out of the battlefield and to safety.

“That Adeptus nearly killed you, your Highness. That is inexcusable, and he deserves every ounce of punishment from the Abyss Order,” Agnarr hisses.

You chuckle, shaking your head. It would be funny to see Xiao try and kill you. If he did manage to kill you successfully, the Ruler of the Abyss Order, then who knows how the Abyss Order will react. Watching the downfall of the Archons and the citizens of Teyvat is something you surely do not want to miss out on. 

“I agree with you, Agnarr. Those who intentionally try to harm the ruler of the Abyss Order shall fall and watch the world around them burn and crumble to the ground,” you nod.

After what happened today, you will not be returning to Teyvat until further notice. It's best to remain in the shadows while the Abyss Order does what you say from behind the scenes. In order to take down an entire region, aside from terrorizing the cities and its citizens, you need to take down the beloved Archons of each nation. But the question is: what Archon is going to be your first target? The Anemo Archon? The Geo Archon? The Electro Archon? The Dendro Archon? Heck, maybe the Hydro Archon? You have yet to step foot into the City of Justice, but seeing some familiar faces from her region makes your blood boil.

“What is on your mind, Your Highness?” Enjou asks.

You shrug your shoulders. “Which Archons do you think is the most annoying?” You ask, getting up from your throne. 

The three Abyss Lectors gaze at you quizzically. While their faces are covered, you can tell they’re confused about what you’re implying. You sigh, rubbing your temples. You’re not sure if you can pull it off, but it’s worth a try, right? Is kidnapping an Archon risky? You're the Ruler of the Abyss Order, for fucks sake. So you continued where you left off. 

“Now, I have yet to meet the Geo, Dendro, Hydro, and Electro Archon, so I can’t make a judgment on how annoying they are. However, I did meet the Anemo Archon and….” You trail off, face pinching up with disgust. “What I'm trying to say is let's kidnap an Archon,” you conclude, clapping your hands.

“The question is, who are we going to be kidnapping, your Highness?” Enjou asks.

Your first answer was to kidnap the dear Anemo Archon of Mondstadt. However, thinking back to your encounter with the said Archon, you sure as hell do not want to deal with him again. The first encounter was already enough for you, and the Bard doesn't seem like he would put up much of a fight. You want a challenge, and an Archon who is “deceased” would be the first step to go. Who would notice an Archon disappearing overnight? An Archon who isn't really dead.

That's how you find yourself standing before the Geo Archon in the ruins of Liyue. You could kidnap Zhongli and bring him to the Abyss, but you knew the Abyss would rapidly deteriorate his sanity, and you didn't want that. Yet. The Geo Archon is tied up against a tree in the Chasm, his mouth taped shut to prevent him from calling for a certain Yaksha. The Geo Archon stares at you emotionlessly.

“The citizens of Liyue aren't the brightest. Assuming their God is dead when he's roaming among them, alive and well,” you say, crossing your arms over your chest. “We never met, and I deeply apologize for this being our first meeting.”

Is it really your first time meeting Zhongli? Zhongli was there when you, Agnarr, Egill, and Enjou were in Sumeru, watching the city burn to the ground. Though, he did not attack you like how the others have tried to attack you. You weren't sure if the Geo Archon had something up his sleeves, but you can't help but feel satisfied with how easy it was to kidnap the Geo Archon. It's almost too easy for your liking.

Zhongli glares at you as you approach him. You grab the tape from the corner and peel it off Zhongli’s lips so he can speak. It’s not like Zhongli is going to call out the name of the short Yaksha to save him. A Geo Archon like himself doesn’t need a savior. Zhongli can get himself out of this situation without an issue, and you’re surprised to see Zhongli not fighting back. Would Zhongli stand a chance against three Abyss Lectors in the corner, watching his every move?

“I see you're the new Ruler of the Abyss. Such a shame to see someone not of this universe become something that destroys the world they once loved,” Zhongli says nonchalantly.

You smirk at Zhongli bitterly. “Once loved, Zhongli. What's there to love when all I've been receiving is hate and being treated like I wasn't human? Your little Yaksha nearly killed me when I first stepped into Liyue,” you hiss, clenching your fist so tightly that your nails dig into the palm of your hands.

You didn't want to become those cliche villains who talk the victim's ears off— talking about your tragic background and how you became who you are. But here you are, talking the Geo Archon's ears off about how you were treated when you encountered the people who did you wrong. You wanted to meet the characters— the people— you adored, but you were cast aside. 

Heck, even the hilichurls and mitachurls treated you better than how the Archons and prominent figures of Teyvat treated you. The citizens of Teyvat treat you no differently. They went along with their day and would glance at you every now and then when you visited the cities. They treated you better than those who had visions. And yet here you are, burning down their homes, crops, and businesses all because of a small handful of people making you feel unwelcomed and unsafe when stepping into their nation.

“I'm going to be generous and not kill you. However, I do want something from you, and it's not your gnosis. Your gnosis is useless to me,” You say, standing before the (former) Geo Archon.

Zhongli stares at you, not saying a word. You sigh with disappointment. You don't know how much longer you can take this. Seeing the Geo Archon before you, tied up and defenseless, is fun, but at the same time, it's pathetic. Then again, you would rather be stuck in the same room as Zhongli than the Bard you met in Mondstadt. You squat before Zhongli and grab him by his hair to make him look at you.

“And what is it do you want?” Zhongli asks through clenched jaws. 

Just when you open your mouth to tell him what you want, a polearm pierces you through the chest. You tighten your grip on Zhongli's hair, gasping in pain. You look down to see the blade of Zhongli's vortex vanquisher buried deep in your chest cavity. You release Zhongli and stumble back, hands shaking as you grab the polearm. Zhongli glares down at you, his amber eyes glowing with hate and anger. 

“Did you think you would succeed?” Zhongli hisses, digging the polearm deeper into your chest.

You lie on the ground, blood pooling beneath you while Zhongli stands over you. Zhongli notices the Abyss Lectors have yet to attack him. You, their precious Ruler, are impaled, and yet they're doing nothing to help you. You grab the base of Zhongli's polearm, trying to pull the blade out of your chest, only to fail. You struggled for a few minutes before going limp. Eyes glazed over as your lifeless eyes stared into his soul. Zhongli furrows his eyebrows, questioning why it's so easy to kill you and why the Abyss Lectors didn't attack him for impaling and killing you in front of them.

The tense and quiet air in the Chasm is soon broken by the sound of clapping from a distance. Zhongli looks up to see you leaning against the wall with an amused look on your face. You descended the stairs in all your glory— the very same cape flowing behind you. Zhongli narrows his eyes at you and then at your lifeless body on the ground.

“You put on quite the show, Morax. However, you killed the wrong person,” you giggle.

Your lifeless body soon evaporates into a puff of smoke as the Abyss Lectors stand beside you, forming a barrier between you and the Geo Archon. 

You sigh, running your fingers through your hair. “It's such a shame to see my clone get slaughtered in front of me,” you mutter, shaking your head with disapproval.

“You....” Zhongli trails off.

You tilt your head to the side, pouting at him mockingly. “I what? Did you think you would successfully kill the Ruler of the Abyss? Oh, please! I wouldn't make it easy for you,” you giggle.

You walk toward Zhongli and caress his face. “You're not in your prime time anymore, Morax. You’ll need to do way more than stab me in the chest to get rid of me,” you whisper. “If you'll excuse me, I have a business to tend to. Agnarr and Egill will be keeping you company while Enjou and I are gone.”

Your clone's blood is splattered on Zhongli's face— not going to lie, Zhongli looks attractive with blood on his face. You let your hand fall to your side, smirk at the Funeral Consultant, and turn around, opening a portal for you and Enjou. 

Once you step through the portal with Enjou, the portal closes, leaving Zhongli and the two Abyss Lectors alone. Zhongli clenches his jaws, tightening his grip on his polearm. Zhongli's not going down without a fight, and he will find a way to escape one way or the other. The first thing he needs to do is get rid of the two Abyss Lectors. He could call Xiao for assistance, but Zhongli can handle this on his own.

In the Abyss, you sit on your throne with your legs crossed over the other as you stare at the two Abyss Lectors. You tap your fingers on the armrest, gaze falling upon the kneeling blond before you. Dainsleif is in cuffs, glaring up at you. When you arrived at the Abyss with Enjou, you were informed that the two Hydro and Cryo Abyss Lectors had captured a certain blond. Now, you're unsure of why Dainsleif was popping in and out of the Abyss, but you have an inkling feeling it's to hunt you down.

“Care to explain by the Abyss Lectors found you roaming around the Abyss?” You grumble.

Dainsleif doesn't reply and continues to glare at you. Dainsleif has cuts littering his body, his lip is cut open, and he looks like he was dragged through debris. Nonetheless, you could care less about his condition at the moment. You sit up and rest your elbows on your knees, raising an eyebrow at the blond man. You sit back and close your eyes, pinching the bridge of your nose and letting out a slow exhale.

Dainsleif stumbles up while struggling in his cuffs, only for the Cryo Abyss Lector to grunt with annoyance, hitting the blond man on the back of his head. Dainsleif grunts in pain and collapses to the ground on his knees. You click your tongue and open your eyes, gazing into Dainsleif's blue eyes. Dainsleif continues not to say anything, glaring at the ground.

“Your Highness, are you hungry?” Enjou whispers.

You shake your head and dismiss Enjou's question. You leave your throne and step toward the kneeling blond man. Enjou reaches forward and grabs you by your wrist. You turn to Enjou, who shakes his head. You give Enjou a reassuring smile— Enjou swallows. Ever since you agreed to become the new Ruler of the Abyss, Enjou and the other Abyss Lectors, Heralds, and Abyssal creatures have yet to see you smile or laugh. You always have this deep frown and glare— you glared so much that it's permanent at this point.

You step toward Enjou. “I'll be fine, Enjou,” you whisper.

Enjou reluctantly releases your wrist, watching you turn and walk to Dainsleif. You stop before Dainsleif, grab him by the chin, and tilt his head up. Dainsleif stares at you. You want to laugh after seeing him in this state. This is your first time seeing Dainsleif in such a state. It's pathetic and comical. Someone persistent with searching for the Abyss twin, traversing through many regions and maybe even universes, just to find them and snap them out of it. And now Dainsleif is here, kneeling before you and looking pathetic. 

“Never in my life would I see you in this position, Dainsleif. It's shocking and pathetic,” you say nonchalantly. “Care to tell me why you're here? If you're here to kill me, you're going to have to try harder than that. The Geo Archon tried and failed to do so.”

Dainsleif continues not to speak. You release Dainsleif's chin with an annoyed sigh, crossing your arms over your chest. It seems like Dainsleif is even more stubborn than you thought. You wanted to laugh in Dainsleif's face. Why is he in the Abyss, kneeling before you with handcuffs? You would understand if the Abyss Lectors and Heralds captured him for roaming around the Abyss. However, the lack of response from the blond man is putting you on edge. 

Dainsleif lets out a shaky sigh. "I'm here to get you out of the Abyss. You becoming the Ruler of the Abyss Order was a mistake that was never meant to happen," Dainsleif says.

You cross your arms over your chest. Yeah, and your appearance in Teyvat was never meant to happen either, but here you are. You walk to your throne and sit, gesturing for Dainsleif to continue on. If Dainsleif continues to blabber on about something you don't care about, then you're going to call it a day and retreat to your bedroom, and the Abyss Lectors can toss Dainsleif in his prison cell. How could you not join the Abyss Order? Plus, why is Dainsleif suddenly backtracking when your first meeting was the opposite? 

You chuckle bitterly and shake your head. "Oh. Dainsleif. You're a bit too late for that. This is where I truly belong— with the Abyss Order as their Ruler. None of this would've happened if none of you treated me that way," you hiss.

You stand abruptly and begin walking off.

Dainsleif stands. "Wait! Don't leave!" Dainsleif hollers.

You turn around and glare at Dainsleif. Your eyes turn pitch black. "Goodbye, Dainsleif. If you, or anyone, continue to get in my way, I will make sure there's nothing left behind on Teyvat."

And with that, you turn around and storm off with Enjou following you. Dainsleif watches you disappear into the darkness, shoulders slumping. Your nails dig into the palm of your hands, drawing blood. How dare Dainsleif march into the Abyss, demanding for you to leave the Abyss Order when he and the others are the reason why you turn to the Abyss Order for help. The Abyss Order is the only group that accepts you and does not hurt you like how the others did. If they want you to leave the Abyss Order so badly, then they can fight you to the death because you refuse to leave. The Abyss Order is where you truly belong.

Note: I feel like this fic falls under the same route as any other SAGAU fics where the rejected creator!reader joins the Abyss Order because they treat the reader better than the Genshin characters. I haven't read fanfics for Genshin in a while, so idk what's trending nowadays for Genshin. Anyway, I am now going to close the voting for Burning Desire voting for Route 3! Thank you for your votes, and we shall wait and see what happens in the third route! I might take a break from writing (like a one-week break), but idk if I'll go through with it 💀 [this part is copied and pasted from my previous fanfic regarding the Discord server] For those who want to join my Discord server, here is the temporary link to [Zhongli's Abode]. Please make sure to read the server rules to save yourself from getting in trouble (if you like the server, you can stay, chat, and lurk. If not, you can leave if you don't vibe with it ^^). Anyway, to all my new and returning readers, keep in mind that I ONLY post on my Tumblr (Genshinluvr) and my AO3 (Aaliah_exo)! Nowhere else except Tumblr and AO3!

Taglist for my Isekai'd!Reader one-shot series and my overall taglist: @yoru-trash, @kaoyamamegami, @deartoru, @luminarymoonlight, @ins4nebish, @bokuto-kinnie, @exhaustedcommunist, @jadedist, @chalksdreams, @thelost-in-time, @ventisweetheart, @hispasian-otaku, @samarill, @testsubject0012, @kazuhaprnt, @lunarapple, @heyimkay, @eliciana, @jjvr4yxc, @sovermike-21-blog, @nightlysunn, @thelovebuggs, @urlocalheizousimp, @sunlightstarr, @asoulsreverie (Accounts that I was unable to tag have been removed. Those who don't want to be tagged in certain stories are not tagged in this particular post. Remember to check your settings to see if you're allowing people to mention you/tag you in posts or not)

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[forthewomenonly]

You Belong to Me

Warnings: NSFW, smut, Sam Carpenter x reader, Sam Carpenter x Fem Reader (implied, no pronouns used), choking, semi exhibitionism, fingering (R receiving), oral (R receiving) , Top!Sam, jealous Sam, R’s really a pillow princess in this one (Sam gets nothing)  a/n: Lowkey hated on Ethan this entire fic sorry guys. Made him sound like a bitchy pervert...he is.

Sam was jealous. This isn’t a surprise Sam is always jealous, but she’s seething watching him shamelessly flirt with you in the comfort of her own home. Him being Ethan Landry. Sam hates Ethan Landry and his feigned innocence, she sees the way he looks at you. Of course she sees it, Sam looks at you the exact same way. He’s not the innocent virgin angel he claims to be, and the thought of him thinking of you in anyway other than platonically makes Sam feel violently nauseous. Ethan comes over twice a week to study with Tara, meaning that twice a week he gets to see you. How could he be so blind? Obviously you were Sam’s, everyone knew that. Yet it doesn’t stop him from throwing an arm over your shoulder, or complimenting your outfits in ways that are far too descriptive to be seen as friendly. Sam wants Ethan out of her home, and she briefly considers asking Tara if they would relocate their study sessions elsewhere. She quickly dismisses that thought as she realizes she doesn’t want her baby sister anywhere alone with that perv. She narrows her eyes, grimacing as she notices Ethan lean over and whisper something in your ear. The fit of giggles that you erupt into is more than enough to soften her gaze. But how dare he. How dare he make you laugh like that, that was Sam’s job. You aren’t Ethan’s. You belong to her. You belong to Sam. She grips the kitchen counter tightly, knuckles turning white and her hand veins bulging. Sam’s huffy and irritant, counting down the seconds until Ethan leaves her apartment. Her ears perk up as she hears Ethan finally begin to pack up his belongings, she walks up to the front door in long strides, opening the door to speed up the process of his departure. After hugging you for much longer than necessary he meets the angry Carpenter at the door. “Bye Sam!” he waves. Sam grumbles some distasteful words under her breath in annoyance. Not that he could hear her anyways as she slammed the door in his face the second he stepped out of the apartment.   --- The next time Ethan comes over, Sam is prepared. He doesn’t get a chance to say hello to either of you as Sam drags you into your shared bedroom the very moment Ethan walks in. You laugh as she shuts the room door in haste turning to face you. “What’s got you all riled up today” you say playfully poking at her chest. “You.” She growls. Your teasing grin wiped off your face instantly. Sam lunges forward capturing your lips in a heated kiss, moving downwards to kiss and suck at your throat. She all but tears your clothes off leaving you naked in front of her. “Sam- slow down.” you gasp out. You’re unsure of what has her so excited at the moment but you welcome the lustful attention, reaching your hands down to the hem of her shirt, lifting it over her head. You stop briefly taking a moment to gawk at Sam’s shirtless body. God she looks so hot. Her arm muscles are so defined and her forearm veins are so attractively visible, blood pulsing through her hand and arm veins from how hard she’s gripping your hips. She removes herself from you, settling down on the bed and propping herself up on her elbows. Immediately you follow her to the bed climbing on her stomach. Sam inhales sharply when she feels your wet cunt against her skin. Placing your hands on her chest, you rock yourself against the ridges of her abs. You let out a loud moan rolling your hips faster against her, Sam’s hands guide your hips in a steady rhythm. She flexes her abdomen and quickens pace making your body shudder, your moans increasing in volume. Usually Sam would have slapped her hand over your mouth by now to keep you quiet, but when you look down at her she just smirks at you, moving your hips faster against her. “Sam I c-can’t” you whine out desperately. The corners of her lips quirk up into a smile and she flips you onto your back. Sam knew that you wouldn’t be able to cum just from grinding on her stomach, you needed her help. You always do. You need Sam to make you cum, not Ethan, not anyone else. Sam. She prides herself in the fact that you’re no longer able to get yourself off properly. You can’t make yourself cum anymore, your own fingers incomparable to Sam’s fingers, tongue, or strap. Moving her hand down, Sam harshly presses her thumb against your puffy clit and you cry out loudly. Since she has decided against quieting you, you reach your hand up to cover your mouth yourself as Sam continues playing with your sensitive bundle of nerves. She can see you biting your hand and is not at all impressed. Sam grabs both of your wrists and pins them above your head with one hand, while using the other to roughly shove two fingers inside your dripping cunt. The muscular girl removes her hand from your wrists and uses it to squeeze your throat, she feels your pussy flutter against her fingers as she drags them through your gummy inner walls. Your moans are loud and frequent, making Sam quicken her pace and curl her fingers, massaging your g-spot with each thrust. You cum with an obscenely loud pornographic moan, soaking Sam’s fingers and grinding into her hand. Sam moves down the bed, using her strength to pry your legs wider open. Opening her mouth to messily lick up all of your juices, she has a mix of her saliva and your wetness dripping down her chin and onto the bedsheets. Licking wide stripes through your folds and up to your clit. She takes the pulsing nub between her lips, sucking vigorously. You’re close to orgasm again and you buck your hips up trying to press yourself harder against Sam’s tongue. “Gonna cum Sam, gonna c-cum so hard.” you whine. Her fingers press harder into your thighs and you’re sure they’ll bruise. She lifts her head up looking you in the eye before pushing her fingers back inside of you, in place of her tongue. “Say my name.” “ W-what?” “Say. my. name.” she repeats. “Sam. Feels so good Sammy.” you moan breathlessly. You clench impossibly tight around her long, thick fingers and Sam knows you’re about to cum. “My name, say it again when you cum. I want to hear it.” “Fuck Sam! I’m cumming!” you scream out, rolling your hips out in time with her slowing thrusts. She pulls her fingers out, pushing them into your mouth making you taste yourself. Sam stands up brushing your damp hair out of your face delicately and  kisses the tip of your nose. She pulls a shirt on before exiting the room to grab you water. Walking up to the fridge she can see her younger sister’s disgusted expression and has to fight the urge to snicker. Turning her head she sees Ethan. It was her name you moaned, not Ethan’s. He’ll never get to have you like this because you’re all Sam’s. His jaw is slack, eyes wide, and his gaze flitters everywhere in the room except for Sam, he avoids eye contact with her desperately. Clearing his throat he packs up his belongings and gives Tara a meek “goodbye”. Sam smirks in victory, before turning to walk back into your room, water bottle in hand.

Tara rolls her eyes exasperated, now she has to study all alone just because her sister got jealous. Sam can be a real dick sometimes. 

[feyascorner]

5 | The Fangs Between Us

summary. When he had his cold hands wrapped around your neck, it felt as if they belonged to death themselves. And in that moment, you knew that even if you struggled against him, if he genuinely wanted you dead, you would have no power to push him away. You would have no choice but to let the grasp of death pull you into the ground, underneath the surface, into the unknown.

You realize that, perhaps, the Astarion you knew was nothing but a pretty lie.

warnings. angst, comfort, slow burn, reader is a bard, italics are flashbacks/dreams

pairing. Astarion x GN!Reader

parts. TFBU masterlist

a/n. 6.4k words?!!? 😆 whenever i write for this fic i have the constant urge to make him grovel out of nowhere, and to compensate, i make him even worse

“You were my first, you know.”

You raise both your brows, your eyes still trained on the lake stretching out to what seems like forever. The boulder beneath you feels cool to the touch against your skin. “Really?”

He nods, setting his book down to his lap. “Cazador, that crazy bastard, never let us drink from anything besides rats. We were strictly forbidden from humanoid blood because it would let us become too powerful.”

You squint at him. “...Well, what does it taste like?”

“Your blood?”

“Humanoid blood.”

He looks nowhere, as if he’s in thought, before humming, pleased at the taste that lingers on his tongue. “Exquisite.”

“That’s it?”

“Your blood was sweet, almost. Rat blood is terribly bitter, you see, and I only drank it for survival. But yours,” he grins widely. “I could drink nothing but yours for the rest of my immortal life, and I would never tire of it.”

Your face heats, and of course, him being him, it doesn't go unnoticed. He sets his book aside and shifts so he has one arm propped up next to you, his face dangerously close to yours. “I think you rather like the sound of that, darling.”

“It doesn’t sound…terrible,” you mumble. “Better than turning into a mind flayer, at least.”

His lips are inches from yours, so you instinctively tilt your head, allowing space for him to reach your neck. But his free hand reaches your cheek and tilts your head back, making you meet his eyes. It’s so close. So impossibly intimate that you pray he doesn't hear the way your heart pounds in your chest.“That’s not what I want right now, love.”

You nod slowly when his eyes flicker to your lips, and he’s pressed against you in an instant, your lips molding together as if they were made for one another. Even though you know they’re not, his arms feel warm when wrapped around you, and you bury yourself closer as if there’s even any space left between the two of you.

You know this must be a dream. But you’re not sure if you want to wake up at all.

But suddenly, your entire body feels terribly cold. Too cold, as if your very life is being sapped away from its roots, leaving nothing but a husk of a person behind. So you tear away, as much as you don’t want to, and see that you are no longer sitting before your lover. The spawn that nearly killed you in the alleyway is sitting in Astarion’s place, his teeth stained with blood as he smiles at you. Instinctively, you shriek and try to crawl away, but the sharp pain at your throat ceases your movement, making your hand fly up to the puncture wounds you’re sure to find.

Instead, you only find that your neck is sore from the bruises that bloom on your skin.

And as you stare at the spawn in horror, you realize that he’s not a random spawn. He’s covered in so much blood that you can’t even see his snow-white hair beneath the carnage, and all that stares back at you is a man who only resembles your lover. He lifts a hand, reaching sharp, maintained nails toward your face, and all you can do is brace yourself for what’s to come.

You just hope he ends the pain quickly.

The last tenday has been nothing short of hellish.

The walk home from Sharress’ Caress had been a deathly silence—one where you refused to look anywhere but your feet–-and even once you arrived home to the chaos between Shadowheart and Lae’zel unfolding right before your eyes, you only watched Astarion pace up the stairs as if nothing is wrong. Even as they yelled at him, asking what he had to say for himself, he’d only scoffed and shut the door to his room.

‘A man child,’ Shadowheart had called him. Lae’zel said her offer of skewering him with her spear was still available.

You hadn’t corrected her that time.

As you clearly had too many personal emotions, you swallowed your pride and decided to pass the investigation off to one of your companions. You gave the list of spawn killings to Gale, asking him to take charge of the investigation starting that very night. He didn’t ask why.

The days after that were spent in a blur. Aside from the nightmares that only seem to get worse, your life in the daytime is as it was before the bodies started piling up. You spend every waking moment focusing on rebuilding the rest of the city now that you have all the time in the world. Only without the workload did you realize how time-consuming the investigation had been, and without it, your life feels strangely dull. It’s not unwelcome–at least, not now, anyway.

And as another day passes in a state of mind that is not your own, you slump face-first into your mattress. 

You only ever seem to return home in the dead of night anymore. Construction runs through the clock, and by the time you’ve managed to say your farewells to the people in the city, the sun’s long past said its own goodbye. Still, you suppose coming home late is better than falling asleep outside.

The handle of your dagger sticks into the side of your stomach, and you fish it out, laying on your back as you examine the bejeweled blade. It’s a pretty little thing, no matter how many sleepless nights you’ve spent staring at the beauty of something that’s taken countless lives. Most of which were his doing, even if you’re racking up quite the number on your own.

You want to hate him, but you’ve come to accept that perhaps you’ve grown soft. Maybe you’ve been surrounded by warmth for too long and now find that the hate you were once so accustomed to has now rendered itself to mush. You’ll learn to hate him—that much you’ve sworn—but you don’t want him dead as he seems to do with you. You have plenty of reason to hate him, and a part of you does, but it’s not enough to rival his distaste for you.

He’s made it clear enough that you cannot hate him the way he hates you.

You pace over to your drawer and place the blade in the deepest corner, where nothing but shadows will know of its existence. As you push the drawer shut, you hope that the next time you see the dagger, you’ll have forgotten it had been there in the first place.

You hear the window in his room slide open and then shut closed again. And if you were anyone else, it would cause an instant panic, but you’ve grown accustomed to the sound of it opening each night. And while the responsible thing should be to let the others know that he’s sneaking out every other night, you can’t find the energy to. Your sentiments toward him may be mixed, but you don’t want the only lead for the spawn case to be taken away just because he was sneaking out like a teenager in their rebellious phase.

There’s a more selfish reason why you’re keeping this secret of his, though you plan on taking it to your grave. It keeps him from approaching you with the request to go hunting. With Gale and Shadowheart busy with the spawn and Lae’zel not to be trusted around Astarion, you’re the only one capable of following him to his weekly supply restock. But you doubt he needs much animal blood when he has others ready for him at the pleasure house, and if this is his only way of getting there, then so be it.

You’re not really sure how to feel about it. It’s not a nice feeling, though.

“There’s someone here for you.”

You look up toward the doorway where Shadowheart leans with crossed arms. She points toward the stairs, and you force your legs up despite their insistent soreness from the past few days. They ache, but you’d rather burst into flames than stand another second longer than you have to in this room. You don’t have the energy to assess the look she’s giving you as you pass by her shoulder.

The man at the door is one your intuition seems to recognize, but your mind comes up empty. The emotions don’t seem mutual, as he straightens his back the second he spots you.  “You.”

You glaze your tired eyes over his attire–one with the mark of the Flaming Fist proudly posted on his chest. He shifts, and you notice his short brown hair peeking from under his helmet. “Yes, me. You called for me.”

He clears his throat, blinking wide grey pupils with a hesitant glint. “I apologize for what I said the last time we met. It wasn’t for me to step out of line like that.”

You stare at him quizzically, unsure of who this man even is. He notices. “Wait, don’t you remember me?”

“...No?”

“I was at Roger Highberry’s murder scene! Yevir? I interrogated you for nearly an hour!” his jaw drops, and you somewhat make out his face from the blurry segments of your memories. All of which are not entirely pleasant, from what you can recall. The accusations thrown in your direction for being responsible for the murders were already cruel enough, but you remember how a fight nearly broke out between the two of you, making your lips purse.

You rub the side of your head to soothe whatever headache is sure to follow soon. “What do you want? Are you here to ask if I’ve been murdering people again?”

There’s one you might be so inclined to murder right now, just upstairs. Figuratively. Well, maybe…

“No,” he seems flustered, and you’d feel bad if it were not for your last interaction. “Like I said, I wanted to apologize. I was in no place to accuse you of something so horrid, and I did so without solid proof. I was—desperate and lost my composure.”

At this, your ear perks. An apology after the complete bullshit you’ve been through the past few weeks doesn’t sound bad at all. Still, your caution remains as you lift your chin, eyes lidded. “...You just came to apologize?”

“Yes. Ah, and–” he reaches into his pocket, scrummaging around until he pulls out a scroll wrapped neatly with a red bow. You arch a brow, and he holds it out to you. “My men were attacked last night at the pier next to the Blushing Mermaid. This is the file report I wrote up this morning.”

The Blushing Mermaid. Despite the hopes that had sparked with the conversation with one of Cora’s orphans, Shadowheart had come up completely empty after numerous visits to the tavern. She only mentioned a few brawls, which quickly had Fist rushing in or a couple of drunk smugglers, but that was it. By now, you assumed the tavern itself had no connections to the spawn murder sprees that increased in numbers nearly daily. Perhaps Roger Highberry had just been at the wrong place and the wrong time.

“We tried to talk to them—one, at least,” he continues as you let the scroll unroll on itself. “They seem to be looking for someone. They said they were only willing to listen to the ‘bard’---which I assume is supposed to be you.”

Your face hardens as you scan the report, acknowledging the details scribbled into the sheet in messy handwriting and the bags under his eyes to go along with it. “What were they looking for?”

“Another spawn, we think, judging from what we gathered before they became hostile.”

Despite how your heart sinks into your stomach, you swallow the lump in your throat and tear your eyes away from the report. Who else could it possibly be? And though you want to lie to yourself that perhaps, on some strange chance, this other spawn is someone other than the one residing right beside your room, you know it’s a foolish belief to pray on.

Astarion had tried to sacrifice all 7000 souls of the undead right before their very eyes. The ritual–if you could even call it that–-was mass murder. One he very nearly executed.

You were only unsure if the other spawn sought him out to reconcile or for something much bloodier. You’d likely bet on the latter.

“Have you shown this to the Duke yet?”

“No,” he admits, almost shamefully. “I couldn’t.”

He must be able to tell your shock because his face crumples. “There was someone among them. A friend. I thought she’d gone missing years ago, but…On this small chance that maybe she’s still there, I came here to ask…”

His fists clench, his gaze darting anywhere but your own with a hesitance you’ve become all too accustomed to the past few weeks. Still, they have a glimmer of hope as he swallows hard. “...If you’d be willing to help me.”

You can’t mask the way your eyes widen. He blinks rapidly and immediately reaches to dig around his other pocket, where he hauls out a bag that jingles with the contents inside. The familiar ring of gold. The sack itself is shabby, old enough to split open at any second, and it’s only the size of his palm, but he holds it as if it’s a fragile glass piece. “It’s all I have. I know I’m in no position to ask you for help, especially with how I treated you last time we met…but I’m desperate, and I know the Duke must trust you for a reason.”

“You want me to do what exactly?”

“Let me speak to her. Please.”

Almost instantly, you push the pouch back to his chest, eyes narrowing. “A vampire spawn won’t be the same person you knew.”

“I know. But surely, she would at least recognize me-”

“She’ll be different. She won’t hesitate to kill for blood. Not even yours, if she’s hungry.” This much, you know.

“I know,” he blurts louder. “Please. If I go to the Duke, he’s sure to raid the tavern, and she might get killed in the process. If I was the reason that she died, I don’t know—I can’t even—”

She’s already dead, you think. The words nearly escape your thoughts, but you bite your tongue hard enough to draw blood, sealing it shut.

“Her heart no longer beats for you.” Just give up, you plead. Understand that she is not the woman she was. You notice the irony of the statement, but it doesn’t stop you, desperate to prevent this man from making the same mistakes as your own.

“My own heart beats enough for the both of us.”

And perhaps it’s because of the glint in his eyes that feels all too familiar to your own. Or maybe it’s because of the way he appears on the brink of tears and the eyebags dragging at his skin. Or perhaps it’s a more selfish reason of your own. But regardless of what the reason is, the report crumples in your fist as you nod stiffly.

“We’ll do what we can.”

You swing the door shut harder than you probably should, but the sun feels too bright on your skin. And his imploring eyes only hinder your resolve to drift away from all that’s happening. You claimed you’d try, not that you’d produce results. It might be a selfish thing to do—ignoring a person in need—but does it matter, really?

Is it so bad for you to be selfish for once?

Gods, who are you kidding? You’ll end up helping anyway, especially after he came to ask you in person.

Thinking too long hurts your head. When you turn to climb back up the stairs, your heart nearly stops as you realize you’re not alone in the room.

Blood-red eyes bore into the side of your head, his presence almost nonexistent with how his chest doesn’t even move to allow him to breathe. He stands across the room, unmoving and still, as if time itself has stopped for the two of you. You suppose for him, it has.

But you know better now. At least, you think so. For him, time may be something irrelevant, but for you, it continues flowing, leaving no chance to catch up if you dare to fall behind. And you no longer want to chase the ticking hand of your own clock to attune yourself to his. He’s made himself clear, and you refuse to waste away precious years of your own life to mourn his. So, instead of gawking at him like a deer in headlights, you lock the door and pace up the stairs, barely brushing past his shoulders. You have half a heart to shove past him, but considering you barely manage what you did, you think better of it. 

The entire time, his eyes follow you like a hawk.

“What was that Fist here for?” he asks as you reach the top.

You don’t bother looking back at him. “...Spawns killed a few soldiers last night.”

A pause. “Surely that’s not all.”

“That’s all you need to know unless you plan on helping us,” you snap. You wish you sounded as cold as you would’ve liked, but instead, it comes out like a last-ditch effort, as he barely acknowledges the bite in your tone.

“Are we not discussing the very spawns whom I called my dear siblings for two centuries? It’s very much my business.”

“And you think those spawn—which you tried to kill for a bloody ritual, might I add— still consider you their brother?”

That shuts him up.

He doesn’t say anything else, and you take the opportunity to march straight into your room. Your chest swells in a pitiful pride as you force yourself not to glance behind you, admittedly relieved you were at least able to manage some semblance of a cold shoulder, even if it wasn’t as dramatic as his own. Ignoring him is childish and quite frankly, a bandage on a more significant wound, but even this feels like a small victory after his last words to you.

“Do you?”

“Do I what?”

“Hate me.”

“Yes. More than anyone.”

You try not to let your face fall by rubbing your temples with your thumbs again, soothing the headache that threatens to wrack your body. He’s drawn his line, and it’s time to draw your own.

Shadowheart, who hasn’t budged from where you last saw her, grins. Judging from her smugness, she must’ve heard you. “Didn’t know you had it in you.”

“Me neither.”

She holds out her palm, and you weigh if you should even give her the report before giving in, placing it for her to read. Her eyes skim over the contents as you anxiously shift your weight on both legs. And eventually, she lowers the sheet. “I’ll deal with this.”

“But they’re looking for me. They won’t cooperate unless–”

“I’ll deal with this,” she repeats, folding the report before pocketing it into her pants. “Focus on repairing the city.”

“Shadowheart-”

“You entrusted us with this, and we plan to follow through. You’ve done more than enough for this city already,” she sighs. “And besides, we could use a bard around here.”

She gently shoves you toward your door. Despite your hesitance, she gives you an assuring nod and begins heading for the stairs, giving you no space to insist on offering your aid. You’re left standing idly in the hall, brows knitting together even as you reassure yourself that she and Gale are more than capable of handling themselves.

But then again, you’d thought the same for yourself. Clearly, after the night you nearly died and the nightmares that haunt you of that very same night, you’d been wrong.

You hear footsteps you’ve memorized as ones to avoid, and just as you see the tips of his white curls, you rush into your room, slamming the door shut behind you.

You need a drink.

“Haven’t seen you in days.”

You slump onto one of the wooden stools at the bar, rubbing at the soreness of your own shoulder from hours of hauling rubble and debris from more crowded parts of town where they could pose a danger. The other citizens who had worked alongside you trail in through the tavern door, laughing and cheering at today’s accomplishments as they sit across the tables. In an instant, the relatively calm tavern becomes rowdy and filled with life. Your eyes glaze over their victorious expressions as you respond. “Been busy.”

“You’re the only customer I don’t want to see, you know?” Alan wipes at one of his glass cups with a cloth. You wonder if he ever tries on his bartending uniform or if it just rots in the back of his closet. “Thought I finally got rid of you.”

“I bring plenty of business, so what’s to dread?” you offer him a lopsided smile, watching him as he pours your favorite beverage into a cup, almost routine-like. “I brought in plenty of customers when I performed here, too. If anything, I’d think you’d be grateful to see me.”

“I said I don’t like you as a customer, not an employee. I’d rather not watch the so-called hero of Baldur’s Gate passing out on my tavern floor.”

“Business is business,” you shrug, sipping at the drink. You reach for your gold pouch, but he shakes his head.

“You know you don’t have to.”

You toss him a gold coin anyway. “I want to.”

As you drink, you gaze blankly at the bard playing at the corner of the room, a crowd of half-drunken patrons surrounding him as they toss gold, hats, and even a shoe at them in applause. This only prompts the bard to sing louder, their fingers plucking at the strings of their lute. Of course, with the nature of the tavern, the song is rather ambitious rather than soothing, but it’s nice to listen to nonetheless. You watch as another bard, this one with a drum, perches next to them and begins playing in unison. The patrons clap louder to the beat.

A man sits next to you, ordering himself a booze before turning to watch the bards. You’ve never seen him around, but he seems comfortable enough, thanking Alan when he receives the drink. He gives it a sniff, then sets it down. “Nice song, no?”

Your eyes never leave the gleeful expressions of those listening, only recognizing moments later that he’s speaking to you. “Yes, pretty nice.”

“My daughter loved this song when she was younger. Even wanted to learn it herself on her flute,” he says, and a part of you wants to ask why he’s initiating conversation, but you bite your tongue. Surely most people come here to drink, not to talk with strangers? There’s a strange familiarity to him that you can’t put your finger on, and it’s enough to keep you intrigued. “She even wanted to be a bard at one point.”

“I’m assuming she didn’t become one?” you indulge him.

“She died before she could, unfortunately.”

You finally look away from the crowd and turn to him, face falling. And while you should console him, your instinct tells you that’s not what he needs. His face is solemn. Dull as if he’s become accustomed to the death of his own child, and it reminds you of the hopelessness of yearning. Any kind, really, whether it be yearning to love and yearning to care. “Was she any good at playing?”

He stifles a laugh. “Oh, she was the best. Could play better than half the bards at the circus a couple of months after I got her that flute.”

You sip at your drink again. “Being a bard isn’t the most stable of career choices when you’re alive and have a stomach to feed. Wherever she is now, I’m sure she’ll be free to sing all the songs she wants in this world.”

Perhaps your words may be insensitive, but he doesn’t look to take it that way, keenly listening to the song while you wager if you can afford one more drink.

“You know,” he says again. “Most people tell me that they’re sorry for my loss—or something along those lines.”

“Do you want me to say that?”

“No, I prefer that you be honest,” he shakes his head. “It’s refreshing.”

You return to watching the bards, who seem nearing their piece's end. The man lifts his booze to his lips and takes a large swig. “You seem acquainted with loss. Have you lost someone recently?”

“To death?”

“Doesn’t have to be.”

You’re not sure why, but you feel that confiding in this stranger comes easier than confiding in your companions. The guilt eats away at you for being unable to trust the people who care for you most, but a stranger cannot judge you. A stranger does not know you, so they cannot see you differently for your thoughts. And most importantly, a stranger cannot pity you. “I almost lost them. But I didn’t.” 

He hums, telling you he’s listening.

“I saved him, I think. Well, to be honest, I’m not so sure anymore. I like to think I did, but I don’t think he thinks the same.”

“Why’s that?”

“I…” you trail off, looking into the half-empty cup reflecting your face. Gods, you’re a mess. “I took something from him to save him.”

“Money?”

“No, nothing like that,” you mumble, swirling your cup mindlessly. “I took his choice away.”

“I see. He must’ve not wanted to be saved, then, is that right?”

You don’t answer him. The air becomes silent again, but the soft tune of the lute, and even the bartender is no longer paying attention to anyone in the tavern, only watching how the bard’s fingers file through the strings. The only person who doesn’t seem distracted is the man beside you.

“Do you regret it?”

“Saving him?” you pause, and maybe it’s the drink getting to your head, or perhaps it’s the way the music seems to fade out, but the words stumble out of your mouth before you can even process them. “I want to regret it.”

From the corner of your vision, you finally notice that his booze is still filled to the top, untouched.

“Does Astarion regret it too?”

Realization dawns on you.

You can see them now—the fangs that peek out from the smile stretching across his lips. And yet, it is not a malicious smile that confuses you even more. It would almost feel genuine if you weren’t in such a vulnerable position, and immediately, you’re thinking of ways to defeat him with just a bottle of wine with your head still spinning. 

The door to the tavern swings open.

Lae’zel almost looks out of breath as she sprints to you, a sight you don’t see every day. “Come! They were ambushed.”

When you turn back to the man sitting at the bar, you only see a gold coin beside a full cup.

You don't have time to delay, as Lae'zel yanks out of the tavern.

You've never run faster in your life. But your mind remains elsewhere, unable to keep up with the speed of your body because it's too busy being stuck in the past. Do you regret it? Does he? Until now, before Astarion’s arrival, you'd been sure it had been the right thing to do to stop the ritual. And now, after hearing all the resentment he harbored toward you as a result, you wonder if it was worth it at all. If losing him was worth the ache you endure now. Before you can snap yourself straight, the memories flood in like a dam breaking open.

“Do you love me?”

“I do. I do love you.”

You don’t expect him to say it back. Not when he looks taken aback at how quickly you’d answered him, his eyes flickering with something you can only describe as a false sense of confidence overwhelmed with a glimmer of fear that means so much more. You know love is hard for someone who hasn’t felt it in 200 years. You know this and, therefore, cannot expect it from him right now.

He cares for you, and that’s enough.

He presses his lips to your temple, and you ignore the restless aching in your chest.

Did he regret being with you then? What did he regret? There's so much you want to know, but nobody willing to answer them.

Shame floods you as you realize you’re distracted, even in such a dire situation for your companion. One more reason to hate him, you suppose—not that you’re keeping count. There’s too much blood drenching your hands, sticky and weighing on you like a pile of bricks as you burst into your shared home in the dead of night, the unconscious body of Shadowheart slumped over your back. Gale rushes to the kitchen immediately for supplies while Lae’zel slams the door shut, shoving her sword against the wall.

“Give her to me,” the githyanki demands as she picks up Shadowheart like a sack of potatoes. The half-elf groans loudly, and you hiss.

“She’s bleeding, Lae’zel, be careful!”

“I’m always careful,” she snaps back and lays your companion across the dining room table. And finally, in the light of a few flickering candles, you can see the damage that’s been done.

A large slash runs through her pelvis to just below her chest, and you can hear Gale swallow the lump in his throat before desperately resuming his rummage through the cabinets for a healing potion. Even if he’s injured too, he doesn’t seem to notice. She’s bleeding—too much for you to handle but enough for you to keep your eyes glued to her pained expression. Even unconscious, the pain seems to seep into her dream as she grunts, gasping for her breath.

It was a mistake. You should have gone in the morning. You should have been with them.

“We used all our healing potions in the battle. We need to make more,” he reaches for the cabinet where he keeps most of his ingredients. However, as he begins grinding them together, he stops and whips around to Lae’zel. “Victims outside the Blushing Mermaid. They might come back for them.”

“For corpses?” you answer for her.

“For their blood, dammit! Their children were there, alive and afraid,” he hisses at the pain of his own injuries. “Please, go check on them in my stead.”

She glares. “Tchk. What a stupid suggestion. In this pathetic state that all of you are in-”

You push her toward the door with all that remains of your strength. “Go. We’ll be fine.”

Her brows furrow, but she scoffs, relenting. “Fine. This is the last time I clean up your messes.”

You know she doesn’t mean it.

Once she leaves, you’re hunched over Shadowheart, dabbling in your less-than-effective means of soothing her. You can only hear Gale, who keeps feeding her healing potions, but it’s not nearly enough if her groans tell you anything. She needs a potion of greater healing at best, and those haven’t been exactly plentiful in supply after most of the city’s potion shops were destroyed in the war against the illithids. Another thing you should have done is stock up on potions. But you’d thought your group had had enough—at least, sufficient for a few more battles.

He rushes into the other room, mumbling about making a potion from scratch.

You clutch at Shadowheart’s hand, praying Gale would hurry up to cease the way she writhes under the candlelight. All you see is the red staining her clothes.

When you think things can’t possibly get worse, you hear the top stair creak under someone’s weight.

You must be cursed by at least one god. You’re sure of it.

He looks nearly starved. Almost as if he hadn’t drunk in days—but surely he hadn’t been this bad just this morning? His face is pale, though it’s always been white as a sheet, and his crimson glare is glued to the blood dripping off the edges of the table like a harpy with their luring songs. You feel your stomach drop as you recall you hadn’t even had the guts to stare at him in the face, and perhaps he had looked this bad. Maybe that’s why he’d approached you in the first place and asked about the Fist—not to spite you in a taunting manner, but simply because he was starving.

Whatever happened to drinking from the ladies at Sharess’ Caress? 

You don’t have time to ask; honestly, you don’t want to know the answer either.

You’re convinced he might have fed off of nothing but the rats he loathes with how sunken his eyes appear from the bags forming beneath them. The overwhelming scent of blood must have lured him out. Even you would have plugged your nose if you weren’t so concerned over your friend's wellbeing, and it’s then that you realize what he’s truly here for.

Almost instinctively, you step in front of Shadowheart, hand going to reach for your dagger. You grasp at nothing but the air.

Shit.

His lips stretch into a dangerous smile. One that is not welcome right now. “Why the hostility, darling?”

“Go back upstairs. I’m warning you.” It’s just you, Gale, and an unconscious Shadowheart in the room at the hands of the hungry vampire, practically ravenous for blood. While you’re sure Gale could handle himself as long as he doesn’t succumb to his injuries, you have nothing in your possession but Shadowheart’s hand and a candle on the table. And on top of this, you’re unsure if you’ll be able to protect Shadowheart in the crossfire if a fight breaks out. 

Your mouth feels dry. You can taste blood in your mouth, but you only realize moments later that it’s your own.

Your mind flashes back to the spawn who nearly killed you mere weeks ago. They’d had the same simmering hunger in their eyes, keen to kill in favor of satiating the endless longing for blood. The same spawn managed to overpower you with such a drastic difference in strength, making you wonder what Astarion himself is capable of. He’s had decades more experience and killing—perhaps he’s even stronger.

No, he’s definitely stronger.

When he had his cold hands wrapped around your neck, it felt as if they belonged to death themselves. And in that moment, you knew that even if you struggled against him, if he genuinely wanted you dead, you would have no power to push him away. You would have no choice but to let the grasp of death pull you into the ground, underneath the surface, into the unknown.

“Oh, poor Shadowheart,” he taunts. “She’s already lost so much blood…”

“And she’s not losing anymore.” You don’t dare to lift your eyes from Astarion. 

The hammering of your chest, the quickening of your breath—they are all things that he does not feel. You wonder if he feels anything at all. You’re sure he’s capable of hatred, he’s capable of reveling in the blood of his enemies, and he’s capable of laughing as he stabs a blade into a man’s eye.

But you wonder if that cold, dead heart of his can feel anything but for himself.

“You look unsettled,” he mocks. “Shall I drink from her? She certainly wouldn’t survive in the state she’s in, though…it would be a bit of a waste, don’t you think?”

You taste blood again from how hard you’re biting your lip.

You’re not sure if it’s just the booze driving insanity to your head or the encounter with a spawn just minutes ago, but the look in his eyes makes your chest tighten. The hunger, the bloodthirst, and the sheer drive to satiate his vampiric needs are enough to make you feel like prey cornered by a starved owlbear. He doesn’t look himself. He seems more like the spawn who’d nearly killed you. And for the first time since you awoke to his fangs bared at your neck during a night at the camp, you see him for what he is.

A vampire spawn—a monster.

This is not your Astarion. In fact, he’d never existed. He’d never loved you, and while you believed his care was enough at the time, you think that might’ve not existed either. This is not the same man who reassured you in your times of need, praised your very being, and gazed at you with nothing but love as you excitedly showed him your new pieces of music. This is not someone who had looked utterly confused when you confessed you wanted more with him because he could not imagine being a priority to someone else. This is not the same man who you once called your lover.

Your lover would not choke you to the brink of death, with nothing but malice urging him on. Perhaps you stopped the ritual from taking his soul, but maybe something else had taken it anyway. And you’re finished making a fool of yourself, hoping he reciprocates a love he cannot give.

When he steps down the stairs, the butter knife that sat on the table seconds before, flies through the air.

Whoever this is, you decide you do you hate him. You’ll force yourself to forget what he was to you if you have to, the same way he did to you. And this time, there is no hesitance or lingering feelings behind your words that represent the weak, naive part of you that can’t help but hold onto memories that no longer matter.

You truly, utterly hate him.

The knife barely flies past his skin, piercing itself into the wall, and it relieves you of the tension that’s weighed on you for the past few months, like plucking a thread from a poorly sewn piece of cloth.

“I won’t miss next time,” you snarl, your words laced with poison and your glare filled with daggers. It's a tone you rarely use on enemies, much less your allies, but all you can think about is your unconscious companion lying behind you.

For once, he looks almost surprised. His eyes are wide, unblinkingly staring at the bloody butter knife that nearly sliced off the tip of his nose before drifting over to you. You heave, your chest rising up and down as you try to catch the breath that doesn’t seem to exist, and he raises both his brows. 

“Threatening me with a butter knife? Really?”

You've never threatened him at all, really. Not even when he first asked you for your blood. But now, even that seems like an afterthought.

“Go,” you spit.

He looks at the blood dripping wastefully on the floor, then at you. His face finally falls, but he wets his lips with his tongue glazing over his fangs, and it boils your blood enough to make you lightheaded. And though the breath you’d been grasping at comes back to you when he turns to disappear back upstairs, his parting words do little to ease the squeamish feeling in your stomach.

“I prefer this spiteful part of you far more, darling.”

You fight the urge to use the candle as a weapon next.

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[vaaaaaiolet]

This summer, you're a swimming instructor. The cute lifeguard that rescued you from drowning in the deep end of the pool last week invites you out for a romp on the beach and you end up getting a little in your head.

Lucky for you, Leon's a dab hand at his job. Especially for you, even if he's off duty.

f / m, fluff, romance, body image issues, banter, tw: eating issues, reader is awkward and body conscious :( but leon is a sweetheart and a TOTAL flirt, slight?? afab nsfw

a/n: title from "my fun" by suki waterhouse! i'm finally reaching the end of my manic writing streak, and since summer's in full swing, you all better know that you look STUNNING no matter what!! your incredible support means the world to me <3

this fic belongs to sketches for my sweetheart the drunk, a collection of bite-sized fics to stretch out my writing muscles :) i hope you enjoy!

word count: 662 // read on ao3

Can’t do it, nope.

You skitter back under the shade of an umbrella blooming on the beach. The water’s beautiful today. Incessant little waves lap at your feet, coaxing you into the turquoise coast. 

The sinking feeling in your stomach outweighs any of its appeal.

He spots you on his way back from his truck. You’re swaddled in a towel big enough for the both of you, buried in a book that you find super interesting (once you turn it right side up), and just as you get into the nitty gritty of how to win friends and influence people, your reading gets swiped up from right under your nose. “Hey!” 

Leon blinks innocently, twisting his wrist to read the cover, “You’re into this kinda stuff?”

“It’s how I’m so winning,” you cross your arms over your stomach, whatareyousaying?, “and influential. To people.”

“To people.” He repeats.

“Uh huh.”

Way to go. If the cute lifeguard didn’t think you were weird for asking if he knew how to swim, he’s definitely going to think you’re weird now. What kind of swimming instructor doesn’t swim at the beach?

And as you think you’ve screwed it all up with the only cute guy who’s asked you out all summer, Leon just chuckles, hunkering down on the sand next to you. “You’re influential, I’ll give you that. Maybe I’ll put my swimming off until later too.”

So Leon saves you again, like he did at the deep end of the pool last week.

“Toss me something from the cooler?” he asks.

He shucks off his shirt, revealing a set of well-earned abs. Jesus, they ripple, they’re waves. You’d happily take a surfboard to his six-pack. 

Sadly, you settle for handing him a Coke instead.  

“Is something the matter?” he asks after a bit. Leon almost sounds shy, his cheeks a sunkissed pink to match as he sips.

You shake your head no as winningly as possible.

“Are you sick? Cramping?” Oh, he’s a sweetheart, “‘Cause we can go anywhere you want. I just thought since you teach swimming…” His fingers inch towards your towel-covered thigh. 

“Seriously,” you laugh, “it’s not a big deal, you go swim.”

“Really? Cause I’m thinking the pretty girl I finally convinced to go to the beach with me is going to run the other way the minute I turn my back.”

Your face sears with heat as you open your mouth and nothing comes out. 

“Kidding, I swear. Wanna make sure you’re okay.”

You wrap the towel a little tighter around your stomach, and Leon’s brow pinches. “What’s that all about?”

“Just not feeling like I look my best,” you admit, glancing over to the picnic basket you brought along, “It’s just for today, I don’t like how I look and maybe I should go easier on the food-” 

“Absolutely not.” 

The sharp pitch of his voice snaps your eyes back up as he plucks a nectarine out of the basket and slips it into your hand. He won’t take no for an answer – did he see how shaky your legs were at the pool this morning? 

“You spent all day chasing your swimming class around; you need energy to kick my ass at Chicken like you promised, remember?”

“Come on, it’s not that serious. I just missed breakfast.” You’re mumbling now, sounding not at all influential or winning, “I had enough energy for today’s lesson anyway.”

“You’ll lose your boobs.” Leon shrugs, sinking his teeth into another nectarine before you smack him on the shoulder. A scandalized gasp tears out your throat as he laughs.

“That’s a stretch!”

“I don’t make the rules. Eat. Land or water, you’re gorgeous both ways.”

And there he was again, doing what he does best. The sinking feeling lifts with each bite you take of the fruit, and just maybe, you might not have messed this all up.

“Attagirl.”

You meet Leon’s grin with an idiotic one of your own. “Charmer.”

“Pretty girl.”

fun fact: i once got flirted with like leon does to reader at the end but that guy did it much worse and it was a total ick 💀 lowkey i might not keep this up either AHGHG

click for my full drabble collection, and find more of my work here!

comments and reblogs are very much appreciated <3 take care!

[gloomwitchwrites]

Congrats on 1k. You deserve it so much!! Could you please do Price with PDA?

Oh my goodness. Thank you so much, anon! I really appreciate it!! Can you have Captain John Price with PDA? Absolutely you can. Gosh I adore him. Anyway! Enjoy!

Written with gn!reader in mind.

Content & Warnings: fluff, minor suggestive themes

Word Count: 331

A/N: Thank you to everyone who has submitted requests for the 1k follower event. This event is currently closed and I am no longer taking requests. Thank you!

ao3 // taglist // main masterlist // 1k follower event masterlist

John who is formidable in the field. Who takes charge. Who doesn’t stand down even when the task seems impossible.

John who keeps a picture of you somewhere on him at all times.

John who keeps still on the way back from a completed mission, but internally he’s a nervous mess.

John who only wants to be back in your arms as quickly as possible.

John who knows how to leave work at the door when he comes home.

John who transforms entirely when he returns home.

John who immediately goes in for a kiss. It’s always soft at first, and then he deepens things until your fingers are digging into his uniform, pulling him closer.

John who loves being seen with you.

John who never stops touching you in public. He doesn’t care if others see it. He’s back home with you, and that is all that matters to him.

John who likes to have his arm draped over your shoulders out in public because he can tuck you against him easier. It’s also more convenient when he wants a kiss.

John who always has an arm around your waist when the two of you are at rest somewhere like standing in line.

John who has to sit beside you whenever the two of you are out anywhere. There is no sitting across the table if he can help it.

John who likes to have a constant hand on your thigh.

John who isn’t afraid to ask for kisses in front of others.

John who doesn’t mind when you playful go to grab his hand and he draws away with a tease on his on his tongue. He makes you work for it.

John who knows you belong to him and wants to make sure others know.

John who won’t kiss you roughly in public but won’t hesitate to whisper how he’ll kiss you once the two of you are alone.

John who is proud to be seen with you.

taglist:

@km-ffluv @glitterypirateduck @tiredmetalenthusiast @spicyspicyliving @miaraei

@coffeecaketornado @aykxz98 @kayden666 @unhinged-reader-36 @miss-mistinguett

@keiva1000 @cherryofdeath @sapphichotmess @enfppuff @kittytiddywinks

@berarenado @saoirse06 @haven-1307 @ninman82 @no-oneelsebutnsu

@marispunk @thewulf @lxblm @ferns-fics @ooldcardigan

@beebeechaos @enarien @sw33tsnow @kessi-21 @makayla-666

@lifes-project @burn1ngw00d @heeheehoohoohahahihi @lulurubberduckie @ravenpoe67

@contractedcriteria @lovely-ateez @gingergirl06 @kidd3ath @leed-bbg

@nelladowney @blackhawkfanatic @suhmie @tulipsun-flower @ghosts-hoe

@jaggersinclair @nomercyforthewarrior @dakotakazansky @talooolaaloolla @hantheconqueror

@littlemisscriesherselftosleep @umno-yeah

[korereapers]

I collaborated with the amazing @laxi0v0 for a cute little event we made in the scriddler server. This is Laxi's art about the fic I wrote, and HONESTLY HONESTLY i couldn't have asked for a better and more supportive partner. Her art is way better than I would ever dream on writing and honestly, Laxi, I'm so glad it was you bc we vibe a lot about our tastes w this ship.

The fic will be on ao3 later, but here, for you guys, before anyone else:

Jonathan takes a sip out his mug, nicely decorated with a pumpkin, the recipe of the pumpkin spice coffee perfected by him for decades. It’s warm, it tastes like fall, and it’s the start of what Jonathan considers to be the best time of the year.

It started like a small tradition for him, when he finally left home and started studying to become the psychologist he wanted to be. Halloween was to be celebrated, especially for freaks like him, abhorrent creatures that made great-granny’s skin crawl. He was proud of that, in a way. It was his moment, it still is, after all of these years, because he is still a freak, he belongs to this weather and these colors more than he belongs anywhere else. He belongs between ocher leaves and the smell of fog, the rain starting to fall over Gotham, only to leave when it’s summer again. The start of his kingdom, of the time he rules over.

Or it would be, if Edward wasn’t so adamant about going to freaking Starbucks.

He doesn’t get it, not really. A malnourished child from Georgia, surrounded by overworked kids that serve them with the most forced smile when Edward asks, yet again, for the infamous Pumpkin Spice Latte. With ice. Oatmeal milk. Whipped cream.

Jonathan wants to die.

“How is this even supposed to be spooky?”

Edward rolls his eyes, green contact lenses barely moving, as if they were starting to get glued to his irises. Which should be a bad sign, but Jonathan is, yet again, not his boyfriend’s keeper.

“Not everything has to be spooky when this time arrives, Jonathan.”

He kind of dislikes it, when he calls him by his full name. He calls him Jon when they are alone, when they are intimate, when their bodies or their hearts are entwined. He doesn’t like when he calls him Jonathan, because that means that Edward thinks he is being too bitter, complaining too much, a complete prick.

It’s not that he dislikes the stupid PSL, either, but it feels like desecrating one of his oldest traditions, and he feels as if he were betraying himself.

“Don’t you like my recipe, then? Do you dislike it so much we have to come here every single week?”

The cashier smiles at them awkwardly as Edward pays for their order, tipping the young lady generously.

“Do you have to take everything personally? I started getting here when I finally had my own money to spend. Is it that hard to just enjoy it, when I want to share it with you?”

Oh. A tradition. Jonathan distractedly drinks from his thematic glass, but says nothing.

They are really different, Edward and himself. To Edward, spending time and money like this… is almost a love language. It’s a lifestyle that he works hard to keep, having dinner in expensive places, getting coffee every time he can. Sharing it with him, because Jonathan is important to him.

Jonathan may be unable to feel fear, and his brain may be as damaged as Edward’s heart, but guilt still crawls its way into his psyche. It still makes him feel uneasy, because he cares, because he understands the feeling, because he wants to share his recipe with Edward because of the exact same reason.

He touches Edward’s hand when they sit, an apology he doesn’t utter but that can be felt in his irradiated orange eyes.

“I like it when you share time and nourishment with me.”

Edward’s expression softens, a glint of blue under the bright green contact lenses.

“Wow, when did you get emotionally aware?” his mouth says instead, and for a moment, Jonathan understands the Bat and his compulsion to punch him in the mouth.

“I’m a psychologist, Edward.”

“... right,” he mutters, his voice cheeky, still clearly a little mad, his thoughts loud. Jonathan loves that about him, his expression when he is deep in thought, when he is trying to understand something. A puzzle, a new riddle in their lives. “That recipe of yours is really important to you, too, if I’m guessing correctly.”

Jonathan nods, his eyes still on Edward’s, who seems to be feeling a little bit too shy to look at him, knowing that they are having an emotionally vulnerable moment.

“It is. I made it myself and… I want to share it with you.”

Edward does smile a little at that, his voice softer when he speaks.

“Let me try it later. I want to give it the thought and recognition it deserves.”

Jonathan’s thumb caresses Edward’s hand, his smile contagious. Like a well concocted virus.

“I would love to.”

—-------------------------------------------

Edward is pretty sure that he is (very unluckily, by the way) dating the man with the poorest taste in the world. Jonathan seems to think that he is hilarious, dressed in his usual costume, even the needles oozing toxin as he sits quietly on the couch.

There is a thing about him that Edward has always loved: how he becomes a different person when the mask is on.

They used to talk about it, back in the day, when they used to share a room in the Asylum. Jonathan felt naked without his mask, his expression dull and almost tense, devoid of what made him himself. Edward, at least, has managed to make those expressions change, the real Jon emerging from behind whatever aloof façade he tries to put on to protect himself, to pretend he is a regular human being and not the freak that makes his heart melt.

He must surely be smiling behind the mask, then. Edward can almost feel him vibrating in excitement, like a small child, and in a way, he kind of is. A reclaimed childhood, the enjoyment of a joy he wasn’t allowed to feel. He can understand that.

Still, the poorest fucking choice of a Halloween costume.

“Really, Jon? The most original idea, I have to say.”

Jonathan looks at him, and he can feel his piercing eyes even behind the mask, the expression of a predator, so dangerous it makes his face flush a little. Birds of a feather, both of them. The Scarecrow sighs, deeply, the sound distorted behind the mask. It’s creepy, he has to admit, which is probably… kind of the point.

“Like you’re one to talk, Herlock Sholmes.”

Edward gasps, indignant. His Poirot costume is nothing to be laughed at.

“Excuse me?!”

He can almost feel the smile behind the mask, because Edward knows him, he knows Jonathan is an avid reader, he knows the difference between Agatha Christie and Arthur Conan Doyle, for fuck's sake. He is doing this on purpose, to rile him up. He always is.

Edward's mind goes somewhere else, somewhere private. Somewhere where he is indeed riled up, and Jonathan touches his cheek, looking up at his face from behind the mask, Edward sitting on his lap, while long, dangerous hands go up his thigh, eyes hungry-

The doorbell rings. Edward goes back to reality, Jonathan's eyes on him as he moves towards the entrance, the tips of his ears surely blushing.

When he opens the door, he has to look down, because damn, kids sure look tinier these days. He cannot remember to be this short, this innocent, this…

Happy.

He feels Jonathan's chin on his shoulder, almost jumping in place because the man is silent like a ghost, no matter how eager he is to take part in the holiday.

One of the kids is wearing a Batman costume, and Edward tries his hardest not to roll his eyes, with better or worse success. Another kid is dressed as Harley Quinn, what makes him wonder if these parents are in need of any kind of psychological help. The youngest, a child dressed as Wonder Woman, looks at them with badly hidden mischief, and Edward feels tempted to just close the door.

"Trick or treat!" They ask in unison, and before Edward can answer, Jonathan drops a bag in front of them, full of who knows what, but the kids don't ask.

Such blissful ignorance.

"Thank you Mister Holmes! Mister Scarecrow!" The girl dressed up as Batman says, and the one dressed as Wonder Woman purses her lips in disgust.

"Poirot's moustache isn't like that. You're a fake."

The kid dressed as Harley Quinn laughs in response, taking the bag of candy and running away with Wonder Woman. The one dressed as Batman follows who Edward believes to be her sisters, and he blissfully thanks that they don't have any children.

"Please tell me the bag is full of drugs."

Jonathan chuckles a little, his arms around Edward's waist.

"Hershey's," is everything he says, his sudden lack of malice and evil intent a headache for Edward.

"Oh, Jon. Are you going soft on me?"

Jonathan's smile can be felt in the air, a predator, a killer awaiting their next victim.

"Me? Oh, darlin'..." he whispers against Edward's ear, his distorted voice making him shudder in anticipation. "Never."

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Mad Season 5

Warnings: non/dubcon, social anxiety, chronic illness, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Character: Bucky Barnes, Peter Parker

Summary: a class project gets messy. (short!reader)

Note: happy weekend.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging ❤️

The scalloped collar of your cardigan sticks out like a sore thumb among the tube tops and spaghetti straps. You don’t know how anyone can stand to wear skirts that short with winter looming around the next corner. Even as the dorm is filled with the heat of bodies, an open window lets in a frigid gust that has you shivering. 

It might help if you detach yourself from the wall. That would mean wading into the bodies and god forbid, talking to strangers. You cross your arms and sway as you search the crowded kitchen. There’s more in the front room and the bedrooms. The place is filled to the brim with tipsy co-eds. 

You stand on your toes as you try to spot your host. You haven’t seen Peter since you got there. He disappeared to help with a spill and just never came back. You figured that’s how it would go. You’re boring and it is his party. He can’t just be hanging out with you all night. 

As the voices grow to a furor and your head begins to spin with the wall of bodies, your chest tightens. You sidle along the wall, ducking and dodging away from drunken guests, and find your way to the door. You let yourself into the hall as you shake up your puffer. 

You take a deep inhale and let it out slow. It’s already better. The music and buzz of chatter courses through the wall but it isn’t deafening. You’ll stay out there for a while then find Peter and tell him you’re too tired. 

You pull out your phone to distract yourself. You could try texting. No, he deserves a real goodbye. He invited your after all. 

The door opens again and a couple bursts out, leaving it open in their stead as they hit the wall not a foot away from you. They don’t notice you as they tangle each other up in a sloppy make out sessions. You make a face at them and quickly flit away. You have no other choice but to go back to the party. 

As you weave around the other guests, your mind detaches and wanders back to that dark night on campus. You didn’t really believe Bucky at first but then again, how well do you know Peter? It’s completely likely that he’s brought other girls around. But would it matter? 

Like you told Bucky, you’re just doing a project. 

You hit the wall suddenly as someone collides with you from the side. You let out and oomf and grip your phone tighter. You turn as a splash of cold liquid leaks down your sleeve. The drunken girl doesn’t even apologise as she laughs and follows her friend down to the kitchen. 

You shrink down even further. It’s overcrowded and too loud and too much. Not only that but you plainly don’t belong here. You live in an off-campus property with a shady landlord and questionable roommates; this place is a premium all-inclusive dorm. The type legacies and trust funders live in. 

You manage to squeeze past a group of boys in varsity jackets arguing loudly. You dip into Peter’s room and take a breath. It’s not as bad as the rest of the house but there’s some girls on the bed giggling and talking about things that make you want to blush. 

You search around. Not necessarily for an escape, you’re not desperate enough to hop out the window, but just for anywhere to hide and catch your breath. Literally. You switch your phone for your puffer and put it to your lips. 

You cross to the bathroom and knock. You turn your ear to it and listen for an answer. Nothing. You turn the handle and push inside. 

You stop short. Inside, Peter’s against the wall of the shower, pinned by MJ as she nibbles on his lower lip. You gasp in surprise and gape. Oh gosh. 

You stand dumbly in the door. Move, you idiot. Before you can flee, Peter’s eyes open and he sees you. He winces and grabs MJ’s shoulders, moving her away from him. 

“Hey,” he tries to move past her but she tugs him back. 

You back out, cheeks burning, and spin away without closing the door. It’s not like it’s any of your business, you shouldn’t care, but it’s awkward. You shouldn’t have seen that.  

It’s just like you suspected. You’re crashing Peter’s party. He didn’t actually want to invite you, he was just being nice. Like always. He’s always so nice and patient and you’re so pathetic. 

Maybe Bucky is right. Maybe you’re just another girl. Well, so what? You’re just friends. Just lab partners. You don’t care, do you? 

You barely avoid the elbow of one of the frats slurping on a red cup and another group of girls blindly force their way by without making room. You press against the wall as you try to get free of the bustling space.  

God, why did you even come? You knew this was a bad idea. This is the last time you do anything just to be polite. What good has that ever got you? 

You finally get to the door and stumble out into the hall. You catch yourself against the wall and look over at the couple still grossly sucking down each other’s tongues. You grimace and shake your puffer. You suck on it as you head down the hallway. 

“Hey, wait,” Peter calls your name as the door once more lets out the cacophony of voice, “look, what you saw--” 

“It’s fine, Peter,” you rasp, “really. Parties aren’t really my thing.” 

“No, it’s not fine. I don’t want you to think I just ditched you. It’s just MJ, she was all over me. Really, I was trying to get away--” 

“Peter,” you gulp, “we’re just friends,” you turn to face him and he nearly trips as he skids to a halt. “I don’t care.” 

You smile, or try to. You might be lying. You’re not really sure yourself. 

“You... don’t?” He frowns. 

You stare at him. “Well, should I?” You laugh nervously. 

He deflates and his brows furrow, “I mean... I do. I really care about you and... I was telling MJ and she just jumped on me. She has this thing for taken guys. Kinda why we didn’t work out. But uh, I guess I messed it all up. I invited you because I... well, yeah, I guess it doesn’t matter now.” His shoulders slump and his eyes glisten, “so, just go. I messed it all up. Not like you could ever like me back, right?” 

You stare at him. You open your mouth then shut it. Like him? Like really like him? If that’s what he means... do you? 

💜💜💜

From this point, there will be two paths; both Bucky and Peter will appear in both but each will favour one or the other as end goal. 

[nariism]

i loved you on a moonlit summer night

pair. diluc ragnvindr x gn!reader

content: tooth-rotting fluff, love at first sight, allusions to reincarnation but no actual instances of reincarnation

synopsis. diluc knows that he doesn't belong in mondstadt anymore. he doesn't belong anywhere— no place to truly call home and nothing in this world but vengeance in his heart. but on a wintery day on dragonspine, he finds his salvation: a box of cecelias, a fire seelie, and the owner of the best flower shop in the city.

wc. 8.4k

a/n: thank you to my beautiful @hyomagiri for beta reading, helping edit and hyping this fic up to the max. i ended up feeling confident enough to post this because of her, three cheers for ellie i love you to the moon and back <3

WINTER

It wasn’t his fault. How was he supposed to know that buried beneath blankets of snow and sheets of ice, there would be Cecelias?

Fire seelies are usually reliable with a bounty of treasure waiting at the end of their path. He isn't sure why it led him here, to some inconspicuous pile of snow which he hastily melted without realizing there was something precious hidden within.

The mistake doesn’t register with Diluc until the sweet scent of flowers and ash and burning wood wafts under his nose. He blinks in confusion at the pile, perfectly burnt to a crisp and resting at the tip of his boots.

Boxed up flowers? What are they doing out in the middle of the mountain?

He remembers then, a story someone once told him— he can't put a name to the voice but it echoes in the hollow chambers of his heart:

"Did you know that you can preserve the freshness of flowers? All you have to do is box them up nice and tight and store them in the snow."

It's an interesting tidbit of information. He can't for the life of him remember where he heard it from, though.

Wind howls in his ears, powdery snow from over the horizon plowing down the mountainside and into his face. It doesn't deter him from examining the scene. The fire seelie floats just above his shoulder, quiet now as it looks at the pile.

He’s entirely distracted by the sight, unsure of what to make of the strange discovery, until he hears the crunch of snow behind him. With the Fatui lingering around the foot of the mountain, he expects to whip around and face an enemy. He even braces himself to be knocked off his feet by a wild boar.

Instead, his sudden movement frightens you and makes you stumble back until you fall flat onto the ground.

There’s a long pause of silence that stuffs the air, neither you nor him tearing your eyes away from each other. You freeze like a deer caught in headlights, so still that it looks like you've succumbed to the frozen climate of the mountain. He breathes a slow sigh of relief when a wavering exhale leaves your lips in the form of a puff of cloudy air.

The heart resting in his chest stirs. An ancient dull ache, thrumming in the depths of his body as he looks at you in surprise.

Again, there's a voice in his ear. This time, he recognizes it as his father:

"Your mother? I fell in love at first sight."

Growing up, he never quite understood that string of words. First sight? How could someone fall in love at first sight?

Diluc Ragnvindr is a million things, but romantic is not one of them. Love at first sight is a silly fairytale that parents tell their children to tuck them into bed. It's something that could never exist in such a cruel world, plagued by monsters and evil.

It's easy for him to close his heart off to the idea of something as ridiculous as love at first sight, despite the way his eyes haven't left yours. And he's painfully aware of the way you're looking at him too, but he does his best to ignore your gawking.

Maybe he's catching a cold. He doesn't feel well all of the sudden.

Your gaze drifts to the pile of ash just behind him and you sigh, putting your head into your hands wet from snow.

"You found my seelie," you murmur, sounding very unimpressed. He blinks at you until you continue, "Those were important, you know. They were for a very special occasion."

Diluc takes in your form, clothes thin and unfit for the snowy conditions of Dragonspine. Even without the chilly altitude of the mountain, this winter in general was particularly bitter. He almost wants to scold you for dressing so thoughtlessly, even though he doesn't know your name.

"My apologies. I will reimburse you whatever the cost, and more."

"It's... not about that," you tell him from your place on the ground, still not looking at him. You seem stressed. His heart squeezes terribly.

"Not about what?"

"Mora."

He falls silent, so quiet that you finally peer up at him wondering whether or not he's even still standing there. And he is, regarding you with a thoughtful expression. His presence is so unnoticeable despite being right in front of you that it makes your skin crawl.

"How can I make it up to you?" He asks, extending his hand for you to take. Your clothes are soaked through already, cold and frozen from the subzero temperature. It doesn't help soothe his worries that he can feel a storm coming. He should get you out of here as soon as possible.

You huff, allowing him to drag you to your feet. It's then that you realize how warm he is, almost hot to the touch. The faint glimmer of a Vision dangles on his hip. Your eyes flicker back to his and he nearly jolts out of his skin.

"Don't worry about it. It's alright," you tell him though you sound disingenuous about it. You're obviously distracted, probably wondering how to explain to your client that their expensive flowers ended up as a pile of ash.

"It was my mistake. Please, let me know if there's anything at all I can do," he replies earnestly.

"Really, it's fine," you sound slightly exasperated by his stubbornness. If it were anyone ordinary, they would have taken your mercy and left you to freeze on the mountain without a second thought.

Diluc Ragnvindr is no ordinary man.

It takes him a moment to realize his hand is still gripping yours rather tightly. He recoils with an awkward cough.

“What are you doing out here in the mountains?” He asks. It dawns on him then what a stupid question it is, since you’ve obviously come to collect your frozen flowers. You tell him anyways:

"I buried some flowers further up the mountain a few days ago," you sigh, "not sure if I can find them anymore, though. That's why I've been following this little one around."

You scratch under the seelie's chin. Well, where you would imagine its chin to be, at least. It seems thrilled by the affection.

"It's going to storm soon. You should head back down the mountain and try again later."

"It's urgent," you insist, ready to brush past him and continue the trek up.

He stops you with your wrist in his hand. "Then please, let me accompany you to the top of the mountain. It isn't safe with the Fatui lingering around. It's the least I could do."

You eye him hesitantly, but then your shoulders relax and you sigh again. "Okay, okay. We should hurry and get out of here, then."

He wordlessly follows you up the trail, watching your movements carefully. While you don't seem suspicious, he can never be too sure when it comes to the Fatui. Save for the rustling of pine trees and the soft crunch of snow beneath your boots, empty silence fills the air.

It drives him crazy. So crazy that he decides to speak.

"What's your name?"

The name that leaves your lips makes him smile. He can only think that it really does suit you. 

"My name is–"

"Diluc. Diluc Ragnvindr, right?"

Heat creeps up to his cheeks. Of course you know who he is. He's the most famous person in all of Mondstadt, for Archon's sake.

"I've seen you around the city," you quickly explain, awkwardly fumbling over your words. "And at festivals and such."

Before he can dwell too much on it, your seelie chirps— once, twice, three times as it dives into the snow and slowly melts it away. You suddenly halt in your steps, crouching down to sift through the remainder. An exhale of relief leaves you when you dig out a box, intact and frozen to the touch.

He looks on in curiosity. Your hand brushes the snow off the top of the box and you open it, revealing another couple dozen Cecelias.

"Thank goodness..." and your seelie seems to agree, because it dances around your head with a pleased noise.

You're too busy admiring the flowers to realize the snow has kicked up. He's too busy admiring you to notice, either. It isn't until the seelie dips in front of your face with a panicked garble that you finally tear your eyes away from your box of flowers.

"It started to snow..."

Diluc's gaze drifts from you to the darkening sky. It's much too late to make your way down the mountain. In his time in Snezhnaya he learned one very important rule of surviving the cold: you can't outrun snow.

Your seelie leads you to a small cave in a section of rock, covered in starsilver and crystalflies. There isn't any kindling to make a fire, and he isn't willing to brave this type of storm just for some wood.

Diluc shrugs his coat off his shoulders and wraps it around your shoulders in a single motion. Heat envelops you, warmer than the fire seelie that guided you through the mountains. It’s a warmth that fills you from the pit of your stomach all the way to the tips of your fingers.

The seelie floats between you, trying to do its best to keep the both of you in its light.

It's comfortable and quiet for a while— not a peep from either of you as you listen to the howling of wind and snow outside. 

How did Diluc ever end up here?

Bad luck, karma, anything that would explain why he ended up snowed in atop Dragonspine with you— anything at all other than it was in the stars' design that he be with you right here and now. Fate mocks him.

Even worse, there's a voice in his head telling him that this is exactly where he needs to be right now. He's getting a migraine.

Diluc watches you sift through the remaining ashes of the burnt box, trying to see if there's anything you can salvage. Unfortunately, Diluc's Pyro vision was only good for combat and keeping you warm at this moment.

"I'm... really sorry," he says again, looking away sheepishly. He can't bear to look at the disappointment furrowing in your brows.

The sound of a sigh echoes in the cave, and he finally manages to look at you. To his surprise, you're only staring back at him with soft eyes: no contempt, no anger, no disappointment. It makes his heart sink, not only with guilt, but also because there's just something so sweet about you that it makes him want to hold you closer.

"It's okay. At least a majority of them survived. It'll be plenty."

"If you don't mind me asking, what were they for?"

"A bouquet for a wedding. The bride specifically asked for Cecelias, since it was the first bouquet he ever gifted her," there's a fondness on your face that makes him snort. You look at him funny. "What? It's romantic."

"They're just flowers. What's so sentimental about that?"

"They're not just flowers," you frown, scooting a little closer into his side to soak up more of his heat. The fire seelie's light flickers against your face. "Cecelias only grow in extremely windy places. They're illustrious and elegant, even after growing in such harsh conditions. Isn't that just..." you smile at him, slow and warm. "It's beautiful."

Diluc considers your explanation for a moment, tugging his coat around your shoulders tighter. "I suppose so."

"You suppose?" You laugh. "My my, I didn't know Diluc Ragnvindr was so down-to-earth when it comes to romance."

Your laugh is doing terrible things to him. There's something about it that reminds him of the days he spent wandering the Winery as a boy with Kaeya in tow. The nights he would spend catching crystalflies. Times long since passed. He suddenly aches to be back among the grapevines.

"I don't indulge in that sort of thing."

He never could, so long as there was something ugly and bitter and tainted in his heart.

"You've never fallen in love?"

"Not once."

Love like that doesn't exist. Not in a world like this.

He repeats what he believed was true, chants the mantra in his head until he's dizzy as if trying to convince himself that he isn't already lost in you. The warm orange glow of the seelie dances in your eyes, lights up your smile in a way that makes his stomach turn.

I fell in love at first sight. They were words that he couldn't understand until today.

"Is that so?" You muse, slotting your head in the space between his jaw and shoulder. He doesn’t move away. "You're an unusual man, Diluc."

"Maybe I am."

But he knows that the moment he met you, everything was about to change. You don't even dignify him with a glance as you say it:

"Let's fall in love, then."

The demand is simple and he's absolutely positive you're joking. Something in his soul tugs anyway. He swears one thing at that moment: someway, somehow, he'll make it all up to you.

You are, after all, the first person to remind him of home in a long time. Every aspect of you is so comforting and familiar, even if he can't quite place his finger on it yet.

You reach out to pet your seelie, even though you know your hand will phase through it. "You sure did lead me to some strange treasure, hm?"

It trills happily with a little twirl.

Diluc meets you in winter, in the valley between the peaks of Dragonspine. He meets you, and it smells of burnt wood and ash and Cecelias. It's so cold that you can't feel your fingers but you're smiling in the afterglow of a seelie nonetheless, and so is he.

SPRING

He learns that you own the little flower shop at the edge of Mondstadt, just within the front gates of the city.

You're teaching a young girl, Flora, how to nurture them. And he finds it a little endearing, the way you're so gentle not only with Flora but with the flowers you're showing her: daisies and tulips and Windwheel Asters, all of which are in season right now.

Diluc recognizes you when you open back up for spring, surrounded by boxes stuffed with fresh bouquets. You seem to be in a rush getting organized, holding a stack of boxes instead of taking them one by one and clumsily scattering them around so you can go through them.

He stops you by stepping in front of you, two hands on either side of the stack to steady them as you stumble to a halt.

"Diluc?" You peer from around the boxes. He can only see your curious eyes from this angle. He laughs.

"Sorry to interrupt you when you're so busy. Do you need help?"

"Well–" you do a little hop to straighten up the boxes in your arms, "–it would be nice to have an extra set of hands getting everything ready for the Windblume Festival." You contemplate his offer for a brief moment, then ultimately decide against it. "But I would hate to steal you away from your other responsibilities. You're helping with the festival too, right?"

"I owe you one. Think of this as a favour from a friend," he refutes stubbornly.

"I'm sure many would be missing the help of Diluc Ragnvindr," you tease, shifting around so that your body tilts toward him.

It's then that he can finally look at you fully, with a soft orange apron tied around your waist and Windwheel Asters in your hair to match.

One day, you would go on and explain to him that it was sort of like advertising, and that showing off how nice the blooms look as an accessory brought in a lot of business. Right now all it does is render him breathless.

"They can afford to miss me.” He can't help the smile that creeps its way onto his face at the sight of you— he feels silly about it too, like some lovesick little boy.

You hand off the boxes into Diluc's arms. "Can they? I heard you were supplying all of the wine for the festival. That's a tall order," you giggle, bending down to grab another two boxes of flowers.

"It's... manageable," he answers, making a mental note to himself to buy Adelinde dinner some time as a thank you. "What about you? What are all these boxes for?"

"We're holding a flower gifting service in the plaza, on the night of the big party." He looks at you curiously as you continue, "You can send someone you care for a flower or two, or you can send them anonymously if you just wanted to make someone's day!"

"Sounds..."

You smile knowingly. "Romantic?"

Diluc places the boxes down on the ground and pries the lids off, revealing more and more ready-to-bloom flowers. "Yeah. Romantic," he sighs.

"These will all be in full bloom in time for the festival.” You lean down behind him where he's crouched down, until your chin is nearly resting on his shoulder. He's sure his breath hitches so loud that you can hear it.

The following weeks entail complete mayhem. With the end of spring rapidly approaching, excitement buzzes throughout the city. Notably, he overhears many talking about your business and the new flower gifting service.

The Windblume Festival is a special time for Diluc. His father used to take him and Kaeya as children, back when the world was a little happier. On the night of the festival, he stands at the booth contemplating. Unlike a majority of the citizens of Mondstadt, he has not a clue who to give a flower to. Flora frowns.

"Um, mister, are you ever going to write a name down?"

The quill halts just above the piece of paper. "I don't have to sign my name, do I?"

"You can send it as a secret."

Diluc looks up from where he's bent over, observing you from a few feet away. You're conversing with some ladies who are interested in your bouquets. It was a good business idea to do something like this.

He only meant to support your idea as a friend. Now he's conflicted on whether or not he should dare to write your name.

You look absolutely radiant tonight with magical crystal chunks strewn about your hair and a crown of flowers circling your head. He isn't sure he's ever seen someone so beautiful.

He finally decides. When you turn back around to give him your attention, he's gone.

He's sure that will be the end of it, and that after tonight your brief and strange relationship with him will come to an end. But then you come bounding up to him just as he's about to head out.

"Look! A flower!" You exclaim, shoving it into his face. He's pleased that you like the one he picked out for you.

"Yes, I see that. It's nice."

"Nice? Nice?! It's adorable! I've never gotten one before."

He looks at you funny. "Never?"

"Nope," you laugh sheepishly. "I don't really get out much. Too busy running the shop."

He takes the flower from your hands and tucks it just behind your ear, adding it amongst the crown of Asters surrounding you like a halo.

"It suits you.”

"Does it?" You ask him quietly.

His heart beats furiously. How could he ever steel himself when you have such a big smile on your face, adorned with flowers and gemstones?

"Will you dance with me?" The question leaves him before he can stop it. You look at him in wonder, with his fingers brushing the hair from your face. Whatever evil overtakes him in that moment, he'll have to thank later, because without hesitation you're dragging him into the middle of the plaza with glee.

You come to learn that he isn't exactly what you'd call an elegant dancer. He only knows movements that he learned at banquets held by his family— basic steps born from obligation. 

"I thought you'd be better at this," you tease, allowing him to pull you along by the waist.

"I don't dance," he huffs. "I haven't in a long time."

"We should dance together more, then."

Diluc sighs, but there's a tiny smile spreading across his face. "I guess we should."

"This flower... do you know what it represents?" You gesture to the bloom tucked behind your ear. He shakes his head and you continue, "It means everlasting love."

He laughs at the irony.

"I see. How... fetching."

"I wonder who it was," you smile to yourself. He thinks you look breathtaking.

Diluc's lips curl at your joy. He twirls you under his arm once, twice, then pulls you back into his body as he considers your words.

"Yes, I wonder who," he mutters with an amused expression that you just barely miss. And he knows exactly who, but he's not sure if he could handle seeing you melt into a lovestruck puddle at his admission.

Diluc dances with you in spring, under the warm glow of lanterns and the taste of grape juice staining his tongue. He dances with you, and it smells of the Windwheel Asters that crown your head and mint jelly on your breath.

He tugs you a little closer, just because.

SUMMER

If you were to ask Diluc how he felt about these big "charity" events, he would scoff in your face and lecture you about how they were nothing more than money traps set up by the Knights of Favonius.

He would say it purely out of spite, of course, mostly because he knows Jean is too kindhearted to allow for such shady business. Openly, at least.

His distaste for the Knights and all they stand for are not hidden deep in his heart. He sneers when there's a casualty— mocks their inefficiency at any given opportunity.

You never knew him to be such a bitter man when it came to the Knights. Diluc was good at keeping up his polite and indifferent charade to their practices.

It wasn't until the beginning of summer when you realized his loathing. It was their own incompetence that led a horde of slimes directly into the city, nearly smashing your little shop to bits.

You've never seen him so furious.

Outwardly, he was simply curt with them. He had only a few choice words lined up when they apologized with their heads hung low, watching them with his arms crossed over his chest.

Inwardly, you could see the anger swimming in his eyes.

That was three weeks ago. It leaves a bitter taste in his mouth to think that just three weeks ago, they were leading danger straight into your shop and now here they are, asking you to donate to their cause.

"You're sulking," you tell him from across the table. He immediately sits up straight, jaw relaxing.

"I have no idea what you're talking about."

"You know," you smile at him, moving one of your pawns forward, "I think the Knights are happy you're here. Relieved, at the very least, that you don't seem mad at them anymore."

He only frowns whilst knocking your pawn over with a bishop. "I wasn't mad at them."

"You were. Even I could tell."

"They almost got you hurt."

"Almost," you remind him with a small huff. "They were just slimes! No harm no foul."

You make a fatal move, but he doesn't even gloat because he's too busy cursing out the Knights in his head.

"I just find it in poor taste that they would ask for your hard-earned Mora after endangering you like that." He shrugs you off nonchalantly, as if you can't see the fire blazing in his eyes at the mere thought of it. 

You blink at the chessboard as he checkmates you, slumping back in your seat with a tiny pout. "Once again, you've bested me."

"It seems I have," he says, lips finally twitching up into a small smile.

"Don't you ever get tired of beating me at this game? I sure do."

"That's a shame. Same time tomorrow?"

He watches with a laugh as you grumble in irritation. You can't help but notice how quiet it is, even over the chatter of the people in the plaza. There's something off about him today.

It's clear that he doesn't want to be here, volunteering his time to the Knights for a cause he has no faith in. It was a favour for Jean, he told you, to which you mused that he owed a lot of friends favours.

To be a noble in Mondstadt, and especially the wealthiest, Diluc is obligated to attend all sorts of gatherings he detests. You can see it written all over his face.

"Hey," you call out to him softly, leaning over the table. Your voice is a hush as you tell him: "Let's get out of here."

He glances around. "I'm expected to be here, you know?” He laughs once more, though he seems to be considering your offer. He decides to indulge you. "Where would you like to go?"

You think for a moment, brows furrowed. He watches the minute twitch of your lips, the creases of your smile; everything about you is so alive and beautiful.

Then, you point. You point high, with a breathless giggle. 

"There," you say, gesturing toward the giant statue of Barbatos, "let's go up there."

He almost flat out rejects you, wanting to scold you about how dangerous it would be and that, for someone without a vision, you sure do have the gall to even suggest it.

But then he sees the excitement twinkling in your eyes, which are already scrunched up from how big your smile is. How could he refuse?

Diluc ends up trailing behind you, inconspicuously hugging his coat close to his body. You don't realize why until you're standing at the feet of the statue.

You gasp at the bottle of wine tucked into his coat. "Did you steal that?"

"The Winery provided all of this. I would hardly consider it stealing," he chuckles.

You nudge him with your elbow, a grin on your face as you accept the bottle into your hands. "I didn't know you were so sly, Diluc."

"I used to do this all the time when I was a kid."

"Steal wine bottles?" You look at him with wide eyes and an impressed smile.

"The maids forbade me from drinking at the Winery's banquets. Try telling a thirteen year old boy not to do something, see what happens," he huffs in amusement.

"You don't even like wine," you remind him. Diluc only hums in response, grabbing it and stuffing it back into his coat as he takes his first leap up the stone.

"Consider it a gift.” He twists around so he can look down at you where you stand, watching him with a mixture of fascination and horror.

His hand extends to yours. For as many times in this life as he is willing to offer it, you would take it.

He helps haul you up to the very top, barely breaking a sweat as he watches you climb beside him. After all, he withstood countless adversaries in his time in Snezhnaya: climbed mountains as tall as the sky with nothing but his claymore. 

When you ask how he's so calm about this, he only tells you that he used to climb to the roof of the manor when he was a boy.

He had a lot of secrets kept caged up in his body, you realized many months ago. Diluc was never too vocal about his time before he returned to Mondstadt.

You do remember, however, that at the banquet they threw for him to celebrate his return home, he seemed cold and indifferent to the warm welcome. In fact, it was like his mind was entirely elsewhere. You can picture the day well— it was the largest order of flowers you'd ever received after all.

You're glad he's settled back into Mondstadt, at least. You just never thought you'd have a chance to actually meet him.

He watches as you nervously teeter over to the edge of the statue, peering down with a nervous gulp. You relax when his hands steady you, gently guiding you to sit down in a more safe position.

"I've never been so high up off the ground!" You cry out toward the city, feet dangling over the edge of the Archon's hands.

"It's nice, isn't it? Much different than the kind of heights you feel on Dragonspine."

You take in a long breath of fresh air, as if savouring the wind at this height. "It's pretty.” You finally conclude. There's a dreamy sigh on your lips that makes him laugh.

He uncorks the bottle he lugged up with him, passing it over to you. Instead of taking it, your head tilts back and he takes the opportunity to pour the wine past your lips himself.

Silence festers between you two as he pours the sweet alcohol into your mouth, all rational thought being carried away by the wind.

He isn't sure how long you stay that way: shoulders touching, hair blowing, and feet dangling in the air. For someone who wanted to climb the statue to see the city, you sure are being shameless in your staring directly at him.

You're looking at him in a way that makes him melt— eyes so laser focused and crinkling with your smile. You look at him like he's the only person in the world. Right now, he might really be that important. His heart swells in his chest.

"What is it?" Speak your mind. Let me hear all your crazy thoughts.

"You came all the way up here with me. You came up here. With me."

You emphasize your point by extending your arms out to your sides, feeling the breeze wash over you.

He knows what’s coming next. You love clichés. And he doesn't stop you, for some reason, when you open your mouth again just as he predicted.

"I think I'm falling for you."

"I would hope not. We're pretty high up in the air."

You swat his arm with a huff, face turning a little more serious. "I mean it!"

Diluc grows quiet, looking out toward the city. His home. The place he grew up, and the place he'll spend the rest of his days. The distant sound of people chattering, water flowing from the fountain, music playing: all sounds he's grown so familiar with and yet—

"I love you."

—he never thought it could be so beautiful until he climbed up here with you.

"You love a lot of things," he muses.

"Like what?"

He looks at you softly. "Like Cecelias. Mondstadt hashbrowns for breakfast. And you say you hate the cold but I know you love it up in Dragonspine— think it looks so pretty with all the snow."

You nod, mulling over his statement before asking: "What else?"

"I know you love that orange apron; Flora's mother sewed it for you herself, didn't she? And you love Anemo slimes, think they're the cutest thing in the world even though I've seen them explode in your face multiple times before."

You're listening to him intently, watching his lips as he lists off all the things he knows about you. And he's been going for so long that you have to wonder if you've really only known him for eight months.

"You love Starfell Lake and making wishes while you blow away Dandelion seeds. You love fire seelies and tea imported from Liyue and going to charity events like this even though you don't owe the Knights any of your time."

Another silence settles between you.

"So I'm a romantic. Even then, you still won't accept that I love you?" You ask him quietly.

He hesitates only for a moment, but you still catch it. "I won't."

"What is it with you and your cynicism about romance?"

"It's not like I don't believe love exists—" He’s looking at you right now, after all: living, breathing proof that Diluc could love something. "—I just... it's not for me."

"Not for you?" You repeat back to him in disbelief. "Love is beautiful, you know. You don't even want to give it a chance?"

You're looking at him earnestly, both hands pressed against the stone of the statue beneath you as you twist to stare him down.

"It's complicated," he murmurs, tearing his eyes away from yours. In his peripherals, he can still see you facing him. He doesn't dare look at you again for the sake of his own resolve.

Love was always a messy emotion for Diluc. To love was to trust completely, to be vulnerable and open. But he's been betrayed one too many times for his heart not to ache at the idea of falling in love so willingly.

It terrifies him— to have someone holding his heart in their hands with the chance that they could crush it into dust with the snap of their fingers.

Diluc was alone for many years in the northern region of Snezhnaya. He's good at being lonely. It's a part of the air he breathes, something engraved deep into his bones, terrible and grim and consuming his flesh until he's nothing.

He hadn't even realized he had grown accustomed to it. Not until he met you. Not until you stole his heart at first sight. Not until you made him understand all those times his father would speak of his mother once she was gone. It was always easier to be alone until he met you, and suddenly you came along and flipped the whole world onto its head.

Now Diluc can't be alone— he was losing the ability to sit in solitary silence without his thoughts screaming in his ears. He was constantly thinking about you. And it was always distracting things, like wondering when he would see your smile next, or when you would ever dance with him again.

Your head falls against his shoulder, hair tickling under his chin as you rest there. As if it were a remnant of eons past, his lips find the crown of your head reflexively. And you don't pull away by any means, allowing him to be affectionate the only way he can and accepting him as he comes.

The words don't need to be said anymore. He already knows. It's a story rewritten a million times over, buried somewhere deep in his soul.

He decides that maybe, just once in this life, it would be okay to take the risk. If it was you, he would be alright.

His arm comes around your waist protectively, pulling you closer into his body as if you'd disappear with the wind if he let go. He holds you there quietly, listening to your soft murmurs.

Diluc Ragnvindr deserves to be loved, is what you're telling him.

And despite the scars littering his body and the chains wrapped around his heart, he allows himself to believe it.

Diluc loves you in the summer, in the hands of the Anemo Archon. He loves you, and it smells of Dandelion Wine and the lingering scent of sweet flowers in your hair and all the things that make him dream of you.

For the first time since he returned to Mondstadt, he doesn't feel alone.

AUTUMN

It's the anniversary.

Diluc remembers the day too well— the smell of blood and flesh and how cold a corpse is. Sometimes it's all he can think about.

He cried when his father passed, as all boys would. Then, a fire replaced the hollow sadness in his heart, something fierce and dangerous and unhinged.

Fierce and dangerous and unhinged. Descriptors that he would consider second nature to him behind closed doors of the Tavern and hidden in the grapevines of the Winery. No one would ever know the real Diluc Ragnvindr, hellbent on vengeance since he was only a boy crying at his father's grave.

It wasn't until you came along that he felt something new blooming within him— something like beautiful flowers and a heartbeat slow and steady as waves on the shore, a yearning so powerful that it displaced the ugly bitterness in his heart.

Nowadays, Diluc felt like a confusing mixture of both light and darkness— treading the thin line that separated him from living in the moment with you, and seeking revenge for the past.

He doesn't realize the conflict within him has been bubbling into a raging fire, tearing him in half from the inside out, until today.

He talked to you about his father once, over a plate of sugar-frosted slime and Liyue imported jasmine tea. It was a day like any other, with you seated across from him having an afternoon snack.

My father liked sugar-frosted slime, he told you. It was the first time he'd ever let it be known that Crepus was on his mind, ever so present. A ghost haunting him. You didn't think much of it. Diluc seemed perfectly content living through his memories.

It was coincidence that brought you here on the exact day the world lost Crepus. Or, perhaps, the nagging voice in the back of your mind telling you to get out of bed and come here.

Your son is a wonderful man, is what you first whispered to the grave. And then you couldn't stop the words from pouring out of you, rambling on and on about how he raised a good boy, and how Diluc had taken your heart the moment you laid eyes on him.

He finds you sitting there in the rain with a sad excuse for an umbrella popped up above your head. His father's grave is adorned with flowers of all kinds— a respect that no one had ever paid him before.

You don't realize how much you move him with such a simple act. He had long since lost faith both in the Knights and the citizens that once looked up to his father so much; after all, it was only he and Kaeya who ever came around to visit.

It's not until he crumbles to his knees beside you that you even notice his tears, your smile fading as he looks at you in confusion.

You're not sure you've ever seen Diluc cry before.

"What are you doing here?" He asks, head tilting into your palm when you reach forward to wipe his tears with your thumb.

"Saying hello," you respond as if it's the obvious answer.

"You... huh?"

"It would be rude to fall in love with you without at least introducing myself first."

"You didn't have to do—" Diluc gestures to the grave, "—all this."

You smile. "I wanted to.” And the truth is as simple as that.

You were too good for this world. Something beautiful in a place where only ugliness lives. He almost hates how much hope you give him.

The world was always black and white for Diluc. Recently, he's been finding it hard to distinguish the two. 

There was right and there was wrong and there you were teetering between them, balancing hope and despair. It scared him to think of all the ways he could lose you, how he could one day end up bringing flowers to a grave with your name on it just as you did for his father.

What's the point of love if all it ends with is hurt?

He's sniffling, trying to chew on his bottom lip to distract himself from the ache in his chest. You notice his sudden quietness, turning to look at him.

"Hey.” Your voice is soft, as if he would shatter if you even spoke to him wrong right now. He might. "It's just me. It's okay."

"I don't cry. I hate crying," he admits through his tears.

He can't remember when he had cried last. Was it the day he came home? Or was it longer, like during those lonely nights spent hiding away in the mountains? The only vivid memory he has with tears staining his cheeks was the day his father died.

"You don't have to be ashamed of crying," you tell him, using your thumbs to wipe his lashes. "There's nothing wrong with that."

"I'm Diluc Ragnvindr. I'm not supposed to cry."

"You're Diluc Ragnvindr," you repeat back slowly, pulling his head toward you and cradling it against your shoulder. "You're human. What's wrong with that?"

Diluc doesn't feel human. He hasn't felt human in a long time. He's been something more like a ghost wandering around the places he used to love. Memories tainted by hatred and grief, it was as if he would never find beauty in this world again.

"I'm not," he breathes. "I'm not anything."

You pry him off of you. He blinks at you through his tears.

"Do you really believe that?"

He goes quiet, only staring at you as he soaks in your earnest eyes.

"I don't know what I am. I don't know what to do in this world anymore."

He's a mess of emotions— he almost wishes he were back in Snezhnaya where everything made sense. Where his entire existence was built up of seeking retribution. To a time when he knew where he belonged.

Diluc Ragnvindr only ever knew revenge. Only ever knew how to inflict pain. Only ever knew how to break kneecaps and hide in shadows and keep his lonely body warm with his Pyro vision.

He doesn't know love. He doesn't know how to do it without fighting the fire burning in his stomach when he grieves—

"You're just Diluc. Do you ever need to be anything more than that?"

—or maybe he hasn't given it the chance it deserves. The chance he deserves.

He realizes then, what love must be. What kept him up at night, the feeling raging in his chest:

There was no corner of Teyvat he could ever call home without you anymore. He belonged here, with you.

And accompanied with this realization is something that he hasn't felt in many years. Peace. A stillness in his body and the calm in his mind which was usually racing with contemplation— something he never thought he would feel again.

And it's because of you. Only you. It would only ever be because of your love.

"Would you accept me as I am?"

You smile. "I always have."

"You don't know who I am. The things I've done."

"Are they that bad?"

"Awful."

You hum in thought, thumb mindlessly brushing his cheek back and forth. "We have all the time in the world for you to explain," you add with another soft smile, "I believe you have your reasons. I believe in you."

He laughs, exhales shaky. "You're insane."

"Am I? But I think you're falling for me anyways."

So what if he is? He can't find a single reason wrong with it anymore.

The rain has started to let up, the world around him lighting up with warm sun. And you look so radiant like this, surrounded by the fog brought in by the storm and shining in sweet sunlight.

"Do you think we have your father’s approval?"

He doesn't have to answer that. Not when you're already leaning in closer to him.

The diminishing pitter-patter of rain against your shabby umbrella fills his ears. You're so close that he swears he can hear your heart thundering in your chest. 

Diluc has always been brave; he was a terrible troublemaker of a child that grew into a body too big for a boy— some part of him that he kept locked away for the sake of living his life as his father would have wanted. If he wanted to lead an empire of a business, he would need to grow up eventually.

He's always been brave, but he was still too much of a coward to stop using his father as a way out. Because he knows Crepus would have wanted Diluc to find happiness, not vengeance.

It's about time he stopped being afraid.

"I think he wants me to tell you something."

"And what's that?" You smile.

"That in this life—" he breathes, "—in this and the next and the one after until the stars of Teyvat run out, I will love you."

You snicker. He can feel it rumbling in his own chest. "How romantic," you tease with his breath in your lungs.

He shuts you up with his mouth.

Diluc kisses you in autumn, with the golden leaves of change. Diluc kisses you warm and sweet and long. He can't remember what was filling his senses at that moment. Your bodies were too close for him to care.

WINTER

Winter was always a bothersome season.

Even in his days away from Mondstadt, in all the time he spent roaming the north, he never quite grew accustomed to the freezing temperatures and harsh weather.

When Diluc left for Snezhnaya, he left his childhood behind, too. He abandoned who he was on the doorstep of his manor, put all his funds into the hands of Adelinde with no intent of returning, and left in the middle of the night without a word.

Half of him expected to die. The other half expected to not return by choice.

For the first few months he spent adjusting to the northern climate, he tucked himself away in a hidden cavern away from the Capital where the Tsaritsa resided. He was in no condition to battle, let alone challenge a god.

He spent many days stealthily hunting down lower ranking Fatui— people that no one would miss. At eighteen years old he had enough blood on his hands to guarantee Celestia's smiting. Blood that, as he learned, does not wash off.

He had to teach himself how to travel through thick snow. Through blizzards and hail and subzero temperatures nothing alike to those felt on Dragonspine.

And when he finally returned home, battle worn and hardened and cold, he couldn't stand the snow. Every crunch under his boots reminded him of the times he had to lug around his greatsword through treacherous enemy lines. Even the sound put him on edge for incoming attacks.

It wasn't like he was ever particularly fond of the cold but for a long time, as a boy, he would simply tolerate it. He had his Pyro vision, after all, and it never truly caused him any harm.

When Kaeya received his Cryo vision, things took a turn.

The cold represented nothing but death for Diluc. It was pain and grief and sorrow— loss in magnitudes indescribable to anyone else. It was bloodshed, the terrible stench of flesh, metal on metal. It was homesickness.

There was nothing poetic or beautiful about it. It only reminded him of all the things he had lost.

He would roll his eyes when Venti sang about the first snowfall of the season. His Pyro vision would glow until the ice melted around him. It's impractical, he told you when you first met and he was guiding you back down the mountain. It doesn't do any good except make you slip and fall.

Diluc remembers quite vividly how you snorted at that. And, like always, you went on to say things that would make his head spin. Find beauty in life even where you think it doesn't exist.

He didn't heed your advice all too much, instead grumbling about how his claymore was getting heavy and that he wanted to get back to the Winery as soon as possible.

But then he found that it was hard to ignore your words. Especially when you were showing him exactly how to do it— popping frozen grapes into his mouth that were somehow a little sweeter; mixing him hot cocoa the way your mother taught you; throwing snowballs at him from behind trees and thinking you've won until he nails you straight in the face in retaliation.

Winter always brought a smile to your face. And how could he not smile when you are?

The best part of it all was that the cold made you cling to him a little closer. A little tighter. So close that he swears he can hear your heart beating in his own ears, savouring his warmth unlike anyone he'd ever met before.

"My personal fire seelie," you joked once. He pinched your cheek until you slapped his hand away and buried your face back into his chest.

Diluc is pretty certain that he hasn't been this happy in a long time. Not since before his father passed, at least. Even with the nervous sigh that leaves him, you're urging him forward.

"I can't believe you never learned how to skate!"

"It's... not something noble families would have approved of."

"But you have this whole lake in your backyard!" You gawk. He only stifles a laugh, stumbling clumsily into your arms. You catch him as if you'd done it a thousand times before.

"Show me how it's done."

"It's like dancing," you say with an encouraging grin, pulling him along with you slowly. You're half right. Some aspects of it do remind him of a warm spring night, with music playing and your laughter in his ears. On the other hand, he can't seem to keep his skates straight.

"The ice won't fall through, right?" He murmurs anxiously, nodding at the Pyro vision hung on his belt.

"If it does, I'll save you!"

"I don't think you'd be able to carry me up from the water," he deadpans.

"I'd save you," you insist.

"Really?"

"Yes, really! For as many times as you need me to save you, I will."

And you did save him. Though, that statement is better left unspoken for the sake of the heat rising to his cheeks. Instead, he leans in to press a kiss to your forehead.

"I love you," he whispers into your skin.

Find beauty in life. Another set of words he never thought he would understand. But he's staring at beauty right in its face and it smells like Cecelias. Dances like a shooting star. Loves unconditionally.

Diluc always loathed winter, until you redefined it into a thing he missed dearly—

Home.

© ALABOADOA 2023 — please do not translate or post my works to other platforms.

crossposted to ao3!

🏷️ @rintosei hi babe its up <3

[buckets-and-trees]

Do You Remember

Characters/Pairings: Minotaur!Bucky x Botanist!Female!Reader Word Count: 460 Summary: You belong to him.

Content Warnings: monster fucking, vaginal sex

Logistical Notes: For the @bucks-and-noble Summer Send Off event. Using lyrics from the song "September" by Earth, Wind and Fire for some of the thematic elements (bolded).

Additional Notes: Follow up to Sacrificial but just a moody smutty drabble that can be read without context.

↠ Masterlist | Aspen's Ask Box | Field Guide to the Forest

As tangible as your surroundings were – the dirt, the lush green jungle, the sounds of exotic birds whose song was now so familiar – the situation hardly seemed real, and your brain didn’t know what to make of your waking state. Dream or nightmare?

Many mornings you woke from golden dreams that bled into shiny days.

Some mornings you awoke troubled, and he was always too perceptive and knew. And he didn’t let you stay troubled if he could help it.

He was very clear that he wanted you happy and content. How could you not be? This is still what you wanted, what you signed up for. What did you lack? Nothing. Your contract was essentially being fulfilled. You had pledged to three years of research. You wanted for nothing in your lab for research. You had known it would be remote, had agreed to being cut off from the rest of the world due to your remote location in the Amazon.

That you were his and that it was clear you were not to leave – would never be able to leave, why would you want to leave, little lamb? – was not part of the agreement.

And when it was like this, your clothes torn off to the side, with your fingers digging into the dirt beneath your palms, on hands and knees, with his hulking form kneeling over you, his bare chest pressing against your naked back, and his thick cock pressing into your stretched and slick canal, your hips pressed back against him, it was hard to remember why you would want to leave.

“Yes, lamb, it doesn’t hurt, does it? You take my cock so beautifully now, make such pretty noises, and I can have you anywhere. Your body is so willing to take me. You were that first day, and you have been every day since.”

You whimpered helplessly. He was right.

As terrified as you had been when the figure of the minotaur had appeared to claim you as the village’s sacrifice, you had also easily become his. Your body craved him now.

It doesn’t matter that you’re naked being fucked by this half-man, half-beast in the rain forest. No one will find you. You’re certain of that.

One of his rough hands came to your chest and he groped your left breast before tweaking the nipple painfully. “You’re mine.”

“Yes,” you yipped. He knew how to ply your body and make you desperate for him, and that was more dangerous than his mere existence as the beast that he was.

Body trembling beneath him as he railed you in a state of nearly mindless pleasure, you couldn’t remember if you wanted this or not. Do you remember anything before this? Before him? Before this September? Was there anything before him? He’s giving you nearly everything. Do you remember? What else would there be to remember in comparison to this?

Commentary/additional pieces on the Minotaur!Bucky saga:

"haunting thoughts" on THIS PIECE for the Dark Forest Fest

"haunting thoughts" on Sacrificial for the Dark Forest Fest

brief insight into what reader's life is like now

physical appearance of Minotaur!Bucky

easy and challenging parts of writing the fic

the writing of the story from concept to completion in one night

↠ Main Masterlist | Aspen's Ask Box | Field Guide to the Forest

I do not do tag lists, but FOLLOW @buckets-and-stories and TURN ON NOTIFICATIONS to be updated any time I publish a new work!

[liliewrites]

" BLACK SORROW ! "

a/n ; hehehe, another reference. this one is relatively easy though. can anyone guess? this fic itself though.. is.. well.. it's something. Also, this is my first entry for @edgeray's halloween event!! There's two more coming up!!

-warning/s ; SIZE GAP, SLIGHTLY PLOT HEAVY, UNUSUAL OBJECT AS STRAP ON, SQUIRTING, MIGHT BE OOC. -pairing/s ; Tengu Demon Kujou Sara x Fem! Reader

(men and minors, please dni utc !)

“Oh, little one.. Have I not told you to leave?”

Her voice echoes in the night, and you find yourself in the shadow of her tall stature. Her back faces you, and all you can see is her gorgeous raven black wings protruding from her back as it wraps around her. 

“This place is not for a little human like you.” She continues but you pay no mind to her words as you could see it — the same feathers you find in every nook and cranny of your home, more often on your roof. 

“.. You, you’re the one who makes those noises on my roof every night, aren’t you?” You question her and she turns to face you though her face was obscured by a dark red, ominous mask that you could recognize anywhere within the Empire of Inazuma. She was a Tengu, that was no doubt. However, this one was quite peculiar. You may have never seen any other Tengu in your life, but according to what you’ve studied, Tengu are known to be proud, sometimes even aggressive as they are hailed as masters of the sword and the lords of war. This one dwelled here, in the dark within the woods of Inazuma in total isolation. She was away from the skies, from the mountains, where her fellow kin usually roamed.

“Little one, I do not appreciate being followed..” Her words cut you off from your trance, and you realize that the way she speaks is kinder than most Tengu you know. So with a smile, you reply in a cheeky tone, “Neither do I, Miss.. Tengu?” your words trail off as you were unsure of how to call her, but then you lean down to pick up a feather that fell from her. “I know these feathers, they’re the same exact ones I find in my yard.”

She stands proud, staring curiously at the feather in your hand before shaking her head. “Nay, How are you so sure that those feathers belong to me?” She asks, and you knew that you were prepared for this question. You grabbed a few more other feathers from her pocket, bringing it up for her to see. 

“See, Miss Tengu.. These feathers are of different shade and different sizes. Compared to yours, it’s way smaller and are a few shades lighter too” 

She leans back again, her wings slightly dropping down as she stares at you. You may not see her expression, but you could feel the awe radiating from her. “I still do not see the reason why you’ve come to follow me here, little one. It’s dangerous here.” She tells you, shaking her head as she starts to walk away. 

You see nothing, but you are not afraid to catch up to her as you feel as if you’ve harbored the obligation to get to know her more.

“B-but Miss Tengu-!” 

Though, you are nothing more than a mere human. You trip on a rather large rock in your haste and you almost fall down on your front, but the Tengu immediately catches you and pulls you close within her wings. 

For a while, now you could see her a bit more properly, under the moonlight and you could see her hair, at least. Before you make any other observation, she lets you out of the comfort of her wings. She sighs, walking slowly now. 

“I just wish to know why you often perch on my roof, Miss Tengu..” you tell her, looking up at her in adoration. You could see how tall the woman was, and you could clearly see how well built she is. “Leave, little one.” She says in a much more stern tone, though she doesn’t push you away, so you take this as a sign to not move away.

“No, I want to talk to you, Miss Tengu..”

“There is nothing to talk about, leave.”

You pout at her stubbornness and she sighs at your own. 

“But-”

“I said, leave!”

Her voice echoes throughout the silent woods, and the startled one who were peacefully resting in their nests flee to the skies. You find yourself stuck to a tree with a knife pinning you by your sleeve on the trunk. “Little one, I do not wish to abandon you here in the dark alone.. but you are too stubborn.”

“Can you blame me, Miss Tengu? I cannot help but find you captivating.”

Sara remained silent for a moment, looking down at you while you looked at her with the most awestruck eyes. She couldn’t believe her eyes, did you just call her captivating.. ?

“Little one, you think I’m captivating..? You think this is captivating?”

She leans down again, finally lifting her tengu mask. The first thing you see is her strikingly beautiful golden eyes, and you find yourself unable to say something as you were caught in a trance. Thinking your silence was being shocked in a bad way, Sara scoffs and moves her hand to pull her mask back down, but you grab her wrist and give her face a good look.

“Pretty.. You’re really pretty, Miss Tengu..”

You mumble, reaching out to touch her cheeks. Soft, plush but scarred cheeks touch your palm and you can’t help but chuckle.

Sara, however, finds your innocence and amusement as mockery. She is a tengu, a creature whom is to be feared and bowed upon.. not coddled. She instantly feels threatened and insulted. She slams her hand on the tree right beside her head and her golden eyes burn into you despite the darkness that consumes the both of you. 

“You want to know why I perch atop your tree, little one? I stalk you, I follow you. Does that not make you dislike me?” she asks, and you shake your head.

“No, if anything, it makes me want to know you more..”

“I stalk you because I want to consume you.” she mumbles, reaching out to touch you now. Her fingers graze against your cheek, almost curiously, and you feel you hold in your breath. She was close, so close, you could compare your sizes. You could make out a rough estimation of your size differences and from the hand that grazed your cheek alone was big enough to grab you easily like a ball. “.. Miss Tengu, you’re so big..” you mumble out of nowhere, catching you both off guard. You immediately shake your head, about to explain to her what you meant but she catches you off as she scoops you up so easily in her arms. “I tell you that I want to consume you.. and you answer me by telling me that I’m big? You are truly hopeless, little human.” 

She starts to walk, but you keep your eyes on her pretty face. You should’ve been scared, this giant creature had you tightly held against her chest and you were unsure whether what this woman would do to you, but instead you felt safe. "Miss Tengu..?" "... Sara." she answers, and she sighs at your confused face. "My name, my name is Sara." You smile, feeling relieved that she trusts you enough to share her name with you. "Oh, okay! Hi, Sara! Where are we going?" You cheerfully exclaim, as if trying her name out. Sara feels her heart flutter, loving the way her name rolls off of your tongue sweetly. "To my home, where I reside." she answers you, and silence falls upon the both of you for a few seconds.

“I’ve never met such a peculiar human like you, little one.” she starts, and you let out a sheepish chuckle. “I’ve always been unwanted by humans, though I used to serve them. I had a family once, but they had banished me as soon as they found out that I was a tengu yet you’re here, following me around like a lost puppy.” she continues, before putting you down as she stops by the front door of what seems to be a very old cabin in the midst of the woods. She opens the door and ushers you to get in, and so you did. “You are free to stay here until the night passes, when morning comes, you are to leave.” She tells you with a sigh, lighting up the fireplace within her home and finally, finally you get a proper glimpse of her. You watch her as she settles in for the night, ridding herself of any items that would be uncomfortable for rest.

An outstanding height of roughly 7 feet tall, dark raven wings that’re neatly tucked beside her and her physique was well built and toned, a testament to the years of discipline in training you assume. Her skin was littered with scars, both old and new, a common brand for tengus. Though despite her seemingly rough silhouette, her face was that of a pretty maiden’s, regardless of the scars on her face. 

As she finishes, she walks over to you and sits you down by the fireplace. “I apologize, I do not have anything to offer you..” she tells you and you shake your head, quickly reassuring her that it’s fine. “Are you really not afraid?” she asks again, facing you and her stern expression slowly melts to one akin to loneliness. “No, I find you interesting.” You answer, reaching out to touch her face again and she willingly leans down to let you. “Silly little human, do you even fear anything at all?” 

“I do, but I can’t find it in myself to fear someone as beautiful as you.”

She certainly hadn’t expected that, as her eyes went wide with shock as she looked at you in pure disbelief. “You really are something, aren’t you?” she mumbles, letting out a sigh that almost sounds a little fond. “Maybe..” you answer as your thumb grazes against her lips. 

You want to kiss her.

Though you shake your head, that’s probably improper. You’ve only just met and.. 

“Is there something wrong, little one?” She asks as she finds you in another trance, though you held a conflicted expression now. You don’t answer, your eyes kept still on one spot on her face and your thumb ghosting against her lips.

Then Sara realizes, a blush spreading across her face. “... you wish to consume me too, is that it?”

You blink once, and then twice at her words as it bursts your bubble and you find yourself utterly baffled. “Consume you? What?” 

“.. I follow you around because I desire you, little human. I know that I should not, though it bothers me. I wish to feel you, to have you thrown into my sea of desire. I want to consume you.”

You realize what she means now, and it’s your turn to blush. You understand that she feels something for you, and she doesn’t know the exact word to use for it. Like? Love? Lust? Regardless, it’s a bit endearing to know that she has feelings for you.

“I see.. then.. do you want to make that a reality?” 

“Can I?” she asks as her big, strong arms easily wrap around your waist in a gentle embrace.

“Consume me whole, if you wish.”

She hesitates, so you take the initiative to lean in to catch her lips with your own. For a moment, she doesn’t respond and you are about to pull away, but then she scoops you up again in her arms to lift you up to her height and kisses you back with a desire that doubles your own. 

Her hands trail up your legs, feeling up your skin before grabbing onto your thighs to wrap your legs around her waist. She stands up and you feel your feet dangle in the air, catching you off guard and you let out a loud gasp in the midst of the kiss. 

“Don’t worry, I got you..” she assures you, before claiming your lips again. 

It doesn’t take her longer than a minute to lay you down on her futon. Sara stares at you, her breath hitching as you lay beautifully sprawled beneath her, ready for her to claim. Her figure cages around you, though you do not feel trapped as her eyes look at you hesitantly, her hands  tugging at your clothes. “Yes, you can take it off..” you allow her, and she does. 

As soon as all of your clothes are gone, does she only realize how smaller you truly are. Her eyes rake over your form and her hands land on your waist and she can’t help but think how big her hand is compared to your torso. A mewl escapes your lips and it reminds her of her current duty. Her lips travel slowly all over your skin, though each kiss was needier than the last. 

“Little human..”

She whispers as she finally reaches the summit of her journey. “You’re dripping..” she comments, before teasing your stiff nub with a curious finger. Your little gasps cause something to stir in her and the musky scent of your dripping cunt reels her in almost immediately. Her lips latch around you and your hips buck as against her face. “Stay still..” she grunts as her hands grab onto your thighs, pulling you back down with a firm grip.

Again, she starts savoring the taste of your pretty cunt like a starved man who’s been hungry for centuries. She doesn’t even try to hide it either, as you could hear (and feel) her moan in delight  as she laps up your juices. You could feel her tongue slide over your puffy nub, then sliding inside of your wet slit over and over again at a ruthless pace. You let out a cry, unable to keep up with her pace and your hands fly over to your mouth as you find it hard to keep in your filthy noises.

Then suddenly, Sara stops and you whine at the feeling of your high ebbing away without release. You would’ve complained, but she grabs your hand and pins it down on the sheets beside your head.. “Don’t do that, I can’t hear you.. I want more of you.” 

She pulls away for a moment, as if going to grab something. You decide to take a breather for a moment, and boy were you glad. A bit unusual to the sight, yes.. Seeing her with her tengu mask tied around her waist, you felt yourself faint at the implication. That thing was going inside you?? You immediately sat up in protest, but she had already pinned you back down again.

“S-Sara.. I don’t think that’ll-”

“Shut it, now, get down.”

Slowly, she eases it in. You wanted to pry her off you and tell her to give you a bit more preparation, but you doubt you could get a 7 ft tengu off of you with your own strength, more so now that she was slowly losing her rationality for desire. Thankfully, you were at least wet enough for penetration to be possible. “S-Sara, please be gentle..” you plead at least, and she nods in consideration. 

Inch by inch, you feel it slide in. Her face nuzzles into the crook of your neck and she kisses your skin as silent praises for taking her so well. As soon as it’s all buried in, you feel as if all the air was knocked out of your lungs the moment she pulls her hips back the first time. 

You could feel it slowly drag out of you again, and Sara revels in the filthy noises that spill from your lips. She then slams her hips back in, causing you to immediately cling on to her strong shoulders. That’s how it was for the first few moments, slow and long in and outs so you could adjust to the length before slamming back in you.

As Sara feels your grip loosen a bit, she takes that as a sign to finally start increasing her pace. No longer could you savor the feeling of her length, as you were starting to lose your mind to the feeling of it rubbing inside your sweet, filthy cunt. “That’s it, I want to hear you..” she praises you as you start to become a bit more vocal with your moans and whines. 

Needless to say, Sara loses herself to desire once more as she picks you up and your feet dangle in the air again. Her hands grip your waist, and your heart flutters in thrill and pleasure as she starts to move you up and down like a toy. The moment you go back down, her hips buck up against you to hit that soft spot inside of you and you let out the loudest cry you’ve ever made tonight. So of course, Sara started to repeat that same action again, and again, and again and you swear you were losing your grip on your own sanity as you wrapped your arms and legs around her. You kept crying her name, but it sounded like incoherent babbles as she kept fucking into you with that ruthless pace of yours. Though you could feel it, almost there, keep going- and then fuck, the color white had clouded your vision as you quivered in her arms, squirting all over her legs. 

Her pace starts to slow down, easing you as you ride out your orgasm, until she finally stops to a full halt and slowly pulls out. Your feel your whole being tremble for last time at the feeling of being empty, but Sara now focuses on soothing you with kisses once more.

“You’re too beautiful, little human..” she whispers against your ear, holding you flush against her body in a loving embrace. “I don’t deserve you nor your affections..” 

You shake your head at that, giving her a reassuring kiss on the face. “Mhm, that’s not true. You’re as beautiful too. I quite think you deserve me and all my affections..” you answer back in a slightly cheeky tone. 

Sara smiles a bit at your response, finally giving in and kissing you without hesitance. As her lips move against yours, she finds it in herself pledging loyalty once again to a human. 

Except this time, she’d finally receive something back in return and had finally seen light in her life amidst the black sorrows. 

please do not copy/repost any of my works! i only post here on tumblr and not on any other site. thank you !!

[genshinluvr]

The Star that Enchants

Pairings: Various Honkai Star Rail Men x Isekai'd!Reader

Summary: Ever since Nanook decided to tag along on your journey across the stars, the men have been tensed around the Aeon of Destruction. Nanook notices the men have taken an interest in you and have decided to test their patience and show them who you belong to. Can they blame you? It's not your fault you unknowingly enchant people easily.

Note: Man, I did not plan for this fic to be posted so late 😭 It's almost 7 AM, and the fic is finally here! I didn't fall asleep or abandon this fic. I was just easily distracted (and also had to drive my mom to work). Anyway, the fic is finally here! I hope you guys like this one despite me typing it out with no sleep at all! ;v; There are important links down below for those who want to vote regarding smuts and for those who want to be tagged in the next HSR fics :> I don't post anywhere else but on Tumblr (Genshinluvr) and on AO3 (Aaliah_exo).

Warnings: None that I know of 🤔

Word Count: 7.4k

You bury your face into your pillow, squeezing your body pillow with all your might. Oddly enough, your body pillow is very hard and not as soft as you remembered. It rumbles underneath you, causing you to groan softly, bury your face into the soft fabric of the pillowcase, and attempt to go back to sleep. Why does the pillowcase smell so good? Something brushes your hair back, rubbing your back. You furrow your eyebrows and crack your eyes open. You slowly remove yourself from your body pillow to see someone lying beside you. You rub your eyes, letting your vision adjust to the darkness of your room. 

Glowing gold eyes gaze at you with mirth. The Aeon smiles at you and brushes your messy hair away from your face. You blink at Nanook sleepily before sitting up and stretching your arms in the air while yawning. Nanook props himself up with one arm, gazing at you fondly. You let your hands fall onto your lap, staring into the dark. “Should I wake up? Or should I go back to sleep?” Who knew that Nanook was very comfortable to snuggle against.

You plop beside Nanook, turning to face the Aeon. Nanook rests his head on the pillow and caresses your face, gently brushing his thumb against the apples of your cheeks. You place your hand over his and close your eyes, fighting back another yawn. You subconsciously scoot closer to the Aeon of Destruction, burying your face into the nook of his neck. Nanook wraps his muscular arms around your waist and covers both your bodies with the blanket.

“You’re going back to sleep?” Nanook asks, running his hands up and down your back.

You nod sleepily. “The bed is comfortable, and I’m snuggling with you. It’s hard to wake up when you’re so comfortable,” you reply.

You throw your arm over his shoulder and sigh with contentment. Nanook was (reluctantly) offered a room on the Astral Express, and as you can see, Nanook decided not to stay in his room. His room was at the end of the hallway of the Passenger Cabin, which was far from where your room is located. Nanook wasn’t too pleased about it but went along with it. 

Now, every night, Nanook would sneak into your room while you were asleep just to be around you. No one knows about it, and Nanook doesn’t intend to let them know about it. Nanook would rather have them walk in on you two snuggling than him informing them about your night escapades. It’s not like you and Nanook were doing something sinful behind their backs. Nanook is just a clingy Aeon who has to be around you, or else he’ll feel like he’s going to die if you’re not near him.

Just when you’re about to fall asleep, the door to your bedroom slams open, startling you. You jolt up and look at the door to see March standing at the entrance with her hands on her hips. March steps into your room and flicks the light on. The light floods your room, blinding you and Nanook momentarily.

“Dammit, Caelus was right,” March curses.

"What do you talking about, March? Did you and Caelus have a bet over something again?" You ask, rubbing your eyes before pulling your legs to your chest. 

Nanook raises his eyebrows at March, who's sulking. Nanook turns to look at you, propping himself up on his arms. When Nanook sits up, March lets out a strained gasp, pointing at you and Nanook in horror. You weren't sure why March was pointing and looking at the both of you in horror. March blinks rapidly, rubbing her eyes with the heel of her hands so hard she sees dots in her vision. March lets her hands fall to her side, trying to adjust her vision. March sighs in relief, pressing her hand against her chest.

"Whew! I thought Nanook was shirtless for a moment! It's a good thing Nanook wasn't shirtless! Or else I would've been assuming that...." March trails off, laughing sheepishly.

You raise your eyebrows at March. "Assume what, March?" You tilt your head to the side.

March clears her throat and rubs her neck with a sheepish smile. "Oh, nothing! A-Anyway! I think you two should get up now! Everyone is waiting for you two," says March.

She steps out of your room, ready to slide the door close. When you call out to her, March slides the door halfway closed and looks at you curiously as you're getting out of your bed. You straighten your clothes and walk over to the pink-haired girl, who peeks over your shoulders and narrows her eyes at the Aeon of Destruction. March quickly fixes her composure and smiles at you when you stop in front of her.

"What's up, [Y/N]?" March asks, propping her hands on her hips while leaning on one leg.

You rub your arm. "You never answered my question earlier," you say.

March stares at you blankly, her mouth agape. March tries to go through the conversations not long ago, trying to recall the question you asked her. March presses her lips into a thin line and smiles at you sheepishly.

"Can you repeat that question for me? I don't remember what you asked me," says March.

The bed behind you creaks, and footsteps get close to where you and March are standing. You turn to see Nanook, who stops behind you and grabs the door frame above you, gazing down at you and March curiously. Your face flushes at how close Nanook is standing to you. He's so close that you can feel his body heat radiating from his body. March stares at the Aeon blankly before turning to look at you.

"I was wondering if you and Caelus had a bet or something because you said something along the lines of 'dammit, Caelus was right,'" You reply, crossing your arms over your chest.

March's eyes light up, and she nods. "Ah, yes! That! Uh, well, it wasn't necessarily a bet! Caelus mentioned how he peeked into Nanook's bedroom only to see that it was empty. Caelus assumed that Nanook went to your bedroom overnight," March trails off, taking a quick look at the Aeon towering above both you and her.

You raise an eyebrow at the pink-haired girl before you. "I'm sensing a but after that sentence," you say.

March opened her mouth to reply but was cut off by chattering in the distance. You, March, and Nanook peek from your bedroom to see the trio approaching your bedroom. You sigh and close your eyes, resting your head on the door frame. You just want to go back to sleep, but your peaceful slumber is interrupted by March slamming your bedroom door open. Technically, you were already awake before March barged into your room, but you were about to go back to sleep! 

Caelus's eyes land on you, and he smiles. "Good morning, [Y/N]! How was your sleep?" asks Caelus, stopping beside March.

You smile at the silver-haired man before covering your mouth and yawning. "I slept okay! It would be nice to go back to sleep, but you know March! She will do anything to prevent me from sleeping in," you joke.

Caelus, Dan Heng, and Mr. Yang chuckle in response. March huffs and crosses her arms over her chest, sticking her nose up in the air. Knowing March and the three men, you excused yourself to get ready for the day. Nanook pushes himself off the door frame and follows after you without sparing March, Dan Heng, Caelus, and Mr. Yang a glance. The tension between them was apparent, and the five of them decided not to say anything to each other.

Mr. Yang clears his throat. "Nanook, I believe you should give [Y/N] some privacy while they change and get ready. You can get ready in your room and meet the five of us at the Parlor Car," says Mr. Yang.

Nanook turns to look at the brown-haired man, crossing his muscular arms over his chest. The Aeon doesn't reply to Mr. Yang. Instead, he looks over in your direction as you're pulling clothes out from your closet. The sudden silence caused you to look at the door with curiosity. None of them say anything to each other. They all stand there in silence, looking anywhere but at each other, aside from Nanook, who's staring at you.

You clear your throat, smiling at the quintet. "You guys can wait for me in the Parlor Car! I'll be out as soon as possible, I promise," you say, walking toward the bathroom connected to your room. 

Nanook hums aloud, grabbing your attention. "What if I want to keep you company while you're getting ready? I don't want you to be alone," Nanook says, approaching you.

Dan Heng lets out an exasperated sigh, crossing his arms over his chest and rolling his eyes at Nanook's comment. Dan Heng is no expert, but he has a feeling that Nanook is hoping to get a little intimate with you after they (he, Mr. Yang, March, and Caelus) leave your room to go to the Parlor Car. Ever since Nanook has decided to keep you and the others company during your journey across the universe, things have been tense.

Nanook has made it clear that you belong to him and only him. The Aeon of Destruction is very possessive of you, and it doesn't surprise anyone because, after all, Nanook is the one that brought you into their universe. Nanook stops before you and wraps his arms around your waist, pulling you to his chest and resting his chin on your head. He leans down and rests his head on your shoulders, peppering kisses on your neck.

"Are you two just going to stand there, or are you guys going to get ready? Sampo, Gepard, Luka, Luocha, Blade, and Jing Yuan are stopping by today," Dan Heng speaks up, narrowing his eyes at Nanook. "Let's not waste time."

Nanook slowly pulls away from you and turns to look at the visibly annoyed black-haired man. The two men stare at each other, not saying a word. You sigh and pat Nanook's arms before going to the bathroom to change. Once the bathroom door closes behind you, the quartet turns to look at one another. Nanook goes to your bed and begins organizing your bed. From fixing the pillowcases to the blankets, Nanook is distracting himself from the stares. He can feel four pairs of eyes staring holes into the back of his head as he organizes your bed. 

"Is there anything I can help you with? If not, I believe you all can wait for me and [Y/N] in the Parlor Car," Nanook says, continuing to organize and straighten your bed.

Mr. Yang clears his throat, keeping his eyes trained on the Aeon of Destruction. "We wondered what drew you toward [Y/N]. You are the reason why they're in our universe, and there has to be a reason why they're here," says Mr. Yang.

Mr. Yang was right. Nanook is the reason why you're in their universe currently. It wasn't like there was this magical portal that you stepped through, and it transported you to another dimension. Nanook fluffs your pillow and turns to look at the quartet before sitting on the edge of your bed.

"There's no explanation needed. I like [Y/N], and I want them to be with me. I can't stand being far from them. I wasn't pleased with the barrier between me and [Y/N], so I had to take it into my own hands and bring them into our world so they can be with me," Nanook replies nonchalantly, leaning back on his arms with a sigh.

Caelus purses his lips, tapping his fingers on his thighs while debating whether he should ask a particular question he has in mind or not. Seeing the Aeon of Destruction sitting on the edge of your bed after organizing your bed and fluffing your pillow was something Caelus never imagined he would witness. Nanook stares at Caelus as the silver-haired man continues to tap his fingers on his thighs, looking around the room to make sure he isn't staring at the Aeon mindlessly. 

"We know you have these strong feelings toward [Y/N], and we were wondering what you would do if there were other people that take an interest in them," Caelus says slowly.

Now looking at the Aeon of Destruction, Caelus can't help but gulp with anxiousness as the white-haired Aeon leans forward and rests his elbow on his knees. Nanook knows there are other people who have taken an interest in you, and while it would bother him, he doesn't feel jealousy in the slightest. It may be because none of these men have tried to pull something with you. Other than giving you endearing nicknames, Nanook knows he is still at an advantage compared to the other men who have feelings for you. Although this one person, in particular, is a little bit too comfortable around you.

Sampo Koski, a merchant from the underworld on Jarilo-VI. The indigo-haired man is too bold for Nanook's liking, and being in the same room as someone bold enough to touch you is something Nanook is not looking forward to dealing with. But since Nanook is with you in person, he doesn't have to worry about it as much as he would when he wasn't physically present. 

Nanook chuckles. "I have nothing to worry about. While I don't mind sharing, I believe this is the only time I won't be sharing," Nanook says.

Dan Heng scoffs, crossing his arms over his chest. "And what if [Y/N]'s not interested in dating the Aeon of Destruction?" asks Dan Heng.

Nanook smirks, sizing Dan Heng up. If you weren't interested, you would've expressed it a while ago. If you weren't interested, you would've demanded the Aeon of Destruction to return you to your world. But you have yet to do any of those things. You snuggled against him and let him devour your lips when the two of you saw each other in your dreams. Heck, you woke up beside him on your bed not long ago! If you weren't interested, would you be doing any of these things with Nanook?

"If they're not interested, then they're not interested. I'm not going to force them into something they don't want to be a part of," Nanook says, looking over at the closed bathroom door. "If [Y/N] wasn't interested, then why would they be okay with waking up next to me? Wouldn't they kick me out of their room a long time ago?"

March purses her lips and looks at the three men beside her. None of them answer Nanook's question and continue to stare at the white-haired Aeon. The brown-haired man sighs, crossing his arms over his chest.

"Let's talk about this later. The Astral Express is expecting visitors very soon, and we must prepare for their presence. Let's not act up in front of our guests," Mr. Yang says, exiting your bedroom. Mr. Yang stops in his tracks and turns to look at Nanook, who's watching them blankly. "You should get ready as well. We want you to look presentable in front of the General of the Xianzhou Luofu and the Captain of the Silvermane Guard."

Nanook doesn't reply. Mr. Yang, March, Dan Heng, and Caelus walks away from your bedroom and toward the Parlor Car. Nanook lets out an exasperated sigh, gets up from your bed, and slides the door close. Once the door closes, the door to your bathroom opens, and you step out. You smile at Nanook, who sighs in relief and makes his way toward you. Nanook throws his arms over your shoulders, pulling you against his chest before kissing the top of your head. You poke Nanook's chest to grab his attention. Nanook peeks down at you while you stare at the towering Aeon.

"Are you going to change your clothes? Jing Yuan, Blade, Luocha, Sampo, Luka, and Gepard are going to be at the Astral Express soon," you say.

Nanook continues to stare at you, slowly pushing you away from him while still holding onto your hand. You look breathtaking, and Nanook can't help but feel envious. He's not envious of you. He's envious that other men will see you. You're dressed for the occasion, and Nanook doesn't want other men to ogle you like a piece of steak.

"You look beautiful, little one," Nanook murmurs, twirling you into his arms.

You giggle and wrap your arms around his waist, standing on the tip of your toes and planting a kiss on his jawlines. Nanook smiles and kisses your forehead, rubbing the small of your back. 

You snuggle against Nanook, rubbing your thumb against the fabric of Nanook's shirt. "Thank you. And you, Mister Aeon, need to get dressed and ready!" You say, poking him in the chest with a teasing smile.

Nanook lets out a fake frustrated sigh, chewing on his bottom lip. Does he have to get ready and meet the other men that have feelings for you? Nanook refuses to share you with other men. Unless they can prove that they can protect you, make you happy, and keep you safe from harm, then he will reconsider. But for now, after what had happened, Nanook doesn't think he can trust the nine men that have evident feelings for you.

You look at Nanook pleadingly, telling him to get ready. Nanook sighs and finally gives in. You and Nanook part ways at your door— you walk to the Parlor Car while Nanook goes to his room to get ready. You want to tag along with Nanook, but knowing Sampo, the indigo-haired man will track you down if he doesn't see you. You step into the Parlor Car to see the ten people waiting for your arrival.

"Gumdrop! It's good to see you again!" Sampo sobs, getting up from his seat and sprinting in your direction.

You smile at Sampo, waving at the indigo-haired man as he comes at you at rapid speed. "Hi, Sampo! It's good to see you again! How's business going—" Your sentences are cut off when the tall man tackles you into a tight hug before spinning you around.

Caelus quickly gets up from his seat and runs to where you and Sampo are standing. Caelus places his hand on Sampo's shoulders, laughing nervously while giving you an apologetic smile. Sampo puts you down after a few minutes, rubbing his neck with a cat-like smile.

Caelus clears his throat. "I know you're excited to see [Y/N] again, but please be careful. You could knock them off their feet with one swift motion," Caelus scolds the merchant.

Sampo snorts. "I think you mean ‘sweep them off their feet’! I'm pretty good at doing that," Sampo boasts, winking in your direction.

You, Sampo, and Caelus walk over to where the others are sitting. Blade, Luocha, Luka, Gepard, and Jing Yuan wave at you when you arrive at where they're sitting. You sit at an empty chair beside March and wave back at them, pulling in your seat. You made sure to save a seat for Nanook, but you weren't sure if Nanook planned on staying the entire time. Nanook wasn’t fond of being around the other nine men, and the nine men felt the same way.

"You know, Sampo, you're quite bold when it comes to [Y/N]," Luka comments, leaning back in his seat while gazing at you and Sampo with amusement.

There's no denying that out of all nine men sitting at the same table, Sampo is the only person who's bold enough to show his affection toward you. Sampo gives you a pet name and the public display of affection he shows toward you when he sees you. The man isn't afraid to express his feelings toward you, and the others weren't sure if you were entertaining Sampo by letting him be shameless about his feelings for you or if you feel the same way.

You yawn and rest your head on the top rail of the chair and close your eyes. You woke up way too soon, and now it's starting to catch up to you despite you waking up not long ago. Maybe now is the best time to ask Himeko to make you one of her coffee combinations to wake you up. The stronger, the better; you're not much of a coffee person.

"Did you not get enough sleep last night?" Gepard asks, resting his arm on the table while gazing at you worriedly. 

You open your eyes, yawn into the palm of your hands. "Not really. Plus, I woke up a little earlier before March could slam the door open to wake me up," you reply, looking over at the blond man sitting across from you.

"You look lovely today. Is there an occasion?" Jing Yuan asks, smiling at you,

Heat rushes to your face at Jing Yuan's sudden compliment. You clear your throat, smiling shyly at the General of the Xianzhou Luofu. You rub your neck, sitting up in your seat, and not going to lie, you did dress to impress. But the question is: who are you dressing up for, and who are you trying to impress exactly? 

You reply, "I thought it'd be nice to dress a little differently today. I sort of assumed once everyone arrives, we're going to stop by somewhere for breakfast."

Blade laughs aloud, crossing his arms over his chest. "Oh, did you now? I thought you prettied yourself up for a certain someone," Blade says, quirking an eyebrow at you.

Aeons. The way Blade is staring at you with his red eyes sends chills down your spine. You can't help but feel like Blade has something against you. Well, maybe not that, but there's this unspoken tension between you and Blade. You weren't sure if it was because of the first impression not long ago or if it was because Nanook favors you. Whatever the answer and reason is, you don't want to feel tense around the dark-haired man. 

Luocha glares at Blade from the other side of Jing Yuan before looking at you with a small smile. "Don't mind him, [Y/N]. Kafka chewed him out the other day. He won't say why, but it has something to do with his fellow Stellaron Hunter," says Luocha, crossing his arms over his chest.

Ah, right. Kafka. How could you forget about the stunning woman? You smile at Luocha and look away briefly with a sigh. The mood quickly died down because of the tension between you and Blade. You lean in your seat, looking elsewhere. Maybe you're just sensitive today because of your lack of sleep. Arms cage you into your seat as someone looms over your figure.

"I know I said this already, but you look beautiful today, little one," Nanook whispers, leaning in to kiss your cheeks.

You turn to look at Nanook, whose face is a few centimeters from yours. You smile at the Aeon shyly and pat the spot beside you. Before pulling the seat out beside you, Nanook glances at the other occupants from the corner of his eyes before kissing your forehead. Now sitting beside you, Nanook grabs your seat and pulls you to sit closer to him. He then drapes his arms over your shoulders, leaning back in his seat and gazing at the nine men (and March) with scrutiny.

Jing Yuan clears his throat, nodding at the Aeon of Destruction. "Nanook, it's a pleasure to meet you in person," Jing Yuan says, breaking the silence that once loomed over everyone in the Parlor Car.

Nanook grunts, nodding to the General of the Xianzhou Luofu. The nine men stare at Nanook, their gaze subconsciously darting to where Nanook has his arms draping over your shoulders. You lean against the Aeon, closing your eyes. Seeing how.... close... you are to the Aeon of Destruction left a bad taste in the nine men's mouths. Are you and Nanook possibly together by any chance?

"So, you and [Y/N] seem close! Have you two always been this close with one another since [Y/N]'s arrival to our universe?" Luocha asks, gesturing between you and Nanook.

March snorts, shaking her head. March wondered why these men were asking the questions they knew the answers to. Nanook communicated with you through your dreams. Nanook is the reason why you're in their universe at this very moment. While you are unconscious, the first being you see when out cold is Nanook. Nanook this, Nanook that. March lets out an exasperated sigh, shaking her head while slapping her forehead lightly.

"You guys are so obvious that it's painful to watch!" March exclaims. "I'm starting to get secondhand embarrassment," March sulks.

The men look away from March, their cheeks flushing to a bright red. Nanook narrows his eyes at the men sitting before you and him, shaking his head. Nanook runs his fingers through your hair, relishing the fact that he can touch you while the others can't. The thought almost brought a smile to his face. 

Nanook grabs you by your chin, tilts your head up. You open your eyes and look into Nanook's golden eyes as he stares into yours. Nanook strokes your chin with his thumb, a small smile appearing. You can feel the gaze burning holes into your body as Nanook continues to stroke your chin.

Gepard clears his throat. "Pardon my interruption, but are you two dating by any chance?" Gepard asks.

You can hear a slight strain in his voice when he asks that question. Nanook chuckles and turns to look at the silently fuming men before him, shaking his head. Nanook leans in his seat, letting his hand fall on your shoulders. Nanook nudges you to answer Gepard's question, making you jolt. You look at the men like a deer caught in headlights, tucking your hair behind your ears shyly.

You swallow the lump in your throat and shake your head. "Uh, no, we're not dating," you reply.

Luka scoffs. "Yet," says Luka. He turns to Gepard and Sampo, muttering, "That bastard claimed [Y/N] before any of us got to!"

"Anyway! What are we going to have for breakfast? Are we going to dine on the Astral Express, or are we going somewhere to have breakfast?" You ask.

Nanook chuckles beside you and rubs your arm. The nine men's eyes zeroed in on Nanook's hands, watching the Aeon display affection in front of them. The audacity. How dare the Aeon of Destruction get to show you public affection when they can't do it? Nanook has known you for as long as the nine men have, yet here he is, touching you as if you two are couples. None of the men reply, only continuing to look at Nanook's hands.

You sigh, rubbing your throbbing temples and closing your eyes. "I'm assuming we'll be having breakfast on the Astral Express then!" You say.

March laughs nervously, nodding in response. "Yep! It looks like it! Hey, [Y/N]! Do you want to get coffee with me and Himeko? You did wake up before I could enter your room!" March says, getting up from her seat.

You nod wordlessly, getting up from your seat. The men look at you and March curiously as you two get begin walking off. Before you and March can leave the Parlor Car, Pom-Pom waddles into the Parlor Car. Pom-Pom's eyes light up when he sees you before waddling toward you as fast as he possibly can.

"[Y/N]! My favorite passenger! How have you been?" Pom-Pom asks, bouncing with excitement.

You smile at Pom-Pom and pat the train conductor's head. "It's good to see you too, Pom-Pom! I've been well! How have you been, conductor?"

You, Pom-Pom, and March walk to the Passenger Cabin together, leaving the ten men alone in the Parlor Car. The tension is at an all-time high as the ten men look around the Parlor Car, trying to avoid making eye contact with each other. Who knows what will happen between these men without you and March present other than awkward stares and thick tension? Blade crosses his arms over his chest before looking at Nanook while leaning back in his seat. Bade lets out an amused hum, the corner of his lips curving up into an amused smile.

"So, Nanook, Aeon of Destruction, care to explain how a feeble mortal such as [Y/N] captured your attention?" asks Blade. "How do you become aware of their presence through a computer screen?"

Nanook stares at Blade, not saying a word. Just when the ten men didn't think the tension could get worse, it was just even more tense after Blade's question. 

Jing Yuan clears his throat, lifts his teacup to his lips, and sips. "I believe now is not a good time to interrogate the Aeon of Destruction, Blade," says Jing Yuan.

Caelus buries his face into his hands, groaning quietly. "[Y/N] and March had the worst timing in getting coffee from Himeko," mutters Caelus, peeking between his fingers.

After a few minutes of sitting in tense, awkward silence, the door of the Parlor Carbin opens, revealing you, Himeko, March, and Pom-Pom with coffee in your hands. Pom-Pom is latching to your side while you're sipping from the glass mug, commenting something to Himeko and March, making the two ladies burst out laughing. You sit beside Nanook while Himeko and March take their seats around the table.

Himeko leans in her seat, crossing her right leg over the other leg, stirring her coffee. "What did you gentlemen chat about while we were gone?" asks Himeko, tapping the spoon on the rim of the cup before sipping her coffee. 

Sampo clears his throat, looking around at the others, whose looking around the Parlor Car. Sampo props his arms on the table, smiling at the redhead. "Oh, nothing interesting! We all sat in silence and.... enjoyed each other's presence," Sampo says, giving you, Himeko, March, and Pom-Pom a fake smile.

"Oh? Is that so? How interesting," Pom-Pom says. "While you all enjoy your breakfast, I have duties to tend to as the conductor of the Astral Express," Pom-Pom says, walking off before waving you all goodbye.

Once Pom-Pom has left the Parlor Car, the room is plunged into the same awkward silence. You quickly excuse yourself to go to the Phonograph to find music that will fit the setting. Plus, you wanted to find a way to escape the awkward tension between the men while sipping your coffee in peace. While you're flipping through the options, Gepard approaches you and taps your shoulders to grab your attention. You look up from the Phonograph and turn to the Captian of the Silvermane Guards. 

You smile at the blond. "Hey, Gepard! Anything I can help you with?"

Gepard clears his throat, his cheeks dusting pink. "I was wondering how you're doing. I know I asked you about it earlier, but genuinely, how do you feel physically and mentally?" Gepard asks, leaning against the wall beside the Phonograph.

You pause and prop one hand on your hip while leaning on your left leg. "Mentally, I'm doing well! Physically, I'm also well. However, I do get phantom pain sometimes. A random spot on my body would hurt all of a sudden, and it would stop as if it never happened," you reply.

"Have you spoken to Luocha about it? As much as I would love to help you, it's out of my field of work," Gepard says, sighing softly.

You smile at the blond mand and shake your head. After what happened, you haven't seen Luocha, Jing Yuan, Blade, Gepard, Sampo, and Luka since you regained consciousness. Everyone had business to tend to back on Jarilo-VI and the Xianzhou Luofu, and the Astral Express docked at the Herta Express for the time being until you have healed.

That meant you weren't allowed to leave the Astral Express for an amount of time, but it didn't mean you weren't allowed to roam the Astral Express and Herta Space Station freely. Of course, you did need to have someone with you at all times. Since Nanook has decided to be present around you and your traveling companions, everyone has decided to keep their eyes on the Aeon of Destruction. The Aeon of Destruction refuses to leave your side. It's like he's attached to your hips at all times, aside from when you're using the bathroom or taking a shower.

 "I heard my name being mentioned in this area, so I had to come and see what the gossip was about," Luocha jokes, stopping before you and Gepard with Luka by his side. Luocha looks at you and smiles. "I heard you mentioned phantom pain?"

You sigh, nodding. "Yes, I had phantom pain every now and then. It's not as often, which I'm grateful for, but it hurts when I do get them. Almost like these injuries were fresh," you answer.

Luka frowns and gazes at you from head to toe. What Blade said earlier, he wasn't wrong, how you're prettied up and not dressing like how you usually would. Luka doesn't think Blade meant it negatively because you do look beautiful. You look breathtaking and effortlessly beautiful. There are faint scars on your body, but according to Luocha, the scars should go away after two years. This does sound like a while from now, but the scars on your body don't make you any less beautiful than you already are.

"I thought phantom pain was only for those who lost a limb," Luka comments, raising his prosthetic arm and waving it around.

You nod. "It is, but every time I think back to that day, I can still feel the knives slicing my skin like a paper shredder," you reply, shuddering.

You turn to the Phonograph and select something that best fits the atmosphere. You take a sip of your coffee and gesture for the three men to follow you back to the table where the others are waiting for your return. Gepard, Luka, and Luocha were genuinely shocked to see that Nanook didn't follow you to the Phonograph. After all, the Aeon of Destruction is very attached to you, and if he were to be far away from you for a short time, Nanook would become restless.

You place your coffee on the table and sit beside Nanook. Nanook automatically wraps his arms around your waist, pulling you close to him. Himeko and March snicker behind their hands while you rest your head on Nanook's shoulders. Blade stares at you and Nanook, tapping his fingers on the table.

"I'm having a hard time believing you two aren't a couple," Blade comments, leaning back in his seat.

You ignore Blade's comment and point at the servers bringing food out for everyone to eat. "Oh, look! Breakfast is finally here," you say.

You have no idea what time it is, but the morning felt like it was being dragged out, and it was. The tension, the stares, the whispers, and the snide comments made it feel like time was slowing down. It was almost excruciating, to say the least. While cutting and chewing on your pancake, you notice Mr. Yang staring at his phone with intensity. Staring is an understatement. The man was glaring at his phone.

You clear your throat to grab the older man's attention, only for it to go unheard. "Mr. Yang, what's wrong?" You whisper loudly among the quiet chatter.

Mr. Yang continues to stare at his phone, his eyebrows furrowing with focus and confusion. You turn to look at Dan Heng, whose looking at you quizzically. You gesture to the brown-haired man. Dan Heng nods, turns to Mr. Yang, and taps on his arms to grab the man's attention.

Dan Heng clears his throat. "Mr. Yang, [Y/N] has something to ask you," says Dan Heng, pointing over in your direction.

Mr. Yang looks up, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose. "Yes, [Y/N]? Is there something you need?" asks Mr. Yang.

You rest your arm on the table, resting your chin in the palm of your hand. "You were staring at your phone for so long that it made me wonder what you're doing over there that's causing you to glare at the screen like that," you say.

Mr. Yang straightens up in his seat, clearing his throat. Caelus peeks over at Mr. Yang's phone, but the older man sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose. "I was trying to figure out how to change my icon," replies Mr. Yang.

Oh, right. You nearly forgot about how Mr. Yang doesn't know how to change his profile picture. It was cute and a little bit funny, but in an endearing way. You cracked a smile and stood up, walking over to the older man. You hold your hand out, gesturing for him to give you his phone. Mr. Yang hands you his phone, and you kneel beside his chair to show him how to change his icon to whatever picture he desires.

Sampo leans over to Gepard and Luka, whispering, "Does he actually not know how to change his profile picture? How old is Mr. Yang again?" 

Gepard shrugs. "I don't think asking how old someone is is appropriate, Sampo. Besides, I don't blame Mr. Yang for not knowing how to change the icon. Sometimes it can be confusing, and the options are barely visible," Gepard mutters.

"And there you have it! A new icon! Do you want me to show you how to do it again, just in case?" You ask, turning to look at the brown-haired man.

Mr. Yang doesn't reply. Instead, he's staring at his phone and then looks at you. You can't put your finger on it, but his expression was hard to read. Heat rushes to your face, and you clear your throat, poking the man lightly. Mr. Yang blinks and looks at his phone, pursing his lips while gazing at his phone. You're guessing that's a yes. You snort and begin showing Mr. Yang step-by-step how you changed his icon picture to the one he wanted. According to Mr. Yang, Caelus didn't know how to change the icon. You turn to look at Caelus, who smiles at you sheepishly.

"Well, now your profile picture has been changed! If you need any more assistance with customizing anything, I'm your go-to person!" You say, propping your hands on your hips with a proud smile. 

Luka looks at you curiously. "How do you know so much about customizing things when you've been in our world for less than three months?" Luka asks.

You rub the back of your neck. You're a total slut for all things customization. From cars to avatars in a video game to social media profiles and custom computer backgrounds. If you cannot customize things to your liking, you're not interested in whatever the game and product is trying to sell. 

"I'm really into customizing things!" You reply. “Plus, it’s easy to change icon pictures.” 

Jing Yuan leans to Luocha, tapping him on the arm subtly. "Is it just me, or is Mr. Yang looking at [Y/N] like they hung the stars and the moon in the sky?" Jing Yuan murmurs, gesturing over to the brunette. 

Luocha chuckles, sipping his drink. "I'm quite certain that [Y/N] is the star that's hanging in the sky. And might I add the brightest star in the sky?" Luocha murmurs. 

From the corner of Jing Yuan's eyes, you're cheering and clapping your hands when you have the older man change his icon to see if he's able to remember what you showed him. Everyone around you chuckles, watching you throw your arms around Mr. Yang's shoulders and patting his head happily. Mr. Yang's cheeks are almost as red as Himeko's hair as he pats your head while you congratulate the man for being able to change his icon.

It's silly, but you're glad Mr. Yang was able to change his icon without having to ask for assistance. Maybe if he needs help with customizing his phone background, you'd be happy to help him! After all, you're a slut for customization. Before you returned to your seat beside Nanook, you pat Mr. Yang's head again with a wide smile.

"I'm proud of you, Mr. Yang! You did good!" You say before sitting beside Nanook, resting your head on the Aeon's shoulders.

You assumed that after breakfast, everyone would relax on the Astral Express and maybe take a nap. But you were wrong because, to your surprise, the Astral Express stopped at the Xianzhou Luofu. Everyone got off the Astral Express and began roaming around the Xianzhou Luofu in groups, chatting and catching up with what's been happening. You lean against the railing and stare at the bustling crowd below.

You close your eyes, sighing. As much as you love the Astral Express, traversing through space, and visiting other fleets and planets in the universe, you miss being in a place you can call home. A place where you can explore and roam around without having to worry about missing the Astral Express and having to go from planet to planet, solving problems and dealing with dangerous situations.

Caelus pokes your cheek, pulling you out of your thoughts. "What's on your mind? You seem distracted," Caelus murmurs, leaning on the railing beside you while looking at you curiously.

You turn to Caelus, huffing softly. "I'm thinking about how I'll never be able to find a secure place to live in this world. How I'll forever be traversing through space, searching for my destiny, and never getting married and having kids," you sigh dramatically.

"Is that a bad thing? Also, what's wrong with traversing through space? I thought you enjoyed it?" March interjects, popping up beside you with a pout.

You hum thoughtfully, leaning against the railing while contemplating. You do enjoy traversing through space on the Astral Express with your traveling companions. How can you not enjoy it when you get to see the stars in the universe? You get to visit many places you've never thought to have existed in your traveling companion's universe, but they exist and intrigue you.

You sulk. "Don't get me wrong! I love the life I have on the Astral Express! But do you see those stars in the universe? They're free and just existing in space!" You say,

Dan Heng blinks at you. "You're kind of doing the same thing, if you think about it," Dan Heng comments. 

Nanook cages you against the railing, his chest pressing against your back as he rests his chin on your head. You turn around in Nanook's arms and wrap your arms around his waist, closing your eyes, yawning. Despite not dating Nanook, you can't help but feel very attached to the Aeon of Destruction. 

While you're distracted with Nanook, you don't notice the look the other nine men are giving you and Nanook. Sensing the awkwardness and emerging tension, March runs off to fetch Diting. You hear a soft bark, making you open your eyes to see what is barking. March runs toward you with Diting in her arms, smiling from ear to ear. 

"I don't think you've met this little guy before! [Y/N], meet Diting!" March says, holding Diting up to your face,

You and Diting stare at one another for a moment. You reach up and pet Diting, who barks happily in response. You squeal softly and take Diting from March's hands, holding the adorable bionic dog up to your face. You put Diting down and begin running off while the small bionic dog chases after you while barking happily. Caelus clears his throat, takes his phone from his pocket, and snaps a quick picture of you running with Diting after your tail.

Satisfied with how the picture turned out, Caelus puts his phone away and turns to talk to Dan Heng, only to see the others were doing the same thing he was doing prior. Caelus looks at Nanook, who leans against the railing of the Xianzhou Luofu, smiling at the sight of you running and laughing while Diting chases after you. 

March snorts, shaking her head. "Who knew a star could enchant so many people," March hums, quickly taking a picture of you and Diting, making a mental note to herself to give you the picture when you all return to the Astral Express.

Note: I was hoping to get this fic posted before 6 AM, but uh it's almost 7 AM for me because my mind kept blanking out while I was trying to type something. So, if you guys see any errors, ignore them. I haven't slept yet, and I'm hoping to sleep once I get this posted on AO3. I kind of like how this fic turned out :> hopefully, next time, I'll write a fic that's not Nanook-centered (sorry Nanook lovers, but the others need at least one chance with the reader). I'm hoping to write smut for HSR soon, so continue voting for who you want to be the first one to get a smut [HSR smut poll]! ^^ If you want to be on the HSR series taglist, the taglist is also right here [HSR series taglist]. The previous week's discord link has now expired, so for those who want to pop into my discord and lurk or chat with other server members, here is a new (and temporary) server link to [Zhongli's Abode]. To my new and/or returning readers, please keep in mind that I ONLY post on my Tumblr (Genshinluvr) and my AO3 (Aaliah_exo)! Nowhere else except Tumblr and AO3!

Taglist for the HSR one-shot series: @ashwasherelol, @mompt2, @elegantnightblaze, @lunavixia, @jadedist, @pinksaiyans, @n8mareee, @aurelia-xyt, @ssunset0, @starrry-angel, @kaoyamamegami, @kodzuvk, @for3very0urs, @a-cosmicdawn, @g3n0dtt, (Accounts that I was unable to tag are not tagged in this fic. Remember to check your settings if you're allowing people to mention you/tag you in posts or not)

Read more of my works on my Masterlist | Maybe support me by tipping me on Ko-Fi or by reblogging my fanfics! ^^ I will also be posting exclusive fanfics on Ko-Fi as well very soon! I might post all of my stories on there too, but who knows. You can also tip me on Tumblr if you'd like as a way to show support! ^^