#this is more wholesome than the tags imply

[brynn-lear]

When Cuckoos Throw Ores [Yandere!Jing Yuan x Reader]

Questionable Overview: After transmigrating to Teyvat, you and Jing Yuan had lived like family on your shared apartment as getting-by descenders. But, you made an error too grave. You hid the anonymous love letters you received from the person you should’ve trusted the most— and now you’ve got yourself a broken mind. [Fic written for May June]

CWs/tags: yandere themes, isekai, moments where you wish Jing Yuan just committed murder instead so it would hurt less, mentions of failed childbirth, nadia & vlad are adorable, implied hysteria, cute n' wholesome beginning w/ found family to "man... man.", gaslighting gatekeep is JY's passion.

"I'm an adult, Jing Yuan! I think I have the right to leave as I please."

Have you ever been so incredibly fascinated by such a mundane object that all worldly noise drowns?

"The right to trample on my heart? To leave me to drown in my despair while you obsess over a single ore without a single thought for me? I must say, it doesn’t seem very sound. Stay put while I call for Doctor Baizhu."

Have you ever had your hand reach out ever so slightly without you realizing such? For your fingers to curl— for you to seize a trinket as though you were compelled by an existence— an idea higher than any mortal comprehension? As though it was fate? As though it was a fruit you weren't meant to take a bite off?

But the most mundane of all…

"There’s no need! Because great General and Emanator of the Hunt Jing Yuan—"

Have you ever lamented a life that "never" happened?

"— I have the right to mourn the happy ending you took from me!"

Though those uninitiated will rehash the root of events in your arrival to the chasm, the most knowledgeable would start the accounts from your arrival to Teyvat.

You did not step foot alone.

When your worldline was destroyed, so, too, was Jing Yuan's. 

Lady Ningguang greeted you both with a good measure of skepticism. You were both "descenders.", though it was soon made evident that your origins are different. He was from "Xianzhou Loufu," and you were from "Earth."  Course, despite your shared tragic circumstances, not everything shall be handed on a silver platter for unfortunate souls. Ningguang was kind enough to provide you both with a shared apartment complex near the fishing port and since then, you and Jing Yuan had a bond not so dissimilar from siblings. He got a job as a general, and your current position is a little more flexible than your previous one.

Whatever principles and studies were available in the previous realms you lived in, they were carried over in Teyvat. Each word circulating about Jing Yuan’s undefeated sword and lance techniques makes you smile; he, in turn, would enthusiastically applaud your sold artworks and STEM innovations. It makes you wholly embarrassed every time he makes what is supposed to be a celebration of his mission’s success into a congratulatory speech for what you’ve done in the same timeframe. Didn’t matter how minute it was. His comrades had already considered the long-standing tradition as a not-so-private joke.

His lack of personal praise worries you sometimes…

There’s a stark difference in your approach to this new life. You mourned for yours being gone; while he doesn’t speak much about his.

“No rush,” he'd say. “All truths shall reveal itself in due time.”

You know about his world, though vaguely. He has a striking resemblance to the character from Honkai: Star Rail. Course, that implies he had gone through similar ordeals as the character. 

“I am an old man, there is nothing for me to grieve.” He told you once. “I have… already witnessed comrades pass, and then some. Have you encountered the phrase: there are fates worse than death?”

Jing Yuan closed his eyes.

“I… find it easier to assume that it might be the only way to put old conflicts to rest.” He shook his head and downed his final shot of baijiu. Yuan sighed, tasting the aftermath in his breath.

“It’s better to put a permanence in death than another forced rebirth.”

He poured you a shot.

"Some memories are better left forgotten. And that applies to you, too."

Whatever he said felt untranslatable to you, hence, you gave up on making more inquiries. If the day comes and he wishes to open up, you'll be there for him anyway.

Or so you thought.

“Heard you’re planning to add another medal to your jacket.” 

Jing Yuan nearly halted from tying his long hair up. You watched his shoulders tremble, likely from trying to compose himself.

“Ha! You've heard a half-truth, I wasn't scheming on anything, it was merely handed to me.” His tone was calm, but you heard the well-hidden smugness.

You shrugged and sipped your coffee nonchalantly. 

… You seriously wish his uniform didn't hug his form that good. Just staring at him makes the room feel degrees hotter. 

You cleared your throat.

“I didn't say anything about schemes, Jing Yuan. Suspicious.”

“Oh?” He hummed, almost sultry for your ears.

…Curse him and his damn beatific smiles.

This playful banter is as natural as the dawn of day. Rather than spending the early morning getting ready for the day, you've both grown accustomed to teasing the other person. He, in his finely ironed uniform, and you, in your comfy pajamas. 

“Since when have I besmirched my name by squandering time? Rude of you to imply that slothfulness rules over my life.” Jing Yuan joked before he moved another piece. “You wound me, dear (Y/n).”

Due to the nature of the conversation, you hadn't thought of your next move much as you continued to probe him. “And what exactly are you doing right now instead of reporting to the Qixing, General?”

He smirked. “I am on-duty, am I not?”

“By talking to me?”

“I have been bound by mundane duties in both my past and current lives, and I must say, engaging with a Person of Interest such as yourself has not only been productive but also mentally stimulating.”

You paused. 

Person of Interest…?

Might as well curse him and his fancy cursive way of implying something too. 

Your nose scrunched. “Are you saying I'M on the Qixing’s watchlist?!—”

“Not in a bad light; don’t worry your pretty head over such menial matters,” he ruffled your hair as he craned over, gazing at your disgruntled morning expression with a loving vigor. “They have an eye for your talent. No Ministry would ever obsess over a clean criminal record.”

You grumbled as you attempted to fix your hair, despite lacking any energy. “Thanks, that calms me down. Especially with the talks about criminal activity on the rise and all.”

He laughed at your snarkiness.

“Is this your best attempt at prying information? I must say, your current occupation suits you. I can now place a finger as to why the thought of Lady Ningguang hiring you as a profiler put me in tremendous unease.”

“Oh don’t be a prick, Yuan.” You chuckled heartily as you gave him a playful slap— which he no doubt avoided. “But seriously, can’t you tell me more about what’s happening?”

There were no further words needed. Such rumors had been on the forefront of the people’s minds: a group of rogue “mercenaries” had found new temptations in banditry— and had the nerve to stew misfortunes on the main harbor itself. As a newly enforced general, Jing Yuan had, of course, been subjected to handling this situation under the ever-watchful gaze of the Qixing. A challenge, as he likes to label it. Whatever helps him sleep at night, you’d reply.

Although, it would certainly soothe YOUR insomnia better if he were to divulge even a hair-sliver of detail in regards to how “safe” this mission truly was.

“(Y/n), there is no cause for concern.” He pulled back, placing his hands on your shoulders. “You know my repertoire— else I wouldn’t consider you a close friend.”

Your heart ached for a second.

In small snippets from the multiple conversations you’ve had with him, you knew he kept his list of close friends few. There’s always a hint of guilt in his voice when he talks about those named Baiheng, Jingliu, Yingxing, and Dan Feng in passing. 

“And I’m just worrying over you,” you lightheartedly glared and waved your hand dismissively. “You know, like a real close friend.”

You both grinned in unison as if telling each other that neither would back down from this “argument” any time soon. He snorted and messed your hair up more. Over the time you’ve spent in each other’s company, your near-telepathic way of conversing has become quite an eerie issue for other mutual friendships. 

Not that either of you minded this. It’s always nice to be understood. 

“I know that look in your eye. Don’t add a part two from last night’s horror stories, please.”

“Then, I’ll take my leave,” he buttoned his jacket. “Last reminder before I go: you have arranged a meeting with Nadia this afternoon.”

“Thanks,” you huffed. “But unlike you, I don’t sleep in and forget my schedule.”

You swore that even after the door was closed, you heard him chuckle yet again. After that, he was gone.

Honestly, with someone with a “life-loving” temperament like him, you’re unsure if he’s easy to please— or too damn good at faking it for his good.

You heard soft knocks against your window.

Slowly, a grin forms on your lips.

“Hello, little man…” You cooed as you stood up and opened for not only the fresh Liyue morning breeze to enter…

But for a diligent little cuckoo bird to deliver its very special package as well.

You’ve always had a soft spot for animals…

“Hmm?”

Your eyes softened as it dropped its parcel and leaned its body against you, warming itself by sitting cozily on your window ledge. This little bird is quite the skilled messenger— always dropping by as soon as Jing Yuan takes his leave. As to why it suspiciously arrives as soon as he is gone, you’re unsure. Such a sneaky creature; you can’t help but adore it.

That’s not to say its deliveries are not as equally charming.

You chuckled as you elegantly unwrapped the ribbon. The letter was elegantly written in a scrawl you’ve familiarized even with eyes closed for the past months, yet it still holds an intensity that makes your heart flutter. 

There it was. The two words that keep you going better than any coffee brew.

“My dearest, (Y/n),….”

“Another letter from Vlad, I’d hope?” You sneaked from behind.

Nadia yelped, hitting you almost immediately. The delay was surely from being on a lovelorn cloud-nine, but her Fatui training that earned her last name definitely should’ve made you double-think.

You shriveled at the pain and she awkwardly cradled you.

“Oh shucks— I’m so sorry, (Y/n)! I-I didn’t realize it was y-y— Don’t scare me like that!” 

“Sorry! Sorry!” You hissed, blaming only yourself for the stinging aftermath. “I-I’ll get over it.”

Nadia guided you to the empty seat beside her. As soon as you were seated, she wasted no time to spill.

“The contents were far too adorable for my heart, oh, dear Tsaritsa, you NEED to read this.” 

An eyebrow was raised. Saying you had a suspicion that something like this would happen would be an understatement— when it came to Nadia, it was more like routine. It had been regular for you and her to get together at least once a month to chat over letters that you both received. Nothing about the time you spent with her was dull. She's the reason you adapted to the Liyue way of life so well. As you were both foreign to the culture— you and Jing Yuan are admittedly the extreme cases— you and her were eager to recount experiences in times of distress. And times of pure unbridled lovesick joy, such as this.

“C’mon, pass it.” You tried to say cooly, but the glimmer in your eyes betrayed your high school-like excitement.

“Same time.” Nadia huffed. "Can't have you gatekeeping your own letter!"

You pulled out yours from your purse.

Nadia wasn’t the only one with something to present to the class. This is just like a teacher forcing students to read their discreetly passed notes out loud. 

Nadia has her Vlad.

You have your Nay Jung I.

Instantly, you both suppressed a giggle in the abrupt exchange.

Nay Jung I. You know little about him, and that intrigue keeps the fire going. When you see a white cuckoo passing by the window, you immediately know it means well. A sight that makes your heart skip a beat. Instead of pushing eggs, it slips a love letter whenever Jing Yuan isn’t around. All coming from a man you can’t track down.

That’s right.

You have a secret admirer.

As you read through the middle of Vlad’s letter for Nadia, you heard your very-much-an-adult friend bite back a squeal in front of you. Nay Jung I may sound like a feminine name, but he was a man. You could’ve sworn you saw Xiangling laugh from the corner of your eye as Nadia tugged your sleeve around like a fool.

“Oh my God?! He wrote that?!” Her lips were akin to wobbly lines toddlers would draw when mimicking the sun’s rays. 

“I find myself constantly catching glimpses of you in my daydreams, my mind flooded with what could be— what should be. Forgive me for my selfishness, but I fear it won’t take long before I can no longer bear the thought of being without you… What?! That’s so SWEET?!” Nadia clutched your love letter tightly, eyes wide as though she was the recipient.

Xiangling, bless her soul, had to peek behind her.

“I wish I could have the courage to reveal myself to you. When I doubt myself, my thoughts turn to you… Aww… I wonder who Mister Nay is and what did you do to get him this in love?” Xiangling playfully pouted, which made Nadia grin wider, almost teasing her. “Geez. When will I get a boy to send me letters?”

“I’m sure you’re going to get one or two someday. A way to a man’s heart is through his stomach, right?” Nadia shrugged as she folded the paper and hid it. “Plus, I fear you’re too young for this.”

“Careful, Dia, she’s the one preparing our food.” You joked.

Nadia has grown more friendly to locals for the better since you started sharing meals here. Everyone knows the feelings between her and Vlad were mutual— but neither of them was willing to confess. With Nadia hoping he initiates, and him densely hesitant on whether she reciprocates. One of them can end this phase should they abandon pride or cowardice.

But Nay Jung I?

You can’t find his records anywhere… And he had told you that it is a fake name by your fourth letter, much to your chagrin.

So, you’ve settled with this arrangement. For now, you are both friends, despite knowing he has feelings for you from the start.

“Mister Nay definitely has it bad for you, Mx. (Y/n).” She gave you a closed-eyed smile. “You need to write back immediately! The man’s probably starving for it!— Oh, right, the pot!!!”

As the chef rushed back after being distracted, you gave Nadia’s letter back to her.

“Any chance of rain?” You asked.

“Cloudy with negative one percent chance that I’ll run to Northland Bank and confess to Vlad.” Nadia spoke sheepish;y.

“That’s at least five percent higher than yesterday.”

“Well, this last letter was adorable.” She swooned.

“Mx. (Y/n), you seem incredibly free at the moment, care to have a chat?”

You turned to look at the new person who joined in.

Fur coat, a distinct mole placement, a sharp haircut, and eyes self-assured enough to conceal their need for urgent assistance, it has to be none other than—

“Miss Yelan,” you gave her a polite smile. “To what do we owe the pleasure?”

Nadia sat up straight, shifting to her work mode. “Is there some business you require from the Northland Bank?”

“I have no quarry with you, Madam Nadia, what I do want—” Yelan tilted her head, her eyes calculating. “Is to speak to (Y/n) in private.”

You paused, recalling the conversation you had this morning.

‘I have been bound by mundane duties in both my past and current lives, and I must say, engaging with a Person of Interest such as yourself has not only been productive but also mentally stimulating.’

Maybe this is what Jing Yuan was warning you about this morning.

“Fine, I concede.” You sighed, swiftly snatching your letter from Nadia’s hands and tucking it inside the pockets of your inner jacket.

“Lead me to where you most need me.”

Over the years you’ve spent on Liyue, you’ve had another habit you’ve been nursing on the sidelines.

Epigraphy.

Better yet, it’s for the sole purpose of decoding ancient artifacts. Before you were transmigrated into Teyvat, you found that inspecting artifact descriptions and reading through lore strewn in notes and dialogues were a great part of what made playing Genshin Impact enjoyable. You devoured theories whether they were from YouTubers like Ashikai or other CCs who were eager to unravel and analyze myths from different civilizations. To be inside THE sandbox was the greatest treat. If your friends were here, you have no doubt you’d have plenty who’d look and try to pick apart Mister Zhongli’s brain.

Unfortunately, you never managed to catch his eye.

And the biggest misfortune of all, you caught Miss Yelan’s instead.

“It’ll take me a few weeks to decipher and solve this puzzle…” You told her hesitantly. “And I can’t guarantee anything either.”

Yelan only tilted her head. Strands of her hair hid her expression, and the only body language to be read was the way she played with the die on her fingers. You wondered if she was deciding your fate by giving it a roll…

You looked at the inscribed walls.

A man with horns… and his partner wearing a long hanfu… His partner… Reminds you of a beautiful cuckoo bird.

You sighed.

When she bargained for a chat in “private”, the Chasm was the last location you had in mind. Even more, it did not occur to you that she aimed to use you as a translator. For a language you only learned a few years ago.

You knew you couldn’t exactly deny a member of the Qixing, especially with how much you carried a moral debt for Lady Ningguang, so you agreed under the condition that Yelan wouldn’t snitch to Jing Yuan.

He might just give you the silent treatment if he found out you were here.

But back on the walls and the puzzle mechanism in the middle of the room…

Both were seated under the shade of a tree… 

Each holding a cup of tea…

“Damn it, why me?” You cussed out loud.

You seriously want to tell her that she should’ve chosen Zhongli. 

Not that you’d know that Yanfei begged Yelan to hire you for the job.

Yelan made her dice vanish. “If you need further assistance, and by that I meant necessities such as food and water, call for Wenyuan or Shanghua. They’ll materialize right in front of you.”

On the next wall, the horned man tightly held his partner, with tears falling from his eyes… His tail was more apparent in this depiction, but there were crystallized ambers and statues all around…

Like they were running…

Away from him…

You faced Yelan.

“Yelan, can’t you call for someone else—”

You blinked.

She was gone.

You don’t like being here.

You don’t like this cave.

You’re not sure whether you liked the fact Yelan invited you here. On one hand, you were grateful for the opportunity, but at the same time, you thought yourself unqualified for whatever piece of ancient Liyuean history was waiting to bite you in the ass. 

It didn’t take a genius to know that whoever the drawn man was, he was a force to be reckoned with. You played enough Genshin to know that yakshas are not to be trifled. If this ended up as an Azhdaha scenario, you wouldn’t want to be the nameless NPC who died along the way.

Should’ve commissioned the traveler.

As you progressed in your decoding, the texts were beginning to gnaw you. 

“Have you heard the tale of Lady ███ ███?”

You trembled at the thought.

Curse Jing Yuan and his ghost stories.

The story wasn’t even that frightening.

What got you was how Jing Yuan sold them. He had preached it as though he had been a witness. It’s just a typical unnerving tale to keep children alert, but he had always been far more persuasive than you.

“When she and her husband were out exploring, her husband left her while she sired his heir. He left her there to die.”

Jing Yuan’s eyes narrowed. You quietly applauded his commitment to the bit. Should you not know any better, you would’ve thought he hated that man more than anything.

Like he was seething with jealousy.

“Some claim he hid her there to fight for a war, some say it was out of love… In my eyes, it was an unforgivable neglect.”

Jing Yuan claims sharing ghost stories was a common occurrence from when he used to teach his disciple. But you’re not an idiot. You can sniff out a reason why he loves to bring these stupid tales.

“Days felt like a prison tally. She had forgotten what it felt to live in the sun.”

“She lived only by fulfilling basic needs. No matter how thick the mud was, no matter what was within the soil— all she could do was bitterly swallow what was to come. She bit her tongue on the ever-growing famine— and wished that her child would survive.”

Jing Yuan does not want you anywhere near the chasm.

“So when it was time to give birth, she had no assistance. She pushed her child out as hard as she could, and laid an empty egg.”

Before you could even ask why a human would lay an egg, Jing Yuan continued.

“But they both passed away.” 

“Legends say, that’s the reason why the lumenstone ore glows. It contains the watchful gaze of a scorned mother and unborn child…”

“And if you aren’t careful, you too—”

“Could be trapped inside it.” 

You scoffed.

Was the tale stupid? Depends on who you ask. Was it sad? Sorta. Was the thought of two ghosts— possibly more— watching you as you were forcibly dispatched to read through The Chasm’s secrets terrifying? Given the dark and brooding atmosphere, it was a quiet yes.

“Hmm? I— I solved it…?”

You blinked.

Maybe you still retained your skills as a Genshin player. Anything for a luxurious chest is what you would’ve said. And yet, it still baffled you that one did appear.

When you unlocked it, you saw no “primogem” like you quietly hoped (it would be funny if you unlocked a wish function, but that’s unlikely…)

Instead, you found a dusty ore.

“Great.” You muttered dryly. “Just what I needed.”

It was amber in color, same as the clothes the man wore in the wall paintings. You’re at a loss on how you should report this to Yelan.

“Better than nothing.” You spoke, laughing slightly. That sounded like something Diluc would say. You should buy a dandelion wine after this hard work.

Quickly, you fished out the gloves in your pockets. It was made of nitrile, which should protect the ore from possible oil and moisture from your hands. Yelan was very insistent you wear it.

But as soon as you touched the ore…

Your consciousness slipped away.

There was a man in front of you.

But you couldn’t see his face. 

“Dearest ███ ███…” The horned man smiled delicately as he sipped his tea. “It has been centuries since our first wedding ceremony. Do be honest with me, do you still hold the same passion as before.”

These memories appear to you in a blur.

“No, I do not.” You heard your voice say as the man’s shoulders slowly deflated. His amber eyes looked down, and his smile began to strain.

With two fingers, you lifted his chin.

“If anything, my love for you has grown stronger,” you spoke. “For you and I shall never let our draconic instincts dull, and our union will be the greatest treasure we shall hoard in this never-ending flow of time.”

“…/n…!”

One hand took his scaley hand and the other held his cheek, caressing softly.

“Promise you shall return?” You heard yourself mutter, this time weak and hopeless.

He leaned against your palm, purring as though it might be the last time he’ll savor your warmth.

“You know I do not make promises, ███ ███.” He spoke firmly. “What I keep are contracts. And I have vowed to make you happy, for as long as I live.”

“…(Y… (Y/n…. snap… out…!”

“Contracts normally sound so cold, but your honeyed voice makes it sound so romantic.”

“You know well, my love, in all my years, I’ve witnessed endless contracts and agreements. Whether it was tangible or verbal— each one was a significant chapter to someone’s life.”

The horned man softly detangled your fingers from his long brown hair and kissed your hand.

“But only one brought forth complete change. Our matrimonial agreement. The contract we signed gave me the most happiness. I’ve never signed a happier contract than this one.”

“And I share the same sentiment.” You cooed, almost cheeky. “And I hope our future child shall feel our love as well.”

He rested his head on your shoulder and sighed.

“The day shall come, my love.” He spoke. “Just wait for me, until I fulfilled what the Heavenly Principles desires.”

“Of course,” you hugged him back. 

“I shall wait for you, my dearest…

“(Y/N)!!!”

You flinched.

Suddenly, you’re not in the mountains. You’re not hiding under the shade of a tree with warm-hued leaves. You were…

You were sitting on a patch of grass, just outside the chasm.

And Jing Yuan is mad.

He had a cold unmerciful glare. His built frame towered above you, casting a large shadow. It was already nighttime. Normally, only the moonlight and the lamps from afar should be the only source of light here, but his golden eyes seemed to glow. As though it was ready to call forth an entity you were not prepared to face.

You know the depths of his anger. Years of living inseparable from him has made every communication almost telepathic and that hadn’t changed. You can read it in his breaths, in his stiff and tall posture, in his unnerving gaze.

He is threatening you to spill. Saying without words that:

There are fates worse than death.

But your pulse was steady. But your breathing was calm. But your expression was blank.

You weren’t terrified.

And you can read that deep down, that scared the General more.

“Nay Jung I…”

For a moment, Jing Yuan’s eyes widened— as though there was something he was the only one privy to knowing. His face had a mix of surprise and disbelief before he steeled himself.

“Nay Jung I?” He scoffed. 

“What of him?” Jing Yuan asked.

“He’s my soulmate.”

As soon as those words left your mouth, brief incoherent syllables sputtered out of his mouth. You evoked more emotions in him this time around. You saw flashes of shock, what seemed to be happiness, hope, and then utter confusion.

“...What?”

“I saw him.” You said, calm. “I saw him as soon as I touched that rock. My soulmate— he had long hair and eyes like a dragon— I think he was a dragon, and so was I. I think my soulmate is in Liyue and he’s hiding behind the name Nay Jung I.”

Jing Yuan opened his mouth, before thinning his lips.

This time, you were certain.

He was not only mad. Jing Yuan was sorely disappointed.

“I understand…” 

You know the expression on his face. You read him like a discipline you mastered in epigraphy. He thinks that… 

You have gone “cuckoo.”

He turned around, no longer facing you.

“I’m sorry then, (Y/n).” 

Jing Yuan does not sound sorry to you.

“What for?”

There was silence for a moment, before he spoke again, voice bitter and vile.

He was not sorry.

He was furious.

He was hurt.

He was jealous.

“Nay Jung I is the leader behind the past terrorist attacks.” He paused. “And I killed him.”

You haven’t recovered ever since.

Every medical “professional” you’ve encountered told you that you were hysterical. That you just hallucinated what you saw. It isn’t possible that the visions you saw were Nay Jung I anyway. 

Maybe they were right about the last part, you don’t want to believe it. 

It was in your instincts. That man had to be your husband in the past. Who cares if you came from another world? Maybe you were an Expy. You had to be. That person— the one who reminded you of a cuckoo bird in those walls— had to be you in another universe. 

It had to be.

Your real soulmate is out there.

And Nay Jung I isn’t dead.

But you’ve never been good at persuading others.

Soyourefusetobelieveityourefusetobelieveityourefusetobelieveityourefusetobelieveityourefusetobelieveityourefusetobelieveityourefusetobelieveityourefusetobelieveityourefusetobelieveityourefusetobelieveityourefusetobelieveityourefusetobelieveityourefusetobelieveityourefusetobelieveityourefusetobelieveityourefusetobelieveityourefusetobelieveityourefusetobelieveit—

“General Jing Yuan, is (Y/n)…?”

Outside the apartment, Mister Zhongli and Jing Yuan stood by the window, peaking at your form. You were so engrossed by your inner conflicts that you couldn’t hear them.

“They’ll… move on from you, eventually.” Jing Yuan spat back coldly. “I’m not the God of Contracts, but I keep promises that do not fail.”

Zhongli’s face crumpled in anguish.

“May I ask a question? Just to sate a bit of curiosity, of course.”

Jing Yuan’s eyes narrowed. Zhongli took that as a yes.

“Are you Nay Jung I?” He asked. “I did not see his name on the list of the deceased criminals—”

“Yes, he and I are the same,” Jing Yuan silenced him. “Nay Jung I is an anagram of Jing Yuan. You can reorder the letters and confirm it for yourself.”

Originally, Jing Yuan had hoped to woo you with a romantic tale of an anonymous admirer. But, in your delirium, you had mistakenly believed that Nay Jung I was the same man in your visions. 

It was repulsive.

Never before had he wished to scream so loudly. He had not felt this much anger when he discovered the crimes his old friends had done. He had not felt as betrayed as when you claimed love for Nay Jung I, but it was not him.

He wanted to summon the Lightning Lord to destroy Liyue right then and there.

It was a frustration he had never felt before. Not when he was training with Jingliu. Not when he was scolding Yanqing. Not ever.

But Jing Yuan was not an impulsive man.

He prides his patience.

He prefers to scheme quietly rather than flashing bold moves.

Jing Yuan sucked in a breath between his teeth. 

“I suppose it’s my turn to ask.”

He shut the windows and Zhongli’s heart ached as he could no longer see you.

But then he turned to look at Jing Yuan.

And he knew…

Jing Yuan is much older and wiser than he looks.

“Tell me, Rex Lapis,” he spoke sharply. “Did you wed this world’s version of (Y/n) (L/n) and leave her and her child to die?”

…

…

…

That silence was enough.

Jing Yuan’s private investigations behind your back were right.

In the vast “multi-verse”, there is a version of you that married this dragon who descended from his Archon status.

“I... have wrought upon them great suffering. I am unworthy of their affections. Should a day come where (Y/n) enacts the fury of my wife and child on their behalf, it will be justly deserved.”

Zhongli did not further elaborate.

Whatever happened in the past, it still haunted him to this day. Lingering in the back of his mind, dulling his self-confidence and wits. Maybe it’s why Yanfei thought you should investigate the cave. Maybe she wanted the alternate version of ███ ███ to come back.

But she's gone.

Jing Yuan took a step closer.

“Your wife is dead, Rex Lapis. They are my (Y/n), not yours.”

“I-… I know.” Zhongli— no— Morax spoke, voice laced with grief. “I know she and (Y/n) are not the same, however, I…”

Another step.

“If you wish for their happiness, you will continue to not speak to them. You have done enough damage.”

Morax closed his eyes mournfully. “I am well aware of this”

Another step.

“Let me take care of (Y/n). Let me make them happy.”

And another.

Jing Yuan stared deep into Morax’s soul.

In all his years of living, it didn’t occur to Morax that he’d find another familiar cuckoo again.

But it wasn’t his wife.

Jing Yuan took another step.

This man in front of him was pushing and pushing…

“Let this conversation be a verbal contract,” he said. “That I, Jing Yuan, vow to make (Y/n) happy, and that you, Rex Lapis, shall step down as a final way to atone your sins of uxoricide and filicide. Do you accept?”

Like a cuckoo throwing an egg off the nest.

Forgive me, dearest ███ ███.

I am unworthy of you, let alone this alternate incarnation of yourself.

Morax inhaled deeply. He remains in his head, yet he can't escape the present. The more time he spent searching inside himself for solutions over his approximately 6000 years in Teyvat, the more evident it became what the sensible path of action was. With open eyes, Morax welcomed the return of the present. He observed the vivid hues of existence. In the vicinity, he heard Jing Yuan's pet cuckoo bird. But most of all, he felt his age.

Whatever time was appropriate to dream of a family— it had long passed him.

I am but an old man who deserves to fade away quietly.

And he…

Has the same vigor Morax once had.

That obsessed look.

That tight, suffocating hold.

Just like staring at a reflection of himself, centuries passed.

Jing Yuan, too, was a man depraved. Worse, he is a man who lost everything, clinging only to (Y/n) as his only solace in Teyvat.

Morax noticed the way Jing Yuan took a walk with you, with one arm draping around your shoulder to ward off those he deemed unwanted.

Morax noticed the way Jing Yuan brags about you with his men in each available opportunity, socially claiming you his.

Morax noticed the way Jing Yuan glares at someone who got too close when he thought you weren’t looking, pushing suitors away.

Morax noticed the way Jing Yuan rarely talks about his story and would rather talk about something you had done, making you a large part of himself.

Morax noticed the way Jing Yuan only cares about you, and not even a sliver for himself.

He would rather not see him destroy himself the way he had done long ago.

And just like that, the General got rid of his greatest rival— Liyue’s archon and your husband from another life.

He is out of the nest.

“I accept.”

May June can now message Jing Yuan

[frickingnerd]

friends with benefits with leo valdez

pairing: leo valdez x gn!reader

tags: suggestive / implied smut, best friends to lovers, awkward leo & reader, angst to fluff, happy ending, wholesome fluff

you were more than a friend for leo ever since the two of you first hooked up

but he felt like he had to keep his feelings for you to himself and play the part of the guy who you'll eventually mess around with and nothing more

after all, you had asked him after your first time together how he felt about you

"this doesn't mean anything, right? we're still just friends… with some added benefits now!"

leo could've sworn that he heard uncertainty in your voice, as if you were scared of his answer

he wasn't sure what you wanted to hear, if he should confess that he was head over heels for you or if he should pretend like he didn't care about you

he chose the latter, which caused those occasional hookups between you two to happen for more often since then

every time they happened, leo tried to keep you around afterwards; suggesting he cooks you something, that you two take a shower together or that you just talk a little

but no matter what he suggested, you always ran off afterwards

the only times leo got to be with you was when you were in his bed, but despite how close you were to him in that moment, you felt further away than ever before…

your relationship started to become less of a friendship and instead focused more on the benefits

and while leo certainly enjoyed those benefits, he just couldn't help but long for more

he'd do anything to go back to the way things were before, to have you back as a friend, not just someone to hook up with

eventually, he couldn't take it anymore

as you were collecting your clothes again after a session with leo, he gently grabbed your wrist and stopped you for a moment

"can you stay a little longer today? you always run off afterwards and i'd just like to be with you for a few more minutes…"

leo had this pained expression on his face and seeing him like this was breaking your heart

"i can't… i just… really need to…" but you couldn't come up with a good excuse

"you've been like this for weeks now. please, i want my best friend back…" leo's grip on your hand tightened and he slowly pulled you towards him

"we're not friends anymore…" you mumbled softly, not even thinking clearly as you said those words

"what's that supposed to mean?" leo was clearly hurt by your words, his brows narrowing as he looked at you. "am i just the guy you fuck now? why? why can't i be your friend anymore!?"

"because i love you, you idiot–!!" you snapped at leo and pulled your hand away. "but you don't see me like that…"

"you… love me?" leo still had to process what you just said.

"…i do. i said it, are you happy now? can i go now?" you couldn't stand being in the same room as him anymore. you knew you'd surely cry if you had to say another word or look at him again

"no…" leo still seemed to be in a trance-like state, slowly shaking his head. "no, you can't go. you expect me to just let you leave now?"

you were close to crying now, lowering your head and just trying to keep it together, as you pleaded with a shaky voice

"p-please… just let me–"

but before you could finish your sentence, leo had wrapped his arms around you, pulling you into a tight hug

"i've been in love with you for months! i thought if i told you, i'd ruin everything we had. but to think that you felt the same way all this time…"

leo quietly sobbed against your body, before beginning to laugh through his tears

he felt relieved. all this time, he thought his feelings were unrequited. but he was wrong. thank gods, he was wrong!

"you love me too…?" you couldn't hold back your tears either, smiling as you wrapped your arms around leo as well, as he nodded quietly

"i've always loved you…"

[everparanoid]

Wholesome Delinquent Behaviour┃Wriothesley

pairing: f!reader x wriothesley

genre: fluff , smut, light Angst

rating: 18+

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT !

tags: consent is hot, it's all good till the backstory, Canon-Typical Violence, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Sexual Assault, Reader is Not Traveler, Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Angst with a Happy Ending, Squirting, Oral Sex, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex, Cunnilingus, biting kink, inappropriate use of cuffs, spoilers for wriothesley story quest, No use of y/n, Past Murder, Minor Original Character(s), Facials, PWP, Blowjobs, handjobs, everything between reader and wriothesley is consensual

wordcount: 9.5K

synopsis: The first time you met Wriothesley was completely by accident. Not that you remembered it too well; if you did, he wouldn’t confirm it without putting you through a gruelling test. No, the first time you remembered meeting Wriothesley was much later.

You are a prisoner at Meropide who meets and falls in love with Wriothesley over the years of knowing him, and he falls harder.

Originally posted: 30.10.23 on AO3

a/n: I am now reposting my AO3 stuff onto tumblr. If you know me....no, you don't. ;) Also check out my AO3 for more wriothesley fics.

Song Inspiration: ''Safeword'' by TV Girl.

I don't own any of the artwork used.

If everything could come to a stop, just for something she says,

The first time you met Wriothesley was completely by accident. Not that you remembered it too well, and if you did, he wouldn’t confirm it without putting you through a gruelling test. No, the first time you remembered meeting Wriothesley was much later.

You wiped away the sweat coating your brow with the back of your dirtied hand, heaving a deep sigh. The production zone, despite being at the bottom of the ocean, was like what you imagined the hot springs of Inazuma to feel like. You wanted to go there one day—to Inazuma. Although the borders were closed to the outside, the stories you heard of the beautiful Sakura blossoms filled you with the determination to get there. One day, you would. You were sure of it. If you didn’t get struck down by their archon first.

“Inmate, stop slacking! Unless you don’t want to eat tonight,” the guard manning the floor yelled at you.

You rolled your eyes and continued hammering at the heated chunks of metal. Your arms were weak, and your palms were sweaty. It was times like this when you wished you had a cryo vision. You wished for many things. You wished you hadn’t been caught. You wished Fontaine were a better place. You wished that Monsieur Neuvillette felt even an ounce of sympathy for your case, but beggars couldn’t be choosers, and the court of Fontaine was as ‘fair’ as they came. The sky had down poured the night you were sent to Meropide. It was the worst Fontaine had seen in four hundred years. You hadn’t seen the sky properly since you probably never would. People rotted down here. So, all you could rely on was the glistening memory of bitter water, and your dreams.

It was better, you decided, to be punished here than in Sumeru, Inazuma, or even Monstadt. You’d been to Liyue once, but you weren’t there long enough to have a clear judgement of whether their form of justice would be any better. Then again you had been arrested before you got out of Liyue and they handed you straight back to Fontaine to be judged by your home region’s laws.

“Inmate!” The guard yelled snapping you from your thoughts. “You’re wanted at the administration area.”

You dropped your hammer, relieved for the break, and shoved past the guard on your way to the lift.

I thought the whole point was you were living on the edge,

“It’s your lucky day, kid,” another guard said as you meandered leisurely toward them.

This guard you liked.

Meropide inductions didn’t happen often. Most of the time the convict was thrown into their dorm and made to figure it out themselves. In the instances of special cases, you were brought out like a friendly face before the storm. You had no clue why it was you they chose, but you always got paid handsomely in credit coupons, so the particulars didn’t matter to you. You had long since abandoned the idea of fairness down here where the sun doesn’t shine.

“What have we got this time?” you asked cracking your knuckles.

“A kid, your age.”

You paused. It wasn’t often you met people around your age down here. Everyone was either one foot in the grave or an adult.

What could this kid have done to end up down here with the downs and outs? You looked out the large glass window, it stared out into the deep blue Fontainian waters. The sea was dark, so you guessed it must be night. Time was more of an idea, a concept if you will, down in the depths. So, you enjoyed rare moments like these to re-calibrate yourself. It was a shame. You had hoped to at least feel the sun’s rays through the water’s refraction, but it was like you said beggars couldn’t be choosers.

The lift lowered down behind you, and you turned to greet this so-called new inmate. You were greeted by a tall scrawny boy, probably not even a year older than yourself with dull icy eyes and jet-black hair. He was drenched in that same bitter water.

You put on your brightest smile and offered your hand.

“Welcome to hell,” you said.

Not your best work but it caused a small snicker from the boy, and your favourite guard who stayed close by. Strange. They never stayed around. Were they that concerned about your ability to induct a fellow teenage delinquent?

Wriothesley paused. When he was given his verdict by the Monsieur Neuvillette he didn’t expect such a warm welcome. Well, warm as far as being greeted at its entrance.

He didn’t take your hand, instead opting to stare at you with those haunted eyes. You were disheveled at beast and downright filthy at worst. Nothing to sing or dance about. Nothing to fall head over heels in love with either, but you didn’t care. Who wanted to find happiness in misery anyway?

“Hell?” Wriothesley echoed. His voice was steady and stern like he was aged beyond his years; by the lack of life in his eyes, he probably was. “Is it that bad down here?”

You shrugged one shoulder.

“Depends,” you said.

“On what?” he asked, calculating. You could feel his brain working from where you stood. 

Fascinating.

“Depends on how stupid you are,” you looked him up and down, chewing the inside of your cheek absentmindedly. Then, as if a rocket had been shot up your butt, you spun on your heels and gestured for him to follow with a lazy flick of your wrist.

He did so, catching up to you easily with his long legs and just as long stride.

“I didn’t catch your name,” you said as the lift doors closed behind you taking you down to the actual entrance of Meropide not the fancy entrance for visitors too afraid to see the truth. Fontaine was a giant opera, and you lot in Meropide were the hidden stage crew, slaving behind the scenes after losing your spot in the limelight.

“You didn’t ask,” he responded flatly from beside you.

“Clearly that was the hint for you to tell me.”

“It’s Wriothesley,” he said.

It didn’t sound like it was his actual name. Hell, it didn’t sound like a name at all, but who were you to judge? Meropide was a place to start a new; to redeem yourself from your sins, and nearly burn to death in the production zones breaking your back for an administrator who was a tyrant. What was a kid reclaiming their identity going to do to you?

“Nice to meet you, Ricecake.”

“Ricecake?”

“Hey, you give me a name I can’t pronounce you live with the consequences, Ricecake.”

The doors opened and the lift groaned as steam poured out of its pipes and vents. Some unfortunate soul was going to have to clean those later, and you prayed it wasn’t going to be you. You had a burn on the inside of your arm from the last time you cleaned those steaming pipes, it was a jagged ugly thing to look at, so you kept it hidden. Out of sight out of mind, right?

The receptionist sat behind the desk looking as melancholy as everyone else in this place. Wriothesley was going to fit in just fine, you thought, as you remembered that same almost dead look in his eyes.

“You coming?” you asked the boy who stood gawking at you from the lift. “It won’t take you back up you know. I mean you can try. It’s your sentence you’re lengthening.”

“You don’t recognise me?”

“No?” you said. “Should I?”

You tried to recall when you would have seen him before but only drew blanks. You’d seen so many of the same faces and watched so many of them die that telling anyone apart was a pipe dream for you. However, for some reason, you knew that Wriothesley would stick in your head. Not just because the name was so peculiar but because something about him intrigued you. He didn’t seem upset down here yet. No, he looked curious. Curiosity was dangerous. Curiosity got the smartest people in here killed or beaten half to death. No, Wriothesley stuck in your head because he reminded you of hope.

So, when those sounds start to drift down the hall, and stat to freak out the neighbours,

“No coupons, no meal,” the chef said, his voice booming through the place. You wondered over questioning who would be stupid enough to get into conflict with the head chef. He was a burly man, tall with a glassy eye and a wooden spatula the size of a person. The rumour was that he had been a Fatui skirmisher in the overworld. The truth was he was like every other soul in here, beaten and trapped. Upon seeing the familiar woolfy black hair, spiked in random places you inserted yourself into the conversation.

“Sorry about that boss. He’s new,” you said to the chef.

He waved his beefy, greasy hand at you to leave.

“Don’t let your friend come back unless he has coupons. This isn’t charity,” he said with a thick Snezhnayan accent.

“Gotcha,” you said and gave the chef a salute. Hooking your arm under Wriothesleys, you pulled him out of the cue. He nearly tripped over his foot. You dragged him to a secluded table a little away from everyone else, where your singular special box of bread and curry waited for you.

You let him go.

You pointed to the wall where it read, ‘If a man will not work, he shall not eat.’

“Sit,” you commanded pointing to the chair opposite yours.

Wriothesley stared at you like you had grown four heads.

“I have no food,” he said.

“I can see that,” you responded, opening your box and letting the steam waft out. Both of your stomachs groaned at the same time. It had been a while since you had had decent food from the chef, it would be even longer till you had another one; credit coupons weren’t easy to come by and they were better spent on other things like making sure you didn’t get smothered in your sleep.

“How much did that cost?”

“More than you’ll make in your first year,” you said breaking up the bread in your hands.

He gulped dryly.

“How do you know that?”

“You’re a fresher. You’re basically free labour until you have some experience behind you, and some meat on your bones. You’ll be lucky if they pay you a tenth of what you should be getting in your first year. Unless you can fight.”

You let your words settle in the silence between you.

“What did you do?” you ask.

“What?”

“Your crime? What did you do? The guards treat you like a danger to humanity,” you said glancing at the guard who watched you both intently. You could understand them glaring at you but why him?

Wriothesley shifted in his seat, straightening up as if preparing for something.

“I killed my parents,” he said.

He didn’t say anything more than that, he didn’t need to.

You blinked.

“Both of them?”

“Yes.”

You let it sink in for a minute and then nodded.

“I will not be offended if you run, after all this is the entire truth,” he said bluntly. His stomach growled again, and he clutched it willing it to silence itself.

“We’re all crooks and criminals down here,” you said. “But that doesn’t mean we are all bad.”

He lifted an eyebrow at you. You supposed it was because he was expecting you to run. Which meant he obviously didn’t know you. 

“What if I am just a bad guy?”

You shrugged. It was not like you were the dog’s bollocks yourself.

“I have a good enough instinct to know that you aren’t, Ricecake,” you said and pushed your now broken-up bread and curry meal toward him. You were going to regret it. You hadn’t eaten a full-fledged meal in three months, but still, you gave it anyway. “Eat.”

You would have wanted someone to do the same for you when you got here. Friends weren’t made under the sea. His eyes widened and his pale face brightened for the first time since you had met him.

“This is yours,” he said, sounding flabbergasted.

“Now it’s yours,” you said. “Eat up and get some rest. You need to be strong if you want to survive around here.”

You noticed something in his eyes then, a spark. It was dull but it flickered. Your stomach flipped again.

You took a sip of your water before pushing it over to him. He was going to need it more than you.

“Thank you,” he said.

You shook your head.

“There is no need for thanks between us. See it as me looking out for a fellow delinquent.”

“Delinquent?” he said taking his first bite of the bread drowned in curry sauce and rolling his eyes in bliss at the flavours. He began to hoover up the box like it was running away from him.

You remembered when you were like that with every small crumb of bread you got when you first got here. Your stomach flipped. What kind of hell had Wriothesley come from?

“Slow down buddy meals like this don’t come around every day,” you said. “Take it slow, no one can kick you out of here to work anyway. Seems they’re too afraid of us.”

He did as you said. Licking off his fingers, he looked around the floor at the glaring stationed guards and occasional inmates. He faced you his eyes glimmered with light like a shooting golden star flying across an icy sky.

“So, how do I get them to trust me?” he said leaning in.

 You leaned back in your seat, your arms crossed and a smile on your face. You were sure now, that feeling in your stomach was hope.

remember that it's good, clean fun,

“Happy Birthday!” you grinned, setting down a box you had smuggled up from the cafeteria into his room. He raised a brow up at you. It was the 23rd of November, the day he’d decided was his birthday; the same day he was sentenced to Meropide.

“Ah, thank you,” he said politely. His stomach growled at the delicious aroma coming off the box revealing, despite his calm thanks, his eager anticipation for your yearly gift.

Guilt riddled him, as he dropped the gauntlet he had been upgrading, next to the cashflow machine he had found and tinkered back to use. He had wanted to pay you back. Every year, on the day he arrived you came with a box and another ten pieces of meshing gear for his tinkering, and as much as he secretly loved it, he felt like he wasn’t doing enough to pay you back.

It had been six years and yet he hadn’t gotten you a single thing he considered worth the amount of your kindness. Aside from a necklace with a piece of meshing gear that he had forged into a Cerberus insignia. You wore it everywhere. You wore it then, the rustic insignia rested on your chest. He had already put aside the pieces for a matching bracelet, a little trinket from him to you. A subtle hint to show that you were his, even if he hadn’t said it yet.

He unravelled the box and two tea bags fell out of the wrapping.

You picked them up and shook them before him.

“Tea for the occasion,” you said.

He smiled and closed his eyes.

“I fear, you know me too well.”

He shook his head.

“I don’t know your favourite colour,” you said, brewing the tea in the teapot he kept on the wonky table.

“I don’t have one.”

Meaning he couldn’t choose one without them all tying to you. Maybe it was the colour of your hair, or eyes, or even the colour of your lips, he’d stare at those often. Too often lately. He was staring now. He looked away.

“Well, I guess I do know everything about you,” you chirped.

He thanked you as you handed him a cup of tea with two sugars just as he liked it. You knew these things. It wasn’t like you had spoken about them.  No, you had been around him so much in the last few years that these things came naturally to you. It was like breathing. You sat beside him on the ground. Your tea warmed your hands.

“What else does the birthday boy want on his birthday?”

He fought back the blush though he was sure the colour still painted his skin.

“Nothing.”

“Come on! There has got to be something?”

Wriothesley shook his head and opened the box.

“Okay then if you insist. Share this box with me?”

“But it’s yours.”

“And I want to share it with you. Are you really going to deny me on my birthday? Remember, you are the one who asked what I want.”

You rolled your eyes.

“Fine.”

He broke up the bread inside one of the compartments in the box, the same way he'd watched you do it countless times. You reached in and dipped a large unbroken piece of bread into the soup before bringing it up to his lips. He stared at your hand.

“Open up. Come on, birthday boy, if we are sharing then you’ve got to have the first bite,” you said.

When it became apparent that you weren’t going to give up any time soon, he opened his mouth enough for you to slip the bread between his teeth. Both of you without the other's knowledge held your breath when he bit down, and his lips brushed the tips of your fingers.

A shiver ran through your body, one you knew would follow you to bed and into your filthiest dreams.

He pulled back and quickly cleared his throat, as he chewed without tasting.

“It’s delicious,” he said.

“It is,” you choked out, though you hadn’t tried it yet.

He didn’t bother to correct you, too lost trying to calm the riot in his chest. When he felt like he had better control of the battle in his chest he picked up a piece of bread, dipped it into the curry sauce and held it toward you. You blinked.

“You should try some too. You know since we are sharing and all.”

You took a bite from the bread letting the flavours wash over you. They too were lost to the way you noticed his eyes watching your lips enclose around the bread. You nodded and covered your mouth as you chewed.

“It is good,” you agreed, with a mouth full of mush.

He nodded and looked away from you, scooping up another piece of bread and popping it into his mouth. You would have thought he was unaffected until you saw his ears were deep shade of crimson.

Just wholesome delinquent behaviour,

“What’s this about?” You asked as he guided you with his large cold, calloused hands over your eyes. You envied his cryo vision, and his ability to stay cool down in that heat pit. He hid it well, but you knew he had one. You’d seen it one day by accident and not breathed a word about it since. Vision holders were targets down here and the last thing you wanted was to put him in any more danger.

“Patience. Don’t you know all good things come to those who know how to wait,” he said.

 He had dragged you out of the production zone after finishing his work and disappeared off like he usually did only to reappear an hour later with that confident stride he had. You barely ever saw him these days, but when you did it would be like he was still the fresh-faced delinquent but older. You were both older. He guided you into a seat and then removed his hands. You missed the cool touch on your skin. It took a second for your eyes to adjust to the poor lighting.

“What is this?” you asked, staring at the giant box in front of you.

You looked up at Wriothesley. It had been twelve years since he came to the fortress and the once soft baby face was gone, lost to the grit of Meropide. Wriothesley commanded the trust and respect of everyone around him much to the administrator’s dismay. When you were working away in the production zone, to he would be off swaying the inmates and the guards, working his natural charisma on those around him.

“What happened?” You asked reaching up and grazing his split lip with your finger. He caught your wrist and dipped his head out of the way flashing you a half smile. He had grown even taller over the years and now you had to reach up to touch him. He glanced at the ring on your finger, and you snatched your hand away, your face flushed with embarrassment.

“I won some more coupons,” he said.

In reality, he had scrapped up the coupons that he’d hidden away in the case of a rainy day and used them to buy you the meal. A week earlier he had lost all his accumulated credit coupons in a single night to the Fortress’s administrator.

“You’re going to get yourself killed.”

“Is that so?” he sassed. “I suppose I should write a will.”

Your expression darkened.

“Kidding, of course,” he said.

“Of course.”

“I went to Sigewinne,” he assured you. “She said I would be fine as long I rested.”

“Good,” you said.

You turned back to the box.

Metal screeched on the floor as Wriothesley pulled his chair closer directly across from you. The place was unusually empty—only a few guards manned the area, but no other inmates could be spotted on the floor.

“So, what is this?” You could smell the faint fragrance of something familiar. Something you hadn’t smelt in years.

“Open it,” he said and gestured with his chin to the box.

You gave him a cautious look and lifted the lid. Inside sat four rolls of bread and two bowls worth of curry. Your heart fluttered. When you looked up at him, he was already watching you; his icy eyes shining like stars. You didn’t want to think anything of it… to hope. Hope was stolen from you. Hope led to you becoming trapped in a loveless engagement with one of the crooked guards.

“You really did it?” you said and ached a little inside.

This was supposed to be a happy moment but all you wanted to do was weep bitter water.

He leaned back in his chair and crossed his toned scarred arms over his chest. He looked so broad and solid; all that boxing had morphed his physique into something godly.  “I told you I would pay you back.”

“That was twelve years ago, and this is more than triple what I gave you.”

“I added the interest,” he said.

“Why now?”

He looked down at your ringed finger again and frowned. His brows drew together in the way they did when he was annoyed or thinking more than he was going to let you in on.

“I’m going to fight the administrator,” he said bluntly.

You paused mid-snap of your bread.

“You’re going to fight the administrator?” you repeated, unsure of whether you heard him correctly. “Your sentence is up. Why would you do that? You’re going to die.”

He shrugged.

“I refuse to watch people suffer under the crooked ruling of a tyrant,” he said and eyed your ring again. Your finger felt like it was on fire; you dipped a bit of bread in the curry and handed it to him. He waved it away.

“Why are you like this?” you said, and dropping the piece of bread into the curry, you watched it drown and disappear into the thick liquid. “Is it not enough that you’ll be free?”

You blinked back tears, your hands clenched on your thighs. You had watched nearly all of his fights and every single time your heart was in your throat. Every time he bled, every time he shook hands with his opponent; every time the ringleader held up his beaten-up arm to declare his victory. You hated it. You hated all of it.

He said your name with a tenderness he reserved only for you. A tenderness you didn’t want to hear. A tenderness you blocked out with everything in your soul.

“Is it so strange that I would want to fight for those whom I promised a better life out of genuine care?”

“Why did you do that?” you yelled, your voice came out harsher than you intended but it was too late to take it back. That was the thing about words, they could never be unspoken. He cleared his throat.

“As I recall, I didn’t come here to live under the thumb of another driver, and I thought you would understand that more than anyone else, but I see now that I was wrong and clearly you have been broken down after all.”

You bit down hard on your lips, and your jaw clenched so tight that you were sure you would crunch a tooth.

“Ric—Wriothesley. That’s not fair,” you whispered.

“Indeed, it’s not but it’s the truth.” He glanced away for a second. “Look, I am in love with you, and I have been for the last twelve years. I can’t simply watch you be with someone you hate just to get a sentence lowered that you still won’t tell me about. I could have helped you. I am helping you. I’m helping everyone,” he pushed his chair back and stood.

“…What?”

“I’m fighting tomorrow. Show up, if you have some time, of course; or don’t, but I’ll be looking out for you. You can find me in my dorm before then.”

You fought back the urge to chase after him, to slap him, to kiss him, to hold his hand, to hold him so tightly and cry the way you haven’t been able to since the day you were convicted. Instead, you didn’t. You sat in silence and ate the bread and curry watching your heart walk away from you.

Oh, remember your safe word,

His dorm room was across from yours. It was sparse like everything else in the underwater fortress. A pillow and scatty blanket lay atop a barely functioning mattress in a corner. Wriothesley sat at the small table barely standing on its uneven legs. A tiny pot brewed a herbal smelling tea, and two teacups sat in front of him.

“You came,” he said barely above a whisper. His confidence was a quiet one.

“You love me.”

“Would you like some tea?” he asked, gesticulating to the second cup in front of the spare chair.

You had been in here countless times; shared many cups of tea with him; helped pierce his ears and manage his wounds; watched him shadowbox the air as you sat crossed-legged on his bed; you had wondered what life would be like if Meropide was a better place; you had wondered if the people you left behind missed you as you laid next to each other on his floor staring at the giant fan on the ceiling. Not that either of you had anyone but each other. Wriothesley had said his siblings were strangers to him, and he was probably a ghost they would never want to see again. An unfortunate reminder of something they’d all rather forget, but he never forgot. He refused to. He lived his truth.

 Every time he told you about his past you worried about how his view would change if you if knew your truth. However, Wriothesley never pressed too hard, never touched buttons he knew you didn’t want to be touched. Instead, he watched and observed, and took in all that you were willing to give him, just to see a glimmer behind the cracks of your mask.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” you asked.

“Please.” He gestured to the chair. “Sit.” he filled your cup.

You took your seat and shifted around, unable to find comfort despite it being your usual chair. Feelings always made things feel different—uncomfortable. You knew this. Yet you still felt the discomfort, nonetheless.

“How did you know I would come?”

“I didn’t but I hoped and thankfully you didn’t disappoint, but you never do,” he said, filling his cup.

“No need to be modest with me, Wriothesley.”

“I am anything but modest with you,” he said your name softly.

You gulped. Wriothesley wasn’t one to mince his words, though tact was his favourite game.

“You must have heard about it already?” you brought the teacup to your lips taking a sip of the liquid. Credit coupons bought anything in this fortress, even the finest tea. “It’s all people can talk about when it comes to me.”

His expression darkened.

It was only a matter of time.

“You do, and yet you still love me?” you asked.

“I recall someone once telling me that we all are crooks and criminals down here but that didn’t mean we were all bad,” he recounted the words you had said to him when he arrived nearly verbatim. He leaned onto the table, and it shook on its uneven legs from the added weight. “Besides, I like hearing stories from their source.”

“Then ask.”

“What got you incarcerated?”

You took a deep breath. What did you have to lose? He had heard worse rumours.

For some reason, you cared about what he thought of you. You knew that feelings were fickle things, and yet, you cared that he loved you. You loved him too.

“Mariticide,” you said cooly, breaking the ice.

“But you were—“

“A child, I know.”

“I was illegally married off when I was eight years old to a man, twenty years my senior.”

Wriothesley remained neutral, you took it as your sign to keep going.

“He didn’t do anything to me until my twelfth birthday and then it started. At first, it was just touching and then it got worse. He was an influential Fontaine nobleman. One of the maids tried to help me report him but it didn’t work. So, one night when he came to my room, I had hidden a butter knife under my pillow. I castrated him and ran away, fleeing Fontaine. I wandered through Sumeru and then to Monstadt but even the city of freedom couldn’t protect me. So, I kept moving. It was when I was on my way through Liyue that the authorities caught up to me. The maid who had tried to help me was sleeping with the man and hence reported me. The hearing was quick, and I was put away fast. No one wanted to consider the implications of a thirteen-year-old being married to a thirty-three-year-old whom they all dined with. I heard he died a few years ago but my sentence keeps getting extended every time it gets close to the date of my term. I suspect it’s the maid. I was supposed to be here for eight years and well, I am still here. That’s why I must marry that Guard.” You took a long sip from your tea and then placed the cup down. “I’m damaged goods,” you said.

Wriothesley remained silent. He looked to be thinking of something and you had never seen his expression so dark.

“You’re not damaged,” he said, “and he’s lucky he lived after that.”

You smiled. It was a bitter smile; one filled with more exhaustion than remorse.

“Luck favours the rich.”

“If a man will not work, he shall not eat,” Wriothesley said, reciting the famous lines that painted the walls of Meropide.

You raised your teacup at him before taking another sip.

“Jokes aside, thank you for telling me,” he said.

He stood up and you feared he was going to ask you to leave. You wouldn’t be sad, at least that’s what you tried to convince yourself, but the sinking feeling came all the same.

He offered you his hand and you stared at it. Your brows furrowed before you hesitantly took it. He pulled you up to your feet. His cold hand intertwined with yours.

“Can I hug you?” he asked.

He’d never asked this before. Did you look like you needed a hug? Because you wanted one.

“Please,” you choked out.

You would never have described Wriothesley as warm, but when he held you in his arms and you heard his heart racing you couldn’t deny that he was undoubtedly warm. A single tear rolled down your cheek. Then another, and another, and another until you were sobbing into his shabby inmate shirt.

“It’s okay,” he said softly. “I know.”

You’d been holding onto these feelings for so long. Letting them fester inside you like a sickness. No one had ever stopped to hear your side of the story and you thought you were okay with that. You thought if they stayed away from you then you could pretend to be like every other inmate brought in for stealing a slice of cake meant for Lady Furina. You thought you could hide your truth, but behind every fake smile, you wore it on yourself like a body of armor.

His shirt crumpled in your hands. He swayed from side to side and traced tiny circles on your back with his thumb.

“You did what you had to do. If he was alive, I’d kill him,” he said.

You wiped your eyes and looked up at him. “Please don’t fight tomorrow.”

He brought a hand up to your cheek and brushed away your tears. He decided then that he hated your tears, and he would do anything to see to it that you didn’t feel that way again.

 However, he hated the idea of you living with this pain more. He hated seeing that diamond on the finger where his should be. He hated it even more that you knew that he hated it before he had admitted his feelings for you. If his resolve hadn’t been solidified before now it would be completely. He would free you, and if you decided you wanted to be with him once you sprouted your wings, then he would accept you with open arms. He wouldn’t put you in another cage. He’d hate to see your heart break because to him you were his heart.

Wriothesley’s attention dropped to your lips; they were wet with your tears. He leaned down and brushed his lips to the corner feeling your sadness.

You turned your head at the last moment and captured his lips.

He froze.

You gripped his shirt tighter and reached up on the tips of your toes pressing your mouth further into his; willing him to reciprocate. Your first kiss with Wriothesley tasted like bitter water. It was soft and desperate. It knew what it was without the need for words or discussion.

His chest heaved as he pulled away.

“Don’t leave me,” you whispered.

“I won’t…” 

He wouldn’t—at least not tonight. Although, he didn’t know whether it was day or night outside of Meropide. The underworld was a different world entirely. It never truly slept. It didn’t adhere to the rules of the sun or the moon. It was filled with endless possibilities. Possibilities that could alter both of your existences and if he couldn’t free you above ground, he knew sure as hell would free you below. Although, one night of keeping you safe in his arms couldn’t hurt.

You sat down on his mattress. You looked so much smaller than he remembered, then again it had been twelve years.

He recalled your soot-covered face, and dull eyes when you had greeted him, the day he arrived at Meropide. The day he had begun his new life; his birthday. Although the circumstances weren’t great, he knew from the moment you said, ‘Welcome to hell,’ that he would love you.

He sat beside you.

“Tell me what you want?” he said, earnestly.

You leaned into him.

“I want you to be yours.”

It was true. You wanted him. Engagement be damned. Even if it was just one night, you wanted something for you. Maybe it was selfish. Maybe it was asking for too much, but you didn’t care. You had spent too long denying yourself the things you want to maintain a peace no one else upheld.

Wriothesley gripped your wrist and groaned what sounded like your name, but you couldn’t be too sure.

“Give me a word,” he said.

“What?”

“I don’t want to hurt you,” he began.

“I am not fragile.”

Though in front of him, you were.

“I know you are not. Give me a word so I know to stop if it gets too much for you.” He tucked your hair behind your ear and rested his forehead against yours.

“Time,” you breathed.

That’s what you wanted—time. Time to love him, time to live, time to take back all the things you regretted and start again. Time to meet him before you both became who you were.

“Okay,” he said, leaving a kiss behind your ear. “Tonight, you’re mine.”

Only tonight. He reminded himself.

He could promise you that for certain. He couldn’t promise tomorrow, not because he was a pessimist but because he knew tomorrow was never certain. He had you now. He would make sure he had you forever but now would have to be enough. He would make it enough.

“Yours. Completely,” you said.

Another tear rolled down your cheek.

He pulled off his shirt. 

Your mouth merged with his, your tongue slipping into his open mouth tangling, exploring searching. He cupped your face in his hands, his eyes closing despite the desire to see every expression on your face.

You broke the kiss and leaned back pulling off your shirt. His eyes dropped to your breasts.

“Just for me,” he whispered, taking them into his hands and kneading them slowly.

He traced kisses down your neck, wishing to mark you, to lay his claim to you. He wouldn’t however, not yet…not tonight.

You fiddled with the string to his bottoms, untangling it and reaching in to feel his erection. He groaned against your neck unafraid to let you know how good it felt. You grasped his cock. It was thick, thicker than you expected, and so hard.  You needed both hands to grip him properly.

“Take off that fucking ring,” he hissed upon feeling it on his skin. You did, taking off the ring and dropping it with your shirt on the floor. You gripped his cock again, your hands feeling so much lighter without the mental weight of the ring.

“Harder,” he growled as you stroked him.

You tightened your grip watching as the crease between his brows grew. He rolled his hips into your hand.

“Oh, that’s it,” he panted.

You bit your lip and focused on the reddened tip.

Your thumb brushed the crown wiping away the drops of precum. He jolted, his jaw unhinging, your name falling from his lips like a prayer. You froze and released his cock. He opened his eyes, worried, only to see you on your knees between his legs.

He opened his legs wider and slid closer to the edge of the bed. He brushed your hair out of your face and gripped it in his hand as he used the other to keep him up on the bed.

“Go on,” he said. “Show me how much you want me.”

You didn’t need to be told twice.

Gripping, his cock you gave the tip a lick listening to his pleased grunts. Slowly you took him into your mouth, enjoying the sensation of his hand gripping your hair.

“Good girl, taking me so well.”

You were soaked just from listening to his praise. You slipped a hand into your underwear and began rubbing your clit.

His breath quickened, and his mouth felt incredibly dry from his inability to close it. His hips jerked, as you took him deeper. He heard you gag as he felt your throat quiver around his cock. He pulled out, letting you catch your breath before he thrust back into your throat. Your eyes rolled and drove a finger into yourself.

You bobbed your head keeping up with the brutal pace he was setting. You loved hearing his grunts and groans; you loved feeling his cock twitch and his pace stagger as he got closer. Despite how hard it was, you looked up at him. His mouth was agape, his eyes barely open. You released him just when you knew he was going to cum.

Wriothesley opened his eyes to see you waiting, mouth open, your mouth and chin dripping with saliva. You looked glorious.

“You’re stunning,” he breathed and released your hair, wrapping his hand around his cock and pumping it until the first spray of cum splattered your lips. “So perfect, with such a pretty mouth.”

You licked your lips and opened your mouth again, leaning closer till the tip rested against your tongue.

Wriothesley felt like he was in a dream or heaven or both.

“Swallow it all,” he panted as he pumped the rest onto your tongue.

You did so, licking your lips and opening your mouth to prove it.

At the sight of your flushed face, your blown lust-filled eyes, and your hand deep in your pants, he found himself hardening again. He had promised tonight, and tonight he was going to have. If he died tomorrow, he’d die a happy man.

“Get on the bed right now, naked and on your back,” he ordered.

You shimmied off your work pants and your underwear, laying on the bed under his hungry gaze. He stood and stripped the rest of his clothes away before joining you on the bed. It was barely big enough for both of you, but he was going to make it work. He kneeled before your closed legs.

“How are you?” he asked.

“Good.”

“Just good?” he teased, a smirk on his lips.

“Mhm just good,” you responded, reciprocating the expression.

“Oh, we’ll have to fix that,” he said, and scooping under your thighs, he opened your legs and pulled you closer to him.

You giggled at the speed at which he had your legs wrapped around his waist and his hard cock pressing against your soaked folds. He caged you between his arms as he rolled his hips slowly.

“I love you,” he said, staring into your eyes.

“I love you too,” you responded.

“I know.”

He kissed you with everything in his soul. At some point, he knew you loved him even if you hadn’t said it till just now. He knew it like how he knew the back of his hand but hearing it made it even better. It made it real.

He rubbed the head of his cock against your soaked hole, pushing in the tip just enough to feel you quiver before pulling out and running it over your pussy again.

“If I fuck you, you’re mine. No one touches what is mine. Do you understand?” He asked

Your heart stuttered.

“I understand.”

“After all, no one will be able to fuck you the way I can. Once I’m inside you unless you tell me otherwise, I’m not stopping until we both see stars,” he said, making sure he looked straight into your eyes as he did.

This wasn’t a game for him, he meant every single word and you knew it.

“Wriothesley, there will never be anyone like you.”

He groaned and slid in. Your back arched at the sheer size of his cock stretching you beyond your limits. You closed your eyes and clenched your jaw, grabbing onto the sheets for support.

“Breathe, relax,” he whispered. “Hold onto me.”

He continued to slowly push in bringing his knees closer giving him the right angle to get in as deep as possible. He gasped upon seeing himself completely disappear inside you. You tightened your legs around his waist, and dragged him down gripping his back, locking you into a mating press.

He waited till the need for release subsided before he began to move. The shitty bedframe, not built for the purpose it was being used for, squeaked, and hit against the wall. The sound of skin slapping against skin, and stifled cries joined the air disturbing whatever sorry soul had the misfortune of being on the other side of the wall. Neither of you cared at that moment. Within minutes you had already come twice.

Your chest heaved, and Wriothesley cupped them leaving bites all over your breasts, he avoided any place people would be able to see but needed to mark you somewhere. He moved back up to your ear and nibbled on the lobe.

“Show me how you touch yourself,” he said quietly.

You slipped a hand between your rocking bodies and began to rub your clit. Wriothesley leaned back till he was kneeling. Gripping your waist, he continued to fuck you watching with hawk-like focus the way your fingers played with your clit. It was like you were under display, laid out for him to observe and study, and you were.

“So, that’s how you like it?” he said, feeling your walls clench around him for the third time that night.

You whimpered in response, your words had long since failed you. You began to slow as your hand grew tired and your body became closer to a collection of jolting nerves than functioning limbs.

“It’s okay, I’ve got you. You can give me two more, right?” he said.

You moaned as he replaced your hand continuing to rub your clit just as vigorously as you had started.

“Wriothesley,” you cried,

“Ssh, you’ve got this. Let go. Be a good girl and give me two more,” he urged you on.

You bit your lip and threw your head back letting out another cry which he swallowed eagerly. Your walls clenched again, and your body began to show the signs of a squirt. You sprayed, your legs shaking, your toes curling.

“Shit, you’re incredible. One more,” he captured your lips. “You’ve done so good. Just give me one more, my love,” he said against them.

One more and he would be satisfied. One more and he could guarantee that he would have enough resolve to follow through with his plans. Just one more.

You shivered again and bit down on his bottom lip as your final climax washed over you barely a minute later. He growled at the pain, tugging his lip from your mouth, and kissing you properly.

“Well done,” he said but continued thrusting at the same brutal pace. “I’m nearly there.”

You used what little strength you had to keep him inside. He said your name for what was the thousandth time that night.

“Not tonight,” he panted, smiling against your lips. “Trust me, I want to. I do, but not tonight.”

He pulled out and kissed you softly, stroking himself until his release painted your stomach. He kissed your forehead and rolled off you to not squash you under his weight.

You turned onto your side and cuddled into him. He wrapped his arms around you and entangled your limbs. You faced each other on the damp sheets.

It felt like time stopped. Everything melted away, you didn’t know whether it had been forty or four hours, and you didn’t care. You felt sticky and wet, the only thing cooling you down was the natural coolness of his skin on yours. Sleep drifted over you like a blanket not soon after. You tried to fight it off, wishing to talk to him longer; to try and convince him against fighting the administrator; to find a way with you because as long as you had each other you knew everything would be okay…

“Everything is going to be okay,” he said quietly as if he had read your mind, sending you off to sleep. “It’s all going to be okay.”

When you woke the next morning, well when the sound of the guards woke you from your sex-induced coma, Wriothesley was gone.

Remember your safeword.

You woke to cool scarred arms wrapped securely around your waist. Wriothesley’s head rested on your breasts. Flecks of grey mixed seamlessly into the stream of black hair reminded you that you were no longer in the past. You shifted slightly to free an arm. He grumbled something and nuzzled his head further into your breasts, securing his arms tighter around you as if afraid you were going to disappear. It was a habit he had developed over the years, an incessant need to hold onto you when he slept. You didn’t mind it too much, you liked being cold when you went to bed; it helped you sleep better.

“Wriothesley,” you whispered and ran a hand through his hair. You laid a peck on his forehead, and he stirred.

“Is it morning already?” he grumbled, though his eyes remained closed.

He had been awake for as long as you had been lost in your thoughts, silently listening to the sound of your pounding heart. He couldn’t help but wonder what thoughts ailed you on nights like these.

You admired the thick dark lashes casting shadows over his face.

“No, I just can’t sleep,” you said.

You knew his skin like the back of your hand. The scar under his eye, the scar on his neck that led down to the center of his breastplate and stopped on his sternum. The ones wrapped around his arms, the ones that scattered his waist and stomach, the ones on his thighs; even the small faint one on his calf from when he fell over as a kid. He told you that was when he knew his skin was going to be littered with scars. Wriothesley scarred easily and he scarred badly. However, despite their jagged appearances, none of them were too hideous for you to bear. You didn’t like them, but you loved Wriothesley, and as they were as a part of him as any other part of him, you learnt to love them too. They represented how many battles he had won. They represented every promise kept.

You lifted his head up and kissed the scar on his face, the one right under his eye.

You could feel his hardened cock pressing against your thigh. His pupils were blown when he finally opened his eyes.

He loved you so much it hurt. Yes, physically but also mentally. He loved how you accepted him, he loved how you chose him, and he loved how you chose you too. Most of all he loved how you looked when you teased him, so raw, so ripe, so ready to dismantle you completely.

“Oh, I can think of ways to help with that,” he murmured.

“I don’t know if I have the stamina, your grace,” you teased.

He let out a guttural noise.

He nibbled and sucked on your nipple, messaging your other breast in his cold, rough hands. Your breath staggered as you gave in to his touch. The sound went straight to his cock. He had fucked you into the sheets earlier that night, till you were blubbering and couldn’t remember your own name. Still, it wasn’t enough. It was never enough; he would never get enough of you. Despite your fear that one day he would disappear, he never would. It was Wriothesley who worried that one day you would grow tired of his incessant need to be near you; to have you, to consume you. So, he savoured every squirm, every shiver, every breathy gasp of his name that you would spare him, terrified that they’d be his last.

“Ah, well it’s a good thing that I have enough stamina for the both of us,” he said switching his attention from one boob to the other. The earlier hickeys had already darkened on your skin. “Think you can cum again?”

He would kiss each one later wishing for them to last forever.

“You’re insatiable,” you blushed.

“Why wouldn’t I be? I have my favourite meal right where I want her,” he said and began to trail his tongue down your stomach towards your sensitive clit. He wanted you on his tongue, in his senses… everywhere.

“Do you remember your safeword?” he asked. It was what he always did before you both did anything sexual beyond intimate fondling and brisk kisses.

“Time,” you said.

“Good girl.” He half grinned.

He continued teasing your clit with the tip of his tongue, absorbing every twitch and shake of your body.

“Wriothesley,” you spluttered. “I need you.”

“You’ve got me,” he said.

He slipped his tongue into you, circling, lapping, like a man possessed he devoured you. His nose brushed against your skin. It was knowing his eyes were on you the entire time that made everything feel ten times more stimulating. You let out a quiet gasp and gripped his hair.

“You’re so good for me.” He gave you a broad lick. “So perfect.”

He replaced his tongue with his fingers, curling them inside you and scissoring them open to stretch you out not that you needed much with how well he had fucked you before. Still, it was the thought of giving you pleasure that spurred him on.

“Wriothesley,” you said.

He hummed to show you he was listening, the vibration made you quiver.

“I want your cuffs.”

He paused and pulled away, perking up. He secretly loved it when you surprised him.

“Oh? What for?”

You smiled and gestured for his cuffs. He scrambled off the queen-sized bed and walked butt naked to where he left his cuffs. You admired his ass from the bed. He had a great ass, he knew it too, it was why he wore his jacket around Meropide. His nickname Ricecake had gotten around the Fortress years ago and whilst it was okay when he was a convict, he didn’t need that level of familiarity as the Duke. Besides, you were the only one he wanted observing his ass.

He climbed back onto the bed and handed them to you, the spiked metal looked so good in your hands. His eyes flickered to the rings on your ring finger—his rings. The ones he gave you when he officially proposed.

He never ended up fighting that day due to the administrator’s sudden disappearance.

He recalled how you had run around Meropide searching for him, your hair a mess, the beginnings of one of the love bites he had left dauntingly close to view, poking out of one of his shirts that you had thrown on instead of your own. He recalled how you had slammed open the door to the administrator’s office, breathless, beautiful, with your eyes full of tears to him sitting behind the desk organising the abandoned files. He recalled how he claimed you again there, in that office over and over and over again. The other man’s ring was long gone somewhere down the many drains of Meropide, and your sentence cleared not long after. There were perks to becoming the administrator of the fortress of Meropide. Perks that had the maid of that man who hurt you disappear to a place only known by Celestia, the Archons, Navia, and Wriothesley. Neuvillette knew too but unless there was a trial, he would keep his nose out of it.

You knelt on the bed swinging the cuffs on your fingers.

“Where have you gone?” you cooed bringing him back to reality.

“Mm, nowhere, just admiring the view,” he said coolly.

You shook your head and pushed him to lay back against the pillows.

“You’re working too hard, your grace. I can fix that,” you said and straddled him.

Reaching above him, you cuffed his arms to the bed frame.

He cocked a brow and playfully tugged against the restraints.

“Ah, I hope so,” he said.

You kissed the corner of his mouth, smirking.

His cock twitched at the memory of your first time together.

“Remember the safeword?” you asked.

Seeing you sat on him, your eyes filled with life, he couldn’t care less that you didn’t remember your past before Meropide. He didn’t care that you didn’t recall how he was the boy you gave bread to once when you spotted him wandering away from his home. How you had given him, a complete stranger what looked like your last piece of food because he was sitting alone. He didn’t care if all you remembered was your last two and a half decades together… because you were here now with him. You chose him just as he chose you.

“Time," he responded.

masterlist

Reblogs w/ tags and comments are very much appreciated! If you enjoyed this, please feel free to consider dropping a follow as well! <3

Also, if you like my writing and wish to support me, please consider buying me a coffee via Ko-fi!

[ppumeonae-bigvibe]

cherry on top

↖ navigation: seventeen masterlist || main masterlist

pairing: bf! seventeen ot13 x gn! reader

↬ tags: established relationship? yes!, kissing mentioned (hehe!), quite wholesome, my list my rules!, reader uses lipsticks (not implied, but a regular user of lipsticks/ tints/ gloss)

summary: seventeen buying reader lipstick!

𐙚 those who know which color suits you, even your favorite types 𐙚

ᯓ★ seungcheol, jeonghan, mingyu, myungho

the sister-havers are understandable: they have sisters for siblings so they would know a thing or two (before you jump at me, yes i do know vernon and seungkwan have sisters so hear me out); and whereas for minghao? i'm so sure my man is born a fashionista so makeup would be easy for him; and for seungcheol i think that clip of him explaining the different perfumes/ cologne is enough for me to put him here

you don't have to tell them: they would be able to pick a similar or the exact shade right off the bat just by looking at your lips; call it unexplained hidden knack or that special eye for choosing makeup products

purposely (sneakily) grabs you by the chin to kiss you full on the lips just to see how good the product works; love love loves to watch you put on makeup and would gaze at you as you went about your business

bonus if they know color theory, or suggest different shades they think might look good on you (and i'm certain it will)

"you like it?" you swiped a sheen layer of gloss on your lips, before turning to your smitten boyfriend for approval. he does a once over, smile widening at the sight of you. he pulls you in by the waist lovingly, "i like that very much. now, give me a kiss!"

"no! you're gonna ruin it!" he rolls his eyes, "i'll buy you another." he knows you couldn't resist, so before you open your mouth to retort, he yanks you towards him and captures your lips. "i'll buy you as many as you want, so long you keep letting me do this."

----

𐙚 those who has some clue and tries to buy something you like 𐙚

ᯓ★ joshua, soonyoung, jihoon, vernon, seungkwan

i know vernon has a younger sister and kwanie has sisters, but hear me out: i don't think they are that interested in makeup products at all hence they are here; for joshua because he is such a gentleman he would take pictures of your lipsticks to know which ones to get, similar for hosh and wooz i think they would make sure you're physically with them so they don't get the wrong ones

because they aren't sure of the exact type/ shade/ tint, he would make the effort to know your favorite brands and colors at least so that he could go get them when he goes out shopping for your gifts <3 !! he wants to surprise you too, and might throw in other skincare products they are more confident in getting

call it algorithm influencing, but he sometimes sees the targeted ads on your phone and makes a mental note to ask you about it

very much prefers you in your natural state, but loves it when you doll up for them/ yourself because you are beautiful in their eyes (have you seen them barefaced wts!!)

"you like this one?" he leans over, his taller frame standing out painfully in the makeup section. you nod your head, "yeah? looks good doesn't it?" you swatch another color on the back of his hands and he observes closely, "this one has sparkles in it, but it's a lot more lighter than the other other one."

"i can't decide which one to get though." you frowned the back of his hands are littered with various shades, matching yours. he shakes his head, sporting a silly grin, "it's okay! we can browse longer. let's get something you really like."

----

𐙚 those who don't know, but buys something anyways 𐙚:

ᯓ★ junhwi, wonwoo, seokmin, chan

dedicated to the brother-havers and single children: i feel that these bunch of people are the group of people who don't know much about makeup and are perhaps less interested in it as you are; might even be clueless about it

they seem like the type to ask many questions about why some products are matte or glossy or why are they so liquid-y or why has there got to be many shades (in the sweetest and non-annoying way)

very green forest behavior when they know not to mess with your makeup products and to keep them stored away neatly

call it algorithm influencing, but when he spots some makeup brand promoting items, he'd come and ask for your opinion (so that he could take you out and buy it for you uwu)

unexpectedly i think somewhat related to makeup, wonwoo or dino feels like the type to enjoy doing facials with you

"i'm not sure if you like this, but i overheard you telling your friends you were running out. thought this might make your day." his heart was beating out of his chest, but he plays it cool by gifting you a small bag. you excitedly take it from him, and he relishes in the way your eyes practically light up. looks like he bought the right one.

"oh baby, thank you!" you hug him tight and he reciprocates the gesture, an affectionate beam all over his face. "it's the one i told you about! no way! you got it!" he exhales dramatically, "anything for you my love."

@ppumeonae-bigvibe 's work ; likes and reblogs are appreciated <3

[strayrumia]

Unfamiliarity (oneshot)

felix x fem!reader

Synopsis: After her break-up from her long-term relationship, [Y/n] is left wondering if she was deserving of love and gentleness. Fortunately for her, she has a best friend who's been supporting her since the beginning. Not only that, but he's also more than happy to show her she deserves the love she longed for. -or- [Y/n] is left touch-deprived and doubting that she's deserving of anything wholesome after having left a relationship that left her with nothing but heartbreak, trauma, and neglect. Her best friend proves her wrong.

Genre(s): fluffy ending, implied best friends to lovers (can be taken platonically), angst Other tags: non!idol au, (wholesome) physical touch Content/Trigger Warning(s): mentions of SA (s*xual ab*se) and emotional ab*se from past relationship, very heavy mentions of insecurity and feeling worth is based off s*x, mentions of food

[A/N]: This is more of a ventfic and something that I wanted to just let out. It might not be the best fic I've written as it has a VERY open ending/lacks a proper ending. I also wrote this late at night, very head-empty. I hope if you do read it, you'll feel heard or a reminder that you deserve the love you give to others! <3

--------

Weeks.

Has it been weeks?

No, it's actually been a few months since the day you gained the confidence and willpower to walk out on your past and very toxic relationship. You've kept track. After all, you thought your ex would be hurting too, until you've discovered from mutual friends that he had already moved on.

That's right. At first, it was a mention from a mutual that they've heard him mention on his own socials that he was going to a concert - a concert of a group you were very confident he didn't know nor listen to very much. Then the day came when it was the supposed concert. You saw on another mutual friend's Instagram that he was seeing the group with the same girl he told you not to worry about countless times prior. The same girl who he would not hesitate to make time when she said the word, yet when you asked him for his time, he would throw a fit. Then goes the most recent news - that he was supposedly trying to get on his coworker.

This boy was the same one who told you, when you sobbed to him while trying to stand your ground, that he didn't agree to this relationship ending and he wanted to continue fighting for you two. The same one that told you that he'd rather you stay with him and heal than walk away. The same one who told you, "will we ever be together again in the future?"

It hurt.

It hurt knowing that this person you gave five long, hard years for threw you away so easily. You fought for him despite your friends and family refusing to support your relationship, despite the fact that they all mentioned how he had red flags yet your young, naive self gave him the benefit of the doubt. You fought for him, yet you got taken advantage of in more ways than you want to remember while he felt little to no remorse for his actions as his words never aligned.

It hurt knowing that while you gave a lot of love to him, you're left wondering if you're even enough for another person, if there will ever be someone in your life to treat you the way you deserve to be treated. While you were still healing, your ex, who you walked away still full of love, was ready to find the next person to fuck around with.

Though many of your friends suggested you to hop on the dating apps and just fuck your feelings away to those who had no strings attached, you knew you couldn't do that. You love with your whole heart. Sure you can sleep with others and enjoy the sex life with potential partners who shared your kinky fantasies, but how can you? Your relationship was full of one-sided lust that you felt like you were only good for sex.

You were healing a lot faster now that months had gone by since your breakup, but it didn't stop the thoughts of insecurity that would constantly come up every now and then. You've gone on many hangouts with friends who happened to be dating and seen just how wonderfully they treat each other and it makes you wonder... 'Will I ever get that kind of treatment?'

After your breakup, you made a vow to yourself that you would set aside as much time as you can to spend with your friends and family, the very people who supported you individually from the start and continued to even after that. Through each hangout, your best friend, Felix, was there every step of the way.

He was always there since the beginning. He was there when he warned you about your ex before you got into that relationship. He was there during your entire relationship, albeit being at a bit of a distance to respect your space and privacy with your partner. Lastly, he's there for you right now.

You had spent the whole day with him, letting the day be a normal hangout - one that allowed you two to enjoy board games with other friends before they had to go home, leaving you alone in your small apartment with Felix.

After the mutual friends had left, Felix had noticed your mood shift slightly towards the end of the game night and decided to bake you some chocolate chip cookies as a treat to cheer you up. He knew they were your favorite sweet treats after all. While he prepped the ingredients and put up a YouTube video in the background, you scrolled through your Instagram feed lazily, only to have the worst timing and notice the same girl you were warned to not worry about post about your ex yet again. Yes you were doing better in this healing process but the pain was still ever so present.

You let out an exasperated sigh as your head dropped into your folded arms against the counter, causing Felix to look up from the video and pause. "Are you alright?"

You only responded with an unhappy, muffled groan in your arms. Felix raised an eyebrow at you as his gaze shifted towards the phone in your hand. Your screen stayed stagnant on the post with your friend and your ex.

"You know, you could always remove this girl from your socials. Why don't you? It's not like you still talk to her." Felix suggested, taking your phone out of your hands and analyzing the post.

"She hasn't done anything directly to make me have a reason to cut her off... it wouldn't be right." You retorted. That thought often crossed your mind without him even mentioning it if you were being honest. It would lift a mental load on you to remove the last person who wanted to associate with your ex from your social media, but you still felt it was wrong to remove someone who never hurt you, at least with intention.

Felix scoffed. "Does it matter? She doesn't know him well enough to know what he did to you, or to anticipate what he might do to her. If it helps you in the long run, you might as well do it."

You ignored his reply, your thoughts were going elsewhere anyway. You stared into nothingness as the post's image burned into your brain, how happy the girl was to be beside the abuser. Your thoughts were going all over the place if you were being honest.

'Why do you want to associate with him? He's a horrible person! Ugh, but you don't know...'

'You don't even know how terrible he is, but I guess sometimes people only learn the hard way...'

'He literally told me not to worry about her and how he only saw her as a little sister figure but why was his hand so dangerously low in that photo...'

'Just how many lies did he feed me to keep me from trusting my gut feelings...'

'She is a pretty girl with a gorgeous figure... it's no wonder he kept his eyes on her.'

'She was the one worth driving an hour and more for without hesitation. She was the one he was willing to treat out to restaurants and gift flowers for. I was the inconvenience after all...'

Your thoughts were becoming sadder and darker as they went through each and every lie he told you. Tears began to well in your eyes until you suddenly felt your hand getting tugged, dragging you out of your thoughts and into the situation at hand. Felix started leading you towards your couch and maneuvered you into sitting onto his lap.

"Wh- Felix, what are you doing? I-I'm heavy!" You started to get embarrassed and immediately tried to lift yourself from his lap, only for him to keep you there with his arms. He kept you in a gentle yet firm embrace that prevented you from trying to escape.

"You're not even heavy, stop it." You stopped squirming and just continued to avoid his gaze. You knew if he saw the tears threatening to fall from your eyes you would hear it from him, but he surprisingly said nothing as he kept you in his arms.

He reached over to the side and grabbed a blanket nearby, drooping over his back before he took each end to make his way to wrap you in. He gently cradled your head into his neck, his head sitting softly atop yours. His other arm kept you in an unescapable hold while rubbing small circles on your back. Although you wanted to escape out of embarrassment, you didn't retaliate to his small, gentle gestures. You felt your muddy thoughts begin to clear out as Felix continued to cradle you in his arms.

"Felix... what are you doing?" You repeated with more naivety and less aggression.

"What does it look like, [Y/n]?"

Your face began to flush, but you tried your best to pay it no mind. "You don't need to do this to me, okay? I don't... I don't deserve it."

"Why do you think you don't deserve it?"

The post burned into your mind again. "Because... there are better people out there who deserve it more than I do." Like her. I'm not someone you should be doing these kinds of things to. I don't deserve it.

"Hmm... maybe you're right, but I know you deserve to feel secure and have affection too." Felix replied, adjusting slightly to turn your head to face his direction as he started brushing his fingers through your hair, pushing your loose strands away from your face to the best of his ability in your position. The gesture small yet soothing, an unfamiliar feeling that you definitely leaned into and enjoyed every minute of.

"I can't imagine what he put you through but what I can tell you is that you too are deserving of more than just being treated as an object. You're not an object, you're a human, okay? So don't ever treat yourself as anything less when you deserve more."

You felt the tears in your eyes rebuild from the ever growing happiness in your heart hearing his words, but you fought them from overflowing. You shook your head, wanting to retort more but as you opened your mouth, the words never left your throat. It felt that if you tried to counter Felix again, the tears would win over and you wouldn't be able to stop. 'I really don't...'

"[Y/n]," he softly pressed his lips against the crown of your head. "You deserve to feel loved too. You deserve to experience the joys of getting a wonderful surprise from your support system. You deserve to be invited and brought to cute and romantic dates with lots of effort. You deserve something even as simple as handholding!"

It's as if he felt your tears fall because he pulled you away from him to use his free hand to gently wipe away the tears from your eyes, not caring that they lightly stained his sleeve and shirt. He continued to brush your loose hairs away from your facial features as he made sure you kept your eyes on him. "You are loved and you will experience that love too. If you allow me, I will show you exactly how you should be treated - although, it might just be the same as what we already do."

"But... what would be the difference between the things we do now compared to the things we will do after this point?"

"Well, I guess I won't have to hold back how I feel about you. That would probably be the only difference." He said with a small chuckle. "But you don't have to worry about anything, I don't expect you to feel anything right away nor do I want you to feel rushed into deciding anything with me. I just want you to experience the love, respect, and happiness you're supposed to have."

You thought about it with a smile. Your current experience with Felix as of recently has been filled with nothing but joy and laughter. There would be times where you would vent about your healing thoughts and he would generously offer an ear and shoulder. Most of the time, however, it was genuine laughs and happiness that triggered your habit of hiccupping when you laughed too hard. Those memories you've made with him recently just made you enjoy his presence more and more. It was no lie that he made sure he always thought of your picky habits whenever others wanted to go to a restaurant, how he made your heart flutter with every smile he shone at you and every gentlemanly gesture he did in consideration of you.

It wasn't going to be an easy lesson to relearn but you knew exactly what he was trying to teach you. You don't know how to accept such kind and affectionate gestures because you were so used to bland, lustful touches. You didn't think you deserved to be treated so delicately when all you've known is how to be used and thrown to the side when the other was no longer satisfied.

It was hard, but you can feel your healing process become much easier and smoother with Felix by your side. After all, he knew you best, he witnessed you through your highs and lows to the point where he learned what ticked you off and what brought you the highest joy. He's someone who observed and applied what he learned to make sure you would be treated with the respect you deserved.

It won't be quick and it won't be easy, but one thing you know for sure is that you felt the most safe and loved with him than anyone you can ever imagine.

-End-

[thesparklingwriter]

to be loved by a dragon

tags: fem!reader, implied smut?, we all know what's going on (they r at it‼️), starts wholesome and then takes a sharp turn to the left, mentions of degradation, after care, is this self-indulgent? yes. do i care? no.

word count: 0.2k

taglist | masterlist

Zhongli, who almost can’t believe that it’s you he gets to be with, who sees the looks you get as you walk through Liyue harbour and relishes in the way others admire you—regardless of how many times you tell him how perfect he is to you.

Zhongli, who watches you carefully, watching to see what you like and don’t like, to squirrel it away in a safe corner of his mind and commit to his memory—even though you’ve told him time and time again that he needn’t worry about it.

Zhongli, who rarely ever speaks to you without punctuating his sentence with a sweet name for you, a reminder to you of how much he loves and cherished you and every second he gets with you

Zhongli, who wouldn’t dream of speaking to you the way you ask him to, who questions why someone as perfect as you would want to hear such harsh words, especially from someone who loves you so dearly—despite the fact you’ve begged him to do so more times than you can count on your fingers.

Zhongli, who has his mind fine tuned to every sound you make, who silently matches his movements to your quiet whimpers, gently pushing your hair back from your face as he captures your mouth in a gentle kiss.

Zhongli, whose hips stutter when you look up at him with such love and unadulterated affection, because he doesn't believe he deserves to be looked at like that, and certainly not by you.

Zhongli, who treats you like a princess, running you a bath and brushing your hair as he quietly tells you the stories that he knows you love so dearly, and smiles blissfully when you later return the favour.

Zhongli, who doesn’t believe he’s deserving of a love as pure as yours, but spends every day proving to you that he won’t make you regret it.

© 2023, thesparklingwriter. please do not copy, edit, repost, or translate.

notes: drops this, runs away, buries her face in her pillow and questions all her life decisions up to this point, its not even proofread cause i can't bear to do it, no taglist because i don't plan to make a habit of this :3

[fanfiction-blep]

Hi! Any chance you’d do a Navi miles x reader where they’re both crushing on each other so the rest of the recoms come up with a plan to make him jealous so he’ll make the first move? Maybe like Lyle full on hitting on her or something? Thank you 😊

This is so cute and wholesome. And the first thing that popped into my head was this scene from new girl...

Fuck It~

Warnings: Implied smut, Pining, alcohol, party, plotting. light makeout session.

I was leaning against the far wall of the room. Watching the party ensure from a distance. Recoms and humans alike, mingling, swaying to the music vibrating off the walls. I lifted the red cup to my lips taking a generous swig smirking at Z-dog arm wrestling with Lyle. The booming chorus of jeers and yells almost overwhelming.

"how you doing?" the voice of my colleague taking me by surprise. I looked over to her, shaking my head.

"We're not talking about it"

"What do you mean?"

"I don't want to talk about my feelings for him" Almost on cue, Miles laughed, his head thrown back as he finally let loose for once. I was glad he needed to let loose once in a while, I don't think I'd seen him relax like this, ever. It just confirmed what I feared most. He hated me.

I've known it for some time not this is why I keep my distance, he was cold around me. Distant, he wouldn't look me in the eyes. He would flinch at my touch and excuse himself at any given opportunity. It hurt, each and every time. Every side eye, every snort at my views or input. It made me smile, just an inch. Before his eyes fell on me, and the smile dropped. And his laugh faded. I instinctively walked away, heading to the kitchen adjacent to the common area where this 'party' was being held. I needed a drink. I poured twice as much alcohol into my cup, I was done. I had to get over this crush. These feelings the longing to have him hold me, to feel him. I had to push through it, because clearly he felt nothing other than disgust for me. Angela joined me in the kitchen, her eyes softening at my irritated state.

"You don't know how he feels" She whispered placing a hand on my shoulder. I snorted at her statement beginning to feel stupid for even having feelings.

"You do?" She smirked at me turning away walking back into the main room only looking at me again to throw a wink over her shoulder.

"Lets play a game" She called, half the room stopping in their tracks to stare at her.

"Oh what are we? teenagers?" Miles shook his head, I couldn't take this any more. I stepped next to Angela and forced a smile.

"I'm in" Miles' head snapped in my direction, I couldn't see his face but Lyle who was in my direct line of sight was smirking making eye contact with Angela. And in that moment I knew I fucked up, this fucker knew and Angela had something to do with it. I kept my cool and tried to play along, I was sure of one thing. No matter what Miles wouldn't be participating. "What we playing"

"Lets mix things up a little, each put a personal item in a bowl whoever's stuff you pick" He paused for dramatic effect "You have to spent some alone time together, whoever's item was picked has to dish out of the bowl next" He leaned behind him pouring a bowl of crisps on the floor and thrusted the bowl in Angela and I's direction. I slipped off my necklace, a delicate gold chain with my initial hanging from the metal. I dropped it in the bowl, Angela dropped a ring. Lyle his dog tag. Another human scientist placed his phone throwing a wink my way, I lowered my gaze and angry blush dusting my cheeks. I saw Miles stand up from the corner of my eye he slipped his own dog tag in the bowl. A few others added their items but I was frozen. A few rounds went by the bowl getting passed around Angela got her turn, Z-dog leading her into the room. I was forced out of my own mind when Lyle called my name. I looked up to see him dangling my necklace between his fingers, he nodded in the direction of the kitchen. Making a quick glance over at Miles before walking over to me draping an arm over my shoulder.

"play along" He whispered low, like he would afraid someone would hear. He ushered me into the room quickly locking the door behind us.

"Lyle, I'm not interested I am so sorry if you have gotten to wrong impression." He let out a low chuckle at my words.

"I ain't tryna put the moves on you. Don't worry, its all a show" He leaned against the counter next to the sink.

"For who?"

"Oh you know" And based on how all this has gone down, I defiantly did.

"He hates me, I don't know why you are trying to torture him."

"Oh this is torturing him alright." I didn't get the opportunity to question him further before loud banging sounded on the door.

"Common you guys"

"It's only been five second, it was just getting good." He said the last five words quieter however who ever was on the other side heard and laughed. Nothing was making sense and I irritated and bored now.

"Let's get my turn over with." I snapped at him, pushing past him and barging out of the room. Everyone's eyes were instantly on me, I felt like a deer in headlights. Miles had his back turned his shoulders tense, Angela look apprehensive she was trying to talk to me with her eyes but the elephant in the room was obvious. Miles didn't want him around me or his friends. His flattened ears and his thrashing tail told me more than I needed to know. I stormed over to the bowl pulling out the first thing that grazed my fingers. I pulled out a dog tag. My heart fell, my throat got tight. I pulled the metal into my palm and read the name. Miles Quaritch. "Shit" I breathed looking and seeing Miles staring at me, his eyes wide. "Lets get this over with" He stands up hands running over his face. I was beyond annoyed at this point. I had never been anything other than nice to this man I had been polite and kind and he treated me like I was a piece of gum on his shoe. So when he leaned against the counter facing the wall opposite him. Not saying a word not a single word.

"Have fun in there love birds."

"Shut it Lyle"

"Idiot" I huffed, Miles huffed and shook his head. "I get that you hate me but you don't have to act like being in here with me is some kind of punishment."

"Punishment? you think this is the punishment?" He turned to me eyes narrow and angry i backed away instinctively, he slowly inched closer to me with every word. "No the punishment was being sat out there knowing Lyle had his hands all over ya" He sneered eventually backing me against the far surface the corners biting into my mid back. They were higher to accommodate the recoms.

"He didn't do anything to me, I told him I wasn't interested in him" Miles was shocked by my words so much so he backed away from me.

"But he said-"

"I don't care what he said" I snapped anger rising in my stomach I had had enough of this man. "You know what?"

"What?" He sighed not looking at me anymore.

"I like you" His eyes met mine widening. "But you hate me, this is the first time you've looked me in the eyes in months, you clearly find me repulsive cus you wont let me touch you and god forbid i talk about you. You run out the room faster than a cat on fire."

"I won't look you in the eyes because seeing them look up at me? reminds me how beautiful you are every time. I won't let you touch me because all it does is make me want to hold you, have your bare skin against mine. I leave when I hear your voice I wanna hear ya scream my name" He had started leaning down his face inching closer and closer to my own. "I wanna hear all the noises that I can get ya to make"

"Miles" I breathed heavily I heard him mutter a low 'Fuck it' before he dove in. His lips capturing my own in a passionate grip. His fingers pushed their way into my hair. His tongue pushing past my lips as he worked against them. He was really good at this, I felt like I couldn't breath His other brushing against my thigh.

"Jump" He mumbled into my lips, I did as I was told. Gasping as he placed me on the counter behind us and standing between my legs his crotch grinding against my own.

"Miles" I whined pushing my hips forward.

"Not here, not like this." He gasped pulling away from me cupping my face in his hands and resting his forehead against my own. "Imma take ya out, then Imma bring you back to my bed. Sound good sweetheart?" I nodded biting my lip. He groaned at the sight and pressed a kiss to my nose. "Good girl"

[hwaightme]

Hand hug

(masterlist) (perma-taglist)

🫶 pairing: hongjoong x gn!reader 🫶 genre: fluff, friends to lovers, implied producer/idol joong bc iykyk 🫶 summary: you and hongjoong have many traditions, inside jokes, and stories, but do you really know him like the back of your hand? 🫶 wordcount: 3.0k 🫶 warnings/tags: editing? mayhaps, coffee at questionable hours, food mention, convenience store snaccysnaccs, producer!joong, wholesome joong in a hoodie, rooftops/being on roof, night scenery, very late(early) night(morning) 🫶 taglist: at the bottom of the fic~ 🫶 a/n: @pocketjoong my love, my Sky, my universe, my everything. happy birthday <3 i love you to infinity, and thank you for everything and more! i am wishing you all the best on this amazing day~ and i hope you like this joongie~ <3

Hand hugs. One of the many, many inside jokes and mini traditions that you had crafted together with Hongjoong over the course of your friendship. Or relationship. Or whatever pining for your friend for ages was supposed to be called. You did not mind. At least you got your Hongjoong by your side. Or could you even say that?

While you watched Hongjoong rush down the aisle of the convenience store after he had exclaimed that he had forgotten something ‘essential’, the thought plagued your mind, gnawing on it like a persistent little devil. Just like it had done the last time you two hung out, and the one before that. How would you react if he were to ever date anyone? Get in a relationship? Get married? Would you be okay with being the best friend at his wedding, quietly seething in the corner and wishing that it was you standing next to him? You shrugged to yourself and clutched the basket tighter in your hands.

It was always you and Joong. You knew him like the back of your hand, and he knew you like the back of his. Maybe that was why the hand hugs were so symbolic, transcending their original intent, which was to find a compromise between your desire for oxytocin surges and his aversion to all things physical touch. A simple palm to palm, digits to digits, thumb around the other’s hand. A hand hug. Simple. Sweet. A reminder for both of you that you knew each other, and were living a beautiful life together.

While you were caught up in your musings you noticed your load lightening a little too late - Hongjoong was already on his way to pay, again. With a yelp you started for the self checkout, but he softly nudged you with his hip, a cheeky smile adorning his face while he scanned the items. You pondered if this deserved a joking purchase of something abominably spicy, but decided against it. After all, you would not be able to force him to eat it even if you tried. So you simply held a resting gaze on the methodical swiping and the way in which the items disappeared into Hongjoong’s trusty canvas bag, one after the other. 

It was tattered, showed some darkening at the edges, a couple of loose threads here and there, but Hongjoong would fight you if you were to even dare suggest throwing it away. But you would never even think to do it - after all, the design that it bore was one you two had painted together, a few years ago in the midst of one change after another. It was a depiction of the Earth surrounded by the random favourite things that made the two of you who you were. Pleasant and heart-warming memories. This canvas bag had carried things equally as pivotal to the both of you. It had carried your items when you moved out to begin life as an independent adult (only to have Hongjoong visit you, or you visit Hongjoong so often that you knew no solitude), it had held the equipment and disks owned by none other than your closest and dearest friend as he marched to the studio, dreams stronger than ever, passion and eagerness to achieve in every step. The handles remembered the way in which you would share the weight, one for each person, swinging ever so slightly as you would walk in stride down the city streets wherever your hearts desired. Just like you were doing now, with the snacks and quick meals protected by the sturdy material. In your free hands, you had your ‘cost effective coffees’, as Hongjoong had called them once and the title stuck. This was your favourite kind of two in the morning.

There was only one place where your feet would take you at this hour, and it was the rooftop. Not any kind of rooftop, but the one on Hongjoong’s apartment building, located in a scenic and quiet residential district, a little ways off from the centre of the city, but giving the best landscapes and skyline view of glimmering lights. The walk to his building was silent - there was no need to fill the atmosphere with aimless chatter that would, either way, turn to a hazy, noisy static. You knew what the other was thinking, at least you wanted to pretend you did. You smiled to yourself. If only he was thinking the same as you were in this moment. About the closeness of your hands, about how your heart was pounding in your chest, about how you caught the scent of his cologne that suited him so well when he playfully pushed you. You focused on the dimly lit street ahead, trying to keep your breathing level as you trekked higher and higher up the hill, to your one true paradise.

Thankfully the building was only a few stories high, and did not need too intense of an effort to conquer. At least this was what you told yourself every time before starting on the journey up the spiralling flights of stairs, one step after the other until you were almost out of breath and your legs were just starting to ache - there was your cardio for the next day or so until you would decide to do this all over again. Because this was a small price to pay for the timelessness that you would experience once you got to the top. A click of the key, a turn of the doorknob, and the infinite expanse of the night was surrounding you, and the breeze gently tousled your locks as you stepped out onto the roof, following Hongjoong closely. 

You were not sure how exactly he had managed to convince his landlord to give him the keys to the roof, since it was normally off limits and a mystery even for the permanent residents. Maybe Hongjoong promised to clean and re-vamp the place a bit - which he most definitely did, considering that it now looked like the ultimate relaxation spot, with outdoor fairy lights, plants that did not mind waiting until the next rainfall to be watered, lounge chairs, an antique table that he had picked up at the secondhand market and reinforced to live through the tests of the great outdoors, and some little trinkets that were simply so him that it made you want to burst into tears. He had an eye for design, an eye for expression, and whether he would have liked for you to say this or not, had an eye for love. It was all around you. In everything he had done to the place, in how he treated it, in how he pulled out the chair for you, in how the two of you took a moment to look out into the distance, marking out the local attractions and main highlights of the city before launching into a scavenger hunt through the canvas bag, keeping quiet and feigning obliviousness when your hands brushed once, twice, another time. No, you could never give up this feeling. 

Clinking plastic cups, the lids preventing the drink that was the colour of deep mahogany and the taste of bitter remnants of a campfire, you reclined on your seat and nodded to yourself absent-mindedly, taking a sip. Nothing could be sweeter than this after all. You stole another glance at Hongjoong, who was still wistfully staring off into the distance, caught up in his thoughts. You and him decided to wear your ‘accidentally matching’ hoodies today, in the true free and young spirit of the late night, or early morning, raid on the convenience store. You said ‘accidental’, but was it really when the hoodie was one that he had gifted you for your birthday, and ‘just so happened’ to have a similar one, obviously new? Regarding the piece with a soft smile, you had taken note of how the sleeves of the hoodie spilled just a little bit over his frail, yet elegant wrists, practically transforming into warmers or mittens. Only thanks to the drink which he was cradling in his perfectly manicured hands - with one finger sporting a new coat of nail polish, could you even see his digits in the lulling semi-darkness.

Nothing was being said, and yet a whole universe was passing with every second. In every sigh, twist, tilt of the head, in how Hongjoong flicked through his phone only to put it down and let soft instrumentals twirl from the speakers - a track he was working on, no doubt, in everything that the two of you shared was something you did not wish to even begin to define, out of fear that it would crumble before you. A fragile creature, a precious little bird that cautiously shared its song with the two of you, perched on the echoes of years behind you. Hopping from branch to branch of dialogue and dreaming. The acoustic piece ended, and with it, the birdsong. A trembling flutter of the wings carried it away into your ribcage, and you waited with bated breath for the next moment. Hongjoong set his coffee aside, clumsily pausing the track which had already returned to the intro and was beginning to repeat the first few strums of the guitar chords, and with a timid smile, gazed at you. Expectant. You looked away, trying to find comfort in the glints of distant stars, the hum of traffic miles away and howling of ghostly sirens reflecting off the blanket of deep navy, an onyx-coated purple, and right at the horizon, of stubborn, yet dazed and tired ashen reds and yellows of the urban nocturne. 

“Thoughts?” not liking the sound of his own voice, he cleared his throat after letting the whisper escape him. You paid it no mind, every syllable turning into a stunning creation in your mind. The best the sonorous world could offer. He leaned closer, you could feel it, but you remained how you were, pretending to be transfixed by the starry masterpiece.

“It’s pretty,” you mumbled back, ambiguous. You knew better than to hope that Hongjoong would end the discussion there. Ever since the early days, he would ask you for your reviews, opinions, critiques, input… During nights like these, the most casual get-together could turn into a listening party, with him playing song after song only to stop one midway and start another, worried, wanting to impress you. All the more exciting for you - you could listen forever.

“What is?” he tried again, perching his elbows on the armrest of his chair, to the point where you could sense his presence next to you.

“The tune.”

“There wasn’t one though?” you could imagine his eyes narrowing as he asked.

“I can hear it. And I know you already have one in mind so,” you let your sentence trail off as you took another sip of the cooling coffee.

“Got you. Incomplete, right?” he picked up on your cues better than anyone could. You nodded, humming in agreement with his conclusion.

“Yeah. But I know you considered it.”

“Sure did. What are you piecing together?” he continued, running a hand through his hair, to adjust some invisible strand. A nervous habit. So he could feel it too after all. Unless you were misreading in your recent state of hoping. You chuckled, deciding to not delve further into whether it was at yourself or the evident tension, lifting the cup to eye level to inspect how it caught the fairy lights, revealing various shades of brown, copper, silvery white from the plastic. 

“That one melody from last week. Tuesday, I think it was. The one where you had the synth riff and the humming. And then the lyrical refrain you told me you wrote while waiting for me by the bakery,” he gleamed, soul growing warmer from your recollection. You fiddled with the cardboard holder, Hongjoong’s burning look proving to be too much to handle.

“I swear, you can read my mind,” you could not help but exhale sharply, bemused at the suggestion. If anything, you were convinced of the opposite. There were few times when you were certain of what was going on in Hongjoong’s beautiful mind. Be it a new project or creative adventure that he was embarking on, or an entirely different experiment, or a surprise that you could not even begin to conjure ideas about. He was a mystery, but that was one of the many things you loved about him. Your reaction earned you a raise of the eyebrow and a light tap on your shoulder, making you finally turn towards your friend, only for the intensity of his eyes to be almost breathtaking, “what was that?”

“Nothing,”

“Am I wrong?”

“I mean… you do keep whole albums a secret for… goodness knows how long so…”

“I bet you know what I am thinking now,” his boldness took you off-guard, and you paused. Blinking a couple of times to adjust to the sudden shift in what was between you, so laden with an unspeakable force that you could barely formulate your own response, you regarded his outstretched arm, palm facing you, fingers together, all except the thumb. You squinted in suspicion, but failed to conceal the grin that was creeping onto your features as you moved to complete the hand hug. 

“Kim Hongjoong… what are you plotting?” words failed to leave an impact, it seemed, since your friend merely picked the cup from your hands to leave it beside his at the table. 

Pressing his palm to yours, he concentrated. You could not look away, not when you were going progressively more haywire with each passing second. He was not letting go, thumb beginning to dig into the back of your hand, and his gaze remained trained on you, only you. Right through you and into your heart. He was reading you and seeing your every thought about him - that was how the exchange felt. Hongjoong was picking apart your infatuation, inspecting it, living it. You felt exposed in front of him, and yet he would not allow you to let go. That much you were sure of. Unlike whatever he was mulling over. 

But you did not need to wait much longer for your answer, as, in a split second, your fingers were intertwined and he was pulling you closer and closer to him, his other hand flying to your shoulder to support you and prevent any falls. When you were only a couple of centimetres away, he stopped, as though all bravery had left him temporarily, and his eyes darted from yours, to your lips, back again, anywhere except your face and back to you, now staying. In this eternity of being in one space, sharing the same breath, searching for a future in the decision that was to come, you finally clear that no, you could not see anyone like this. Anyone except your Hongjoong.

“I'd say you can guess… maybe?”

“I don’t think I can,” coy, you responded, much to Hongjoong’s relief. You were you, the one he loved, and nothing was going to change that. This, just like any of the traditions, habits, memories you had made together, was the most natural, and most precious thing in the universe.

“Let me give you a hint,” a whisper, sultry, low was the last thing you heard before your worlds collided, and his lips were moving in a perfect rhythm with yours.

It was like puzzle pieces falling into place. Long lost soulmates finding each other. The sun rising after a thunderstorm. It felt like all the times that had made you and Hongjoong who you were, and who you were going to be. Your hand found purchase on the side of his face, his sharp jawline and soft skin in a stunning harmony against your fingertips. In every sense, it was him, and him alone, and you were blessed by the stars themselves.

Only when you heard the creaking of a chair did you pull away, and glimpsed Hongjoong cursing under his breath and muttering that he ‘hated this thing’ before he stood up, sweeping you away with him. You obliged, longing for his closeness. This was unprecedented, but so, so very welcome. A strong arm around your waist, and a quick push under the chin focusing you back on him, and you were back in bliss, in an entrancing tandem. The kiss was a revival, just like it was a revisitation. It was right. It tasted like the coffee and the late nights, it reminded you of the deep talks and the walks to nowhere and everywhere, it made you yearn for more and yet in the marvellous dance of your lips against his, you found it.

“What am I thinking?” Hongjoong asked as you broke apart, inhales pronounced by the chill of the early hour.

“You are thinking… ‘wow, this is way too close for comfort’,” you jested, chuckling when he scrunched his nose in mock frustration.

“Okay no you definitely cannot read my mind,” he answered, finding your hand once more, and lifting it to his own. Palm to palm. Digits to digits. Thumbs around to complete the miniature embrace. You watched, beaming. 

Hongjoong was closer than ever before, for you and with you, and your heart was about to burst. You regarded him, the love in his eyes and his every gesture as he rocked side to side, just how he knew you liked. Soothing, and always yours. He knew you and you knew him, and at the same time, never failed to find new beauty in one another and details to learn. Masterpieces, forever evolving, you were in this moment together, in this city, on this rooftop, in each other’s arms. Alive and in love. Through the silence, your voice travelled.

“So we are now hand huggers who kiss each other sometimes,” he laughed, breaking into your favourite grin, and leaned forwards until his forehead was against yours.

“Mhm. Sounds good to me.”

🫶 taglist: @acciocriativity @justhere4kpop @byuntrash101 @shakalakaboomboo @starillusion13 @hongthoven @cqndiedcherries @uwuheeseungie @cheollipop @frankenstein852 @charreddonuts @miriamxsworld @mingigoo @michel-angelhoe @innsomniacshinestar @foxinnie8 @preciouswoozi @wooyoungjpg @nebulousbookshelf @wowie-hockey @hongjoongs-patience @ssaboala @jaehunnyy @kitten4sannie @maddkitt @lightinyreads @ren-junwrld @burnmepls @pyeonghongrie-main @archivesummer @little-angel-k @marsstarxhwa @/pocketjoong-reads @alyszaen

enjoyed the fic? i would really appreciate any reblogs, comments, notes! much love!

[nikolai-alexi]

For @jegulus-microfic

Prompt: Weekend (I’m a day late, but I fell asleep at my desk writing this last night lmao)

WC: 1,250 i really tried to keep it under 1k but fjdjdnfjr here we are i once again failed the “micro” portion of this

Tags: Poly RoseStarKillerChaser (Jegulus x Rosekiller), a very strange RSKC dynamic here, James and Regulus have been together for a year-ish but James, Evan and Barty are only just beginning to navigate their own little relationship, James is quite anxious about the whole thing but he’s trying really hard, it’s very vaguely implied that Regulus, Evan and Barty have been together for a while (in what capacity? idk man I just work here), it’s all very queer platonic tbh, they’re just a big puppy pile of exhausted people and everyone uses James as a human heater like the little reptiles they are, Barty is a human wrecking ball and just constantly walks into a room and bites whoever’s nearest to him because he’s Barty and what else would he do, I have an unreasonable amount of affection for James calling Barty “bub”, Evan is adorable and touch starved and just wants a hug, Reg is a cat animagus, it’s vvv wholesome

It’s the first weekend they’ve all managed to be together since term started. Which is, objectively, insane because it’s Christmas break. Every single time they’ve tried to spend any amount of time together, someone has had something come up. Whether that’s exam prep, suspicious friends, detentions, or projects, it’s all somehow managed to ruin their plans.

And look, James gets that trying to make four schedules align all at once whilst avoiding suspicion from friends or getting caught by professors is difficult, but he is sick of it. This…thing…they have going is new. It’s tremulous and blooming and none of them really know where the lines are with each other. It makes James so incredibly nervous. He knows where he stands with Regulus, after a year together he feels mostly confident in what he’s doing with Regulus, the boundaries, the navigating, the trauma responses. But with Evan and Barty? He has no idea what the hell is happening. It makes him anxious. He wants to know how to define the lines of this strange relationship the all have. They aren’t friends, but they aren’t not friends, but they aren’t lovers, but they aren’t not lovers. It makes James’ head spin. He doesn’t like not having clear expectations.

He’s forcefully ripped out of his rather maudlin thoughts when someone audibly collides with his side, knocking the breath out of his lungs with a soft “oof” and disturbing the previously peacefully sleeping cat on his lap. Regulus, in his frankly adorable animagus form, grumbles without opening his eyes more than a tiny slit and rearranges himself before going back to sleep. The scent of cigarette smoke, whiskey, and Evan’s vanilla shampoo invades his nostrils when he tries to turn his head.

Barty is slumped unceremoniously against his side, face buried into James’ neck, one hand atop Regulus’ soft fur, and the other fisted in James’ shirt.

Then Barty bites him. Hard.

James rolls his eyes. This, he understands. Their new dynamic may only be a few months old, but Barty entering a room and biting the nearest person to him? That was old news.

“That bad, bub?” He asks quietly.

Barty doesn’t say anything, just stops biting him so he can tuck his head into James’ neck and nod. James’ free hand instinctively comes up to card through Barty’s hair like he’s seen Evan do thousands of times. Barty stiffens at the first few passes of James’ fingers, but he slowly relaxes and James can feel his low hum resonate through his own chest.

He shifts just a bit and sees Barty’s ridiculously long legs hanging off the armrest of the sofa and chuckles. Barty is just a slumped over heap of awkward limbs and exhaustion. James’ wand is in his bag across the room, but a casual flick of his wrist has it sailing towards him.

Transfiguring the sofa whilst they’re laying on on it is a bit trickier, but he’s not been the top student in transfiguration for seven years straight for nothing. He manages to get a large bed with a bit of a crooked frame beneath them after several long minutes without disturbing Reg or Barty. Both of them are fast asleep. He’s not sure when Barty drifted off, but he can feel his soft snores against his neck.

Thank Merlin for the amount of Quidditch training he does, because trying to situate Barty is a feat, but eventually, he gets Barty tucked against his right side so he’s no longer hanging precariously off the furniture. Regulus has abandoned James’ legs in favour of smushing himself in between James and Barty, the body heat thief he is.

When Evan comes barrelling through the door of the Come and Go Room an hour later with dark purple bags under his eyes and a manic sort of look, James just holds his left arm out in invitation. Evan sheds his shoes and outer robes with easy efficiency and falls onto the transfigured bed in an eerily similar fashion to Barty. Evan isn’t quite as tactile with James as Barty is yet, so he has to quickly mask his surprise when Evan tucks himself against James’ side, tucking his freezing hands under James’ shirt.

“You okay?” James asks, careful to keep his voice as quiet as possible. Regulus still opens his eyes enough to glare at him, but perks up considerably when he sees Evan and comes to curl up on James’ chest, tucking himself under Evan’s chin. James feels him purring just seconds later. Reg doesn’t pick favourites, my left arse cheek, James thinks with a wry grin.

Evan sighs softly, and his breath tickles, but he doesn’t say anything, not that James expects him to. Evan is like Regulus with his words — selective and careful. When he speaks, you stop and listen. When he doesn’t speak, you listen to what his silence says. Evan and Regulus communicate more in their quietness than they ever do with speech. It’s been something James has had to actively work very hard on to understand. He and Barty operate on a much similar frequency to each other. They’re both chaotic and loud in their own ways. Barty has a mean streak that gets him into trouble, and James has no boundaries with other people which gets him into shitty situations. They balance each other out, sorta. James attempts to keep Barty from hexing first years and Barty pushes anyone who has the audacity to look at James wrong down the stairs. It works…sometimes.

James brings his arm up and very tentatively wraps it around Evan; a silent question hanging in the air between them, to which Evan nods his acquiesce. That small gesture makes warmth bloom behind his breastbone and he knows he’s not imagining the almost inaudible huff of laughter from Evan when he no doubt hears James’ heartbeat pick up underneath his ear. He doesn’t bother to keep the grin off his face.

He wraps his arm around Evan and drapes his arm over Regulus’ back, brushing his fingers against Barty’s. He doesn’t hold Evan to him, just keeps his arm loose and relaxed, draped over him. Never pinning or holding him down. Evan’s breath comes quickly for a few, long moments, but eventually it steadies out once more. It doesn’t take long, between being tucked against James’ side, the purring cat curled under his chin, and Barty’s annoying, but comforting snores, for Evan to fall prey to the siren call of sleep too.

James remains awake a while longer. He listens to Barty snoring, feels Regulus purring and his little paws making biscuits in his sleep, breathes in the smell of vanilla and the Forest after a rain shower that perpetually clings to Evan, and feels his mind’s activity slow to a crawl. All of his anxieties take a back seat, his racing thoughts settle down, and the constant buzzing between his ears quiets. He knows they only have this weekend. Monday will come around and Regulus and Evan will have to go back to their awful families for the holidays, he will go to his parents’, and Barty will be left, alone, at school. He knows they only have three days of this together, but from where he’s laying, this doesn’t seem like a bad way to spend their time together.

He loses the battle against sleep with a sweet smile stretched across his lips. Yeah, he thinks, this isn’t a bad way to spend it at all.

[yan-randomfandom]

Hello! Call me Yan (any prns), and I'm honestly here to satisfy my cravings as a writer 😔

♪ REQUEST STATUS: OPEN—Although please understand if I was unable to answer yours!

WHAT DO I WRITE?

x reader, my beloved i dont use y/n tho

Yandere. There are times I won't write yandere, but it's my blog's main trait.

Please read at your own risk. There will be warnings at the start of the chap!

Headcanons, one shots, and drabbles

Mostly SFW — Sexual themes are mild at most. I do not write smut.

My account is multifandom. I am in multiple fandoms, so expect my content to be different every once in a while!

☕support me on kofi!

MASTERLIST... LIST

PART I: Masterlist

Keep reading if u wanna request!

SO, YOU'RE AN ANON

You can name yourself as an anon! It's a nickname of sorts

Feel free to use a name even if it's taken! This is because I hop around fandoms, so anons may come and go, plus it's definitely an easier way to find your request (in tags) 😺

Think of your same-name-anons as like,, wow, u have the same name as me! siblings frfr??

FANDOMS?

I lurk in many fandoms. Not about to list them all, though 😭 Mostly I write about my current obsession! Almost always it's my blog theme :O

Please don't hesitate to ask from wherever fandom you are! There's no harm in trying! :) Except BNHA. Preferably, no anime. (With the exception of Dandadan)

Better yet, feel free to list down your fandoms in the comments! Anything that you would want to see yandere content in! Just so I can browse and maybe write for!!

LIMITS?

No problematic shipping requests.

Unfortunately, I don't do OCs (':

If the character is 18-, they can be aged up if you'd like, but strictly no NSFW, or in certain circumstances, romance. They're gonna be platonic.

I don't do intense gore. While I do have yandere content, I'm on the sorta wholesome side? Define 'wholesome' ... Implied scenarios are more likely😩

I write non-yandere stories too tho!

Minors, please stay safe. Don't go meddling around with adult spaces!

Sadly, I'm lacking in knowledge of other popular media, so if you happen to request one of those, I might not reply. Instead, I'll be keeping your ask until one day I check that media out.

Doesn't matter if the character is well known or not! Cuz I WILL attempt to learn about your request!

Except real life people. I can do actors with their characters, but never peeps' government names.

Part 2s are my weakness. I'm sorry. Doesn't mean you should try asking me tho!

WHY IS MY REQUEST TAKING SO LONG?

...college

If it's something I've never posted about yet, then it's either I'm not in the fandom, or I'm just clueless.

But other than that... sometimes I take days— weeks— months? to truly click with an idea.

I want to enjoy whatever I'm writing, so I take a break until an idea comes up.

And there's also the fact that I'm working on multiple things at once 😭😭 I tend to focus on easier ones first!!

Also I usually think of ideas at night c:

Worst case scenario: I truly have zero idea for your request, I'm so sorry 😔

NOTES ABOUT ME!

Yandere is my guilty pleasure, I fear🤕

HOWEVER, I do not, and won't ever, condone the behavior I will portray in my writing. Please don't misunderstand, don't romanticize. They are purely fiction and for entertainment.

I regularly change my theme (profile, colors, banner, etc.) just so you know.

This account is for everyone,, we're all just trying to find content of our favorite character fr— so please don't hesitate to request :)

As I close my eyes to sleep, that's when I start imagining scenarios for my writing!

erm skibid toilet

[shinakazami1]

I’ve received notice that there was a callout on me in the Stanley Parable Creator’s Club server and I would like to address it as I am a bit tired of people talking behind my back. I wasn't contacted by anyone from the server directly about the issue. 

The specific accusations were that I openly discussed a fic with NSFW themes to a minor, shared NSFW fic online without properly warning it for minors, and encouraged a self insert ship of one of my Narrator designs with a minor. 

These accusations are false, or blown entirely out of proportion. I have never intended to hurt people nor endanger minors and based on screenshots I've received, people have been spreading even more extreme misinformations, like me being a groomer. I want to tell the story with the mentioned earlier things, in hopes to clear up this matter and stop the harassment me and people received. 

1) Sharing NSFW Fic Online

I have been informed that I posted a link to my fic, "A broken promise", without a proper warning. 

I did put appropriate warning in the tags, however I did forget about archive warnings options and I misjudged that the T rating would suffice. I also had only mentioned the rape in tags and not in the ao3 warning. I will be more careful when publishing work in the future.

I've deleted the links on my posts and privated the work, as I do not want anyone else to get possibly harmed.

2) Filk

I was informed my never written fic was discussed in the discord as well with a completely incorrect premise and I would like to mention the idea to give people more insight into what it actually is supposed to be, despite the fact that it was never actually written. 

Filk (Fernator's milk) is based on a joke someone made from another fic of mine, "Bon appetit 1.5 - Chicken soup is served " where Stanley buys milk and pickles, and we called it pilk. Somebody made a joke that this is like a pregnancy craving and I decided that that would make a funny CRACK fic premise. Again, I never have written this fic, and the only place it ever existed was in a series of messages in a private discord.

The whole point of crack fics is that it has a stupid premise. In here, it was one of my Narrator's, Fernator, telling Stanley he would make him pregnant. I know that this sounds like the problem, but that was just a premise.

What really happens in the fic is that Fernator tells Stanley about human reproduction but after that, the majority of the fic is a sfw adventure on how viruses, bacteria, and plants reproduce. 

With bacteria, Stanley just gets copied, with viruses, Fernator creates a computer virus and it doesn't work so they move on, and with plant, the title filk comes in which is milk with fern spores in it. It ends up just in Stanley's foot. The end goal was for them to just get the cutout Baby as their child and then, the main fic that I talked about would end. After a while, they would realise they didn't really succeed and would try to make something, pouring filk onto Fernator and creating Pickle Rick.

The accusations of this being a non con confuse me as Stanley is happy to be brought onto this journey and there are no actual sexual activities involved in this not written project. 

3) Art with minor

One person was very supportive of one of my Narrators, Jester (they drew him a bit), and even started to call him their husband. Since they're my friend, I wanted to make them happy, so I drew something I deemed wholesome and platonic. They also took my drawing this way. 

In my eyes at the time, when I made the art, I never thought of this 'ship' as anything other than admiration for a design. 

However, that context got lost when they reposted my art on that server with my permission. 

I now see how people could think otherwise and I will be far more wary about this topic in the future.

However, while the announcement didn't use the exact word 'groomer', it highly implied it. I feel wronged for that as I received a lot of harassment in my direct messages. 

I would like a statement and an apology from the announcers because their words caused a lot of harm.

4) Conclusion

I want to finish this off with being honest about the mistakes I've made of not properly checking sfw spaces - which started all this - and talking about suggestive matters within them. The fanfiction link was certainly a slip up but I will be more careful in the future of what I post. 

However - I also want to say that it's not okay to harass people who got involved in this.

I myself have received false accusations already and seen my work be misinterpreted. I only learnt about this through buds giving me a notice and I do ask, if a similar situation would ever occur, which I don't plan on, to message me directly first about my mistake.

In the future, I will remember to double check where I discuss my fic ideas and I'll do everything in my power for this situation not to repeat. 

Thank you for reading.

[theemmtropy]

Beard Care, a Gale x Transmasc!Tav fanfiction

Rating: T, for implied sexual feelings. Nothing explicit!

Tags: Domestic, wholesome, transmasc/trans man Tav, second person POV, supportive Gale, facial hair shaving, shaving with straight razors

Summary: Gale shows you how to care for your new beard, reassuring you that he loves you for who you are. [This takes place after you return home with him.]

Yall know this meme:

In my head, this is that, but mlm and trans.

Read here, or on AO3. Hope you enjoy!

~

Adventuring has had its costs, but in the end, it has been worth it. Thanks to the generosity and gratitude of those you’ve helped, you’ve finally saved up enough money to begin transitioning with the magic potions available in Waterdeep. And the potions have been working wonders.

You wake up in the late morning, the bed cold beside you. Gale keeps odd hours, sometimes staying up late into the night- or waking up incredibly early- to work on a spell or ritual that has occurred to him. You don’t mind, as you often disappear into your own study to work on your own projects throughout the day. You two are alike in that regard: you’re secure enough in your relationship to know that even when you’re not spending time together, you’ll still be excited to share your work at the end of the day.

Getting up, you head to the bathroom to wash up and get dressed. To your delight, your scruff is starting to grow into a fuller beard, and you realize that you can ask Gale for advice on keeping it neat.

After getting dressed, you make your way downstairs to the kitchen to find your partner attempting to make pancakes- attempting being the key word.

“I don’t understand, what’s the difference between regular flour and bread flour?” You hear him mutter under his breath.

“Protein content, babe,” you answer, causing him to jump with surprise.

“Good morning love, didn’t hear you come in,” Gale says with a smile. “I’m afraid you’re out of flour…” He gestures to his apron and the floor, both of which are covered with all-purpose flour. An overturned mixing bowl rests on the floor as well, with little cat pawprints indented into the soft white dust.

“I take it Tara got a little antsy?” You ask, getting a broom and dustpan and sweeping up the majority of the mess.

“She thought she saw a mouse,” he responds, chuckling. “I intended to surprise you with breakfast in bed, but I suppose it’s too late for that now.”

You shrug. “It’s okay, I can just make us some Baldurian toast. But first,” you grab his hands and put them on either side of your face. “Feel.”

Gale looks confused at first, then a huge smile breaks across his face. “Tav! Your beard is coming in! Actually from the feel of it, it’s here! Oh how wonderful.”

He gives a kiss to both of your cheeks, and you feel your heart swell. Gale has always been supportive of your transition, had even helped you find a hospital that would sell you the potions needed. When you had first met, you’d been scared that he would find you weird, abnormal. But he’d never treated you any differently than he treated the rest of the party, had always given you respect- and once you’d started your relationship, more than respect. There is no doubt in your heart: Gale loves you for who you are.

“I have a favor to ask, before I get to breakfast,” you say. “Would you help me shave? I want it to look nice, groomed- like yours.”

“Well, I’m quite flattered- though not surprised- that my careful trimming has inspired you in your journey,” he responds, standing up straight and showing off his facial hair.

You laugh and roll your eyes, as he removes his dirty apron and sets it on the dining table. He then leads you back to the bathroom. There, he produces a straight-edge razor and shaving cream. “Now, do you want to do it yourself whilst I instruct you, or do you want me to shave you so you can see what it’s supposed to look like?”

You think about his hands on your face- his gentle, steady, lithe, practiced fingers. A thrill runs through you. “I want you to do it.”

He gives a mock bow. “Your wish is my command.”

You sit on the edge of the tub while Gale fetches a chair from another room. Then, once he’s sat opposite you, he lathers up the shaving cream and applies it to one side of your face. “I’m going to do one side at a time, so I can keep a grip on your face,” he explains, then brings the razor to your skin and gently- but firmly- begins his process.

“Now I will say,” he continues as he works, “I didn’t always know what I wanted to do with my beard. I tried a goatee, that was atrocious. I tried just a mustache, but it made me look too pretentious.”

You try not to laugh, worried about getting cut if you move too much. His free hand holds your head at an angle, his fingertips firm against your jaw and the base of your skull. He is so close, his eyes peering at every detail of your skin.

“I eventually found a balance and shape that followed the angle of my cheekbones, while not disrupting the balance of my facial features.” With this, he completes the one side, wipes any residue off, and then applies more cream to the other side.

You turn your head obediently, which prompts him to murmur, “Yes, good boy.” Your body heats up upon hearing this, but Gale doesn’t even seem to realize that he said it; his brow is furrowed in concentration, eyes never leaving your face.

After finishing the other side and wiping it off, he traces a finger under your chin, down your neck. “Shaving this part is optional, I often just leave it, but I can get it for you, if you want?”

In answer, you lift your chin, craning your neck back to stretch the skin out for him. Gently, he applies more cream, and then places a hand at the bottom of your neck, grasping ever so slightly to keep you still. The cold of the razor sends a shiver down your spine as you feel him draw the blade up your neck, stopping only when getting to the underside of your jaw. Then he repeats the process until your neck is clear of hair.

Wherever Gale’s hands touch, you feel your skin spark with life, with need. If he knows the effect he’s having on your body, he doesn’t indicate it. “There,” he says, pulling away once he’s finished. “Let me get you a damp cloth to rinse your face off, then you can have a proper look in the mirror.”

Your skin turns cold as he removes his hands, and you sigh, wishing the moment could have lasted longer. But when he returns with the washcloth, you quickly wipe your face, eager to see the results.

Standing up and looking in the mirror, you see yourself staring back, as always, but this time you feel more… you. Your eyes well up with tears of joy as you gaze at yourself, until you notice Gale staring at your reflection as well.

“You look quite dashing,” he says warmly. “Though, I’ve always thought so, of course. How else would you have been able to seduce me?” He adds playfully.

You crack a grin at him. “Why, I would have seduced you with all your favorite foods, naturally. Speaking of, I believe I promised you Baldurian toast?”

“Before we get to that,” he says, voice growing lower. “I can think of another intimate activity we should do first.”

You match his stare; there is a hunger in it, but not a hunger for food. “I believe I can think of one, as well.”

[frickingnerd]

longing for each other's warmth

pairing: jason grace x gn!reader

summary: you try on your boyfriend's shirt but he's a bit dense...

tags: suggestive, implied smut at the end, wholesome & silly fluff, established romantic relationship, smaller!reader

"how do i look~?"

you were wearing your boyfriend's shirt, the top of it unbuttoned, showing a little more skin than usual. his shirt almost looked like a dress on you, due to the size difference between you and your much taller boyfriend. 

jason looked up from the book he had been reading and smiled as he saw his shirt on you. you looked even smaller in his clothes than you usually did. 

he put the book aside, getting up and heading towards you. you started to grin like an idiot as he stopped in front of you, his hands grabbing the fabric. you thought he was going to unbutton the shirt a little more, but jason seemed to have something else in mind. 

"you'll get cold, my love" he smiled softly, as he started to button up the shirt and straightened the collar. 

you couldn't help but roll your eyes with an amused grin on your lips. jason was about to return to his book, when you grabbed his wrist and held him back. 

"maybe you could warm me up then~?"

[steddiemicrofic]

Steddie Microfic January 8th-14th Masterlist

Y'all are wild. More than half of this week was filled up before last week was even over. Cannot believe how much you guys are obsessed with hole (yes, I can).

Thank you to everyone who has participated so far!

Dying to Know You at Camp Green Lake by @super-cosmic-library | Rated G | no cw | tags: Holes au

Digging Holes by @stevesjockstrap | Rated G | cw: implied past child abuse

crawling out by @steddieas-shegoes | Rated M | cw: mention of addiction (nothing specific or detailed), mention of rehab, breakup | tags: rock star eddie munson, making amends, angst with a happy/hopeful ending, hurt/comfort, getting back together

Alpha Instincts by @skullrockbi | Rated T | cw: omegaverse

Reimagined by @hellfireloserclub | Rated G | no cw | tags: wholesome pre-relationship steddie

Untitled by @pearynice | Rated E | no cw | tags: fluff, established relationship, hurt/comfort, the softest sex

Safe by @wormdebut | Rated T | cw: sad boy steve, hurt/comfort

404 - Not Found by @zombiethingy | Rated G | no cw | tags: modern au, online friendship, pining

dangling by the quarry by @klausinamarink | Rated G | no cw

Untitled by @estrellami-1 | Rated G | no cw

We're Talkin' Baseball by @steddieasitgoes | Rated G | no cw | tags: steddie as dads, girl dads

love bites by @sidekick-hero | Rated M | cw: bloodsucking, vampire!eddie

Untitled by @machtaholic | Rated G | no cw

The Guilt of Courage by @mugloversonly | Rated G | cw: depictions of violence, angst | tags: steve has a good mom, post season 4

Hole-in-the-wall by @sidekick-hero | Rated G | no cw | tags: au, mechanic!eddie, steve 'always the goddamn babysitter' harrington, meet cute

knock twice by @starryeyedjanai | Rated E | cw: glory hole, anonymity

Hole in my soul by @lorifragolina | Rated G | cw: major character death | tags: angst

the sweater deserved better by @steddieas-shegoes | Rated G | no cw | tags: established relationship, fluff, crack treated seriously

Right Where It Belongs by @griefabyss69 | Rated E | no cw

this bar's a real hole in the wall by @starryeyedjanai | Rated E | cw: glory hole, anonymous until it's not | tags: dom eddie, sub steve

You Complete Me by @stevesbipanic | Rated G | no cw | tags: childhood friends, fluff

of swords and holes by @fuctacles | Rated G | cw: medical drugs | tags: transfem stevie, pre-relationship, mutual pining

A fish called blunder by @hellfireloserclub | Rated G | no cw

Mine by @sidekick-hero | Rated E | no cw | tags: unsafe sex, cream pie, cum eating

Play Me by @mrsjellymunson | Rated T | cw: suggestive language, mention of drug use (weed), deceased insect | tags: 90s au, meet cute, getting together, strangers to friends to more

even with the hole by @steddieas-shegoes | Rated T | cw: implied and brief mention of child abuse, past parental death | tags: getting together, first kiss, angst with a happy ending

untitled by @estrellami-1 | Rated G | no cw

Filler by @mrsjellymunson | Rated M | cw: dom/sub dynamics, suggestive language, implied subspace, porn-worthy plot | tags: strangers to lovers

sink. by @hotluncheddie | Rated M | cw: vulgarity | tags: established relationship, chubby steve, horny eddie

The Creature Lives by @hunter-sylvester | Rated T | cw: smoking, scars, trauma

Early Mornings by @a-little-unsteddie | Rated T | no cw | tags: first meetings, pre-steddie, zombies

it's subtle as a shotgun and heavy as a brick by @zombiethingy | Rated T | cw: dentist stuff | tags: no upside down, meet cute, bad flirting

no holes in his plan by @tboygareth | Rated G | no cw

Reborn: Facing The Unexpected by @berenwrites | Rated T | no cw

Fill Me (dom!Eddie) by @mrsjellymunson | Rated E | cw: suggestive language, dental procedures (not described in detail), praise kink, sub/dom dynamic, implied smut | tags: getting together, strangers to lovers

Fill Me (dom!Steve) by @mrsjellymunson | Rated E | cw: suggestive language, dental procedures (not described in detail), praise kink, sub/dom dynamic, implied smut | tags: getting together, strangers to lovers

The caddie by @medusapelagia | Rated G | cw: Collapse, heart attack

(You own) the whole of my heart by @katyawriteswhump | Rated G | no cw | tags: younger teen steddie, middle school au, sick fic, enemies to lovers

It's All in the Swing by @henderdads | Rated G | no cw

pothole by @ao3usermelancholyhues | Rated T | cw: sexual innuendo | tags: flirting

[nowoyas]

Koi no Yokan 1: the first impression matters most (Nishinoya Yuu/Reader)

Next - M.list - Ao3

A/N: so this has technically been up on ao3 for a month or so but I decided I'm simply going to post it on tumblr and live with less control over the formatting over here. for a more fun way to read, I highly recommend hopping over to the ao3 link above.

taglist is open!

Summary: Love at first sight isn't real. Whatever this Nishinoya guy was feeling when he proposed to you on sight, it wasn't love. And if you're wrong? All he has to do is propose another nine hundred and ninety-nine times to prove it. (nishinoya x fem!reader)

Warnings and Tags: fem, non gender-neutral reader, mental health + family issues, implied child neglect, hurt/comfort, coming of age, slow burn but like in a weird nontraditional way, gratuitous usage of footnotes

Word count: ~2800

p1. Love is real.

This one's simple enough. You grew up around your parents—hopelessly in love with one another, the romantic types put on this planet specifically to make their kids' life hell in a non-traumatizing, wholesome way, all sweet kisses and gross, get a room! to fill your childhood home. You've seen love. During at least one point of your life, there was love.

p2. Love takes work.

Also simple enough. Again we'll point to your parents—long nights worked by one or the other, working too hard, coming home to find you asleep on the couch with whichever parent was home for you. Bruised egos and hearts, fights that didn't need to happen but always would have, heated discussions whispered in the kitchen when you should have been in bed, but always always always coming back to each other. Separating from one another whenever there was yelling—keep the peace, come back when we can have a discussion. Trying to love you even when your grades fell too hard to overlook, but disappointed all the same, until you're yelling, until you don't fall asleep on the couch waiting for your mom to come home anymore, until you fall asleep studying at your desk listening out for your father, hoping tonight he'll be home before you finish your homework.

p3. Love must be earned.

—or at least, it can be lost. It'd explain the past two years. You lost his love, and you'll earn it back.

p4. If love must be earned and love takes work, then love at first sight does not exist.

Of course, none of this explains anything about what's taking place now, your utterly petrified classmate (one Yachi Hitoka, sits two seats in front of you, never interacted with) darting her eyes back and forth between you and the offender who could perhaps use a reality check against your worldview. For your part, the—question? demand? statement?—had the fun side effect of pitching your voice in embarrassment and disbelief, not to mention totally ruining the vaguely detached image of yourself you've very carefully cultivated over the years.

"I—uh—I'm sorry, what did you just say to me?"

p5. Love at first sight does not exist.

Although the other members of the Karasuno High School Volleyball Club wear expressions currently ranging from disbelief to exasperation, you're not entirely convinced you've heard the offender correctly until he steps forward, chest puffed out without a hint of self-doubt in his eyes.

Point of interest: as far as you were aware, volleyball is a sport about really tall guys yelling a lot and hitting a ball just real hard, and this one doesn't seem to have the height or the shoulder muscles for that. If your first impression is anything to go by, at least he has the volume. He's got a small build—lithe, even, and it's hard to tell with most of his teammates dropping their heads into their hands, but you'd say nearly everyone else here is a good head taller than him at least. It'd explain the hair: save for a little bleached tuft hanging down over his forehead, he's gone to the trouble to spike it, adding a few centimeters to his height total. All in all: confusing, but not unattractive.

c. Therefore, this is not love at first sight.

"Sorry," he says, tilting his head with a wide smile that doesn't look very sorry. "That might've been a bit rude. Please marry me?"

Yeah, that's what you'd thought he'd said, alright.

Shimizu, the gorgeous third-year who'd brought you into this line of fire, lets out a long-suffering sigh. One of the other guys is now on the floor, both hands threaded through his hair.

Point of disinterest: this behavior is clearly the offender's usual.

"Are you stupid or something?" the silver-haired guy on the floor finally manages to say, stage-whispering in utter disbelief. "Seriously, are you just a complete—"

Impulse: Have fun with this.

It's not that you really intended to cut the guy off—honestly, for all you care, he can yell at his teammate or anyone else all he wants. Hardly your problem. But—

I mean, how are you not supposed to laugh?

This is who you are: logic and impulse at war. Doubled over laughter, immediate stock taken of the situation, and, just because you appreciate his initiative, you let yourself speak without thinking too hard about it, full-body laughter subsiding to giggles as you meet his eyes. "You know what? How about you let me finish introducing myself and ask me that… oh, I dunno, we'll say a thousand times or so, and then I'll think about it. 'Kay?"

The offender—your suitor, you suppose—gains an extra centimeter of height at the words, eyes lighting up his face in a way that might actually be dangerous to someone with a few less brain cells to spare. He looks ready to say something, but stops himself. Nods firmly, mimes zipping his lips as though to let you know you can continue.

You stifle a lingering giggle, take a deep breath, and smooth out your uniform skirt carefully. You know how to smile and know how to charm and now you've got a reason to be just interested enough to bother with either. "O-kay. Um, I'm [full name]. Like Yachi-san here, I'm in class 1-5. It's a pleasure to meet all of you!"

"Nice to meet you!" they shout in eerie, overly-loud unison, bowing to the both of you. Beside you, Yachi nearly shrieks, hiding behind you a little as Shimizu steps forward to ask them not to scare the shit out of you both. To their credit, everyone seems genuinely confused as to what could possibly be startling about suddenly being yelled at by twelve or so guys standing around you in a semi-circle.

As for you?

You adjust your uniform bow carefully, suppressing a smile.

Maybe this "managing a club" idea won't be as bad as you thought.

~

Okay, point of order: it's not that you thought managing a club would be bad, necessarily. It's more that, well—look, pretty third-year approaches you in the hall while you're barely paying attention, assumes you're walking with some other random girl in your class, and you're looking for any excuse to stay out of the house as much as you can, anyway, so why not waste a few minutes this afternoon and some more tomorrow? It's not like you're agreeing fully to join or anything. And Yachi, at least, seems nice, though you're a little sorry she's been lumped with you.

You'd decided to make it up to her with a tepid offer of friendship, if for no reason other than to reassure her you don't want her dead (which appears to be a serious concern of hers?), but in the three minutes it took you to draw this conclusion and walk up to her desk, you'd been absolutely steamrolled by two of the club's first years from yesterday (Hinata: short, loud, springy, insists that you drop all honorifics for him. Kageyama: tall, quiet, blunt. Appears to just be along for the ride.) and somehow ended up jointly tutoring the two in English.

The days that follow give you no opportunities to learn any further names—your attention splits neatly between trying to figure out how volleyball even works and not fucking dying whenever a hit or whatever goes out-of-bounds. You'd been right about the yelling, mostly right about hitting the ball really hard (the really tall first-year sometimes hits the ball Not Hard, and your suitor doesn't seem to hit the ball at all?), and wrong about the guys needing to be tall (Hinata, for one, and most of the other guys are only tall in direct contrast to you).

That's about the extent of what you've gotten so far, beyond a bruise or two in preventing Yachi's soul from leaving her body. The guys seem to want to prevent those, but they're certainly not perfect. As for your co-trial manager, she is the very definition of skittish, and thus far has confided in you the following:

someone may want to kill her for standing next to Shimizu for several uninterrupted minutes (fair, Shimizu is extremely pretty)

the coach is going to kill her (maybe a bit narrow-minded—the Sakanoshita cashier is plenty nice, even if he does look a bit scary)

someone here is going to break a finger or perhaps an arm (yeah, no way to counter that one. It's athletics.)

someone here is going to unintentionally break her face with a stray volleyball (perfectly reasonable. You keep an eye out on her behalf.)

Despite this, she connects to the others far better than you ever could. When Hinata's study session with the three of you results in a boosted quiz score, he notices her before you and drags her into the hype session, allowing you to sneak on by while they cheer together. That's fine. You can't really match their energy, anyhow. Every now and then, though, she gets this look or makes some offhanded comment that makes you think she probably won't stick with managing.

For your part, you aren't really decided either way. The Karasuno High School Volleyball Club is full of… well, people. They're all different, you can't keep anyone straight, and while they're certainly polite enough in small doses, as a group, they overwhelm you with an energy that reminds you why you've never really gotten into sports before.

Your suitor is perhaps the worst offender of this—everyone gets louder around him, either out of necessity to be heard or simply because he seems to raise the energy levels of whoever's standing closest to him. He seems to be the root of about thirty percent of the volleyball club's total volume, and his boundless energy is extended your way whenever possible. Without fail, sometime between your feet crossing the threshold of the volleyball gym and getting your shoes on each day, he'll shout your name, followed by a full-chested compliment about how great you look today. It was unsettling for two minutes until you saw him take a flying leap at Shimizu in hopes of hugging her and end up getting slapped instead. For now, you'll take it as a relief that no additional marriage proposals have come your way.

You don't know whether to be disappointed that your suitor apparently is just your average horny teenager and you're not exactly special or relieved that, at least, you're not ugly enough for him to discredit you as an option entirely. If nothing else, it's hard to sense any sort of real threat from someone so openly and earnestly interested in anyone who breathes.

This is what you tell Shimizu as the three of you walk home after practice, the third time in a week she's apologized to you for his behavior. She's not the only one who has—the captain, a taller, average-looking third year, and the vice captain, the pretty third year with the silvery hair, have both gone out of their way to apologize on his behalf, as well as one of the more responsible-seeming second years. Each one has offered, repeatedly, that they can make him shut up if you want them to, but you've staunchly refused.

"I mean," you tell them each time, "he's harmless. All he's doing is complimenting me and like, little helpful things like helping me up. But I'll take you guys up on that if he actually crosses a line."

What you don't—won't—admit to Shimizu or Yachi, and will never admit to any of these guys, is simple enough: you like the attention. You like having a reason for your cheeks to feel a little hot. You like feeling like someone wants you here, like someone's not just being polite because they haven't yet found a reason to be rude.

The morning of the first day of your second week of this little trial membership, and like clockwork, your suitor is already in the gym, already fully awake like he actually rests when he sleeps or some completely batshit concept to that tune. It's six-something in the fucking AM. Normal people should at least be a little groggy right now, but here he is, running right up to you with a brilliant smile that makes you feel like squinting.

Then again, you suppose normal people aren't the type to propose marriage before you even get your name out.

"Good morning! You're looking lovely as usual today!"

You huff softly, open your mouth to mumble in some sleep-deprived reply, and end up cutting off in the sort of yawn that hijacks your full body to make its point. When you've recovered, you nod to him, rubbing the corner of your eye. "Sorry. I don't think I'm real for another twenty minutes or so. Mornin', Senpai."

Your suitor goes uncharacteristically still, jaw dropping as he stares at you. Suddenly self-conscious, you run through your memory of the past week. You'd assumed he was an upperclassman, not having seen him on the first-year's floor at all and having noticed that he seemed to be one of the more solid members of the team. Were you wrong? "Um… did I say something wrong?" you ask at last, hoping on hope he doesn't detect the nerves in your voice.

At your words, he seems to snap out of whatever stupor he'd suddenly gone into, shaking his head furiously. Unless you're mistaken, his face is turning a lovely shade of red, though you can't fathom why. "Uh—no! No, nothing's wrong. I mean, you didn't say anything wrong! You're—perfect, you're perfect, sorry, I—" He clears his throat, clutches a fist at his chest. You're starting to think he's having some kind of medical issue. "I'm not entirely sure you've ever done anything wrong in your life, actually."

You stifle a nervous laugh, tilt your head a little. "Um…?"

"Okay, sorry—I'm good. Perfect. Fine. Please marry me."

Ah. Alright, then.

A bit more laughter bubbles out of you, less nervous this time. "How about this: you tell me what your name is, because we still haven't been introduced properly, and ask me that nine hundred and ninety-seven more times, and I'll think about it."

The star-struck look on his face gives way to the brightest smile known to the human race. He holds out a hand for you to shake. On the record: your stomach does not flutter in reply.

"Nishinoya Yuu, at your service. Will you really marry me if I ask you a thousand times?"

You take his hand. Shake it carefully. Wonder if this is what dying feels like: no struggle, just letting happen what will happen, feeling strangely overwhelmed for no reason at all. "Hey, I said I'd think about it."

His hand's warm. It lingers in yours for just a moment before he drops the hold. "Challenge accepted, then. I hope you're ready."

You snort, wave him off as you head over to greet Shimizu. "Sure, sure. We'll see how long it takes for you to give up, yeah?"

"If that's what you're holding out for, you're gonna be waiting a while," he calls after you.

You toss your head back with a laugh. "We'll see about that!"

Koi no Yokan¹ (恋の予感): "premonition of love" or "love at second sight". in contrast to love at first sight, koi no yokan refers to the sense when meeting someone that falling in love with them is inevitable.

Footnotes

1. I spent a lot of time digging for the origin of this phrase and it appears to be attributed to a quote from one Nicola Yoon. I'm not certain that 恋の予感 is actually a Japanese concept the way that "love at first sight" is a concept in certain English-speaking cultures, and my research into this only turned up, like, BBC articles and an album by the American alternative metal band Deftones, so it's possible that this phrase is more of an Orientalist hallucination of Japanese culture more than it is a real thing.² Regardless, I truly love the concept, and I could not think of a more fitting title for this fic, so I am proceeding with the given interpretation.

2. For what it's worth, the BBC article I found does ask actual Japanese speakers about the phrase and claims it's common nowadays in shoujo manga circles. One of my good friends reads mostly shoujo manga and is more fluent in Japanese than I am, and I had to explain the concept to her, and also, no one can point me to any specific examples, so I don't really have any strong evidence that this is actually true. (Any examples of this out in the wild are more than welcome in the comments; I'm genuinely curious about this.)

Tags: @deeplightgarden @idonthaveanameideayet @dusstory

[spicybylerpolls]

Hey all! Welcome to spicy byler polls, where we post polls for the byler community to answer that are, you guessed it, spicy. Basically any polls you wouldn't submit to the main byler polls account, and any polls you'd feel too afraid to ask on your own blog.

Yes, of course, that includes polls related to the devil's tango, but not necessarily limited to that. Can include headcanons about their first time, questions about specific fanfics, what a hypothetical implied sex scene would look like in S5, them making out sloppily, what their individual feelings towards sex would be like, etc.

Submissions are currently open.

Please note that the purpose of this blog is not to be creepy or to make anyone uncomfortable. That's why I created the #spicy byler tag (I will tag all polls with this). If you don't want to see this blog or anything related to it on your feed, please block that tag. Not everyone is comfortable with this sorta stuff, and that's okay.

PLEASE use discretion if you submit a poll. Yes, the idea is to not shy away from the taboo and the "problematic" aspects of Byler, but within reason. If the poll goes too far, it will not be answered. Disclaimer: for all polls on this blog, you should assume that Mike and Will are aged up to at least the ages of Steve/Nancy in Season 1 (or older). And this should go without saying, but everything here is within the realm of consensual, wholesome, romantic sexuality. Sexuality includes sex, and so this blog rejects purity culture.

Please format your polls with numbers or letters if you have more than two answers. And if you have a question about Mike or Will respectively, please submit two different asks.

Thank you! Stay safe, and have fun! :)