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thehatboxwitch · 1 day ago

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very honoured to have inspired this wonderful work!!

Helloo~

"Moments of Weakness" as in the reader taking L's left and right by being uncooperative with the yanderes. This idea was cooking up in my mind for a long time, and then I got heavily inspired by @thehatboxwitch for the post, specifically this one. I ate that up, such a good piece, mwah (づ ̄ ³ ̄)づ

The Amphoreus men and Jiaoqiu? Yes, I know, odd combo. I was done with the first three but then I got an insane inspo surge to write for the fox man as well, and thus this piece was born. I haven't really written short-form content ever, so this is like a test run for me. Let me know if you vibe with it!

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Characters include: Mydei, Anaxa, Phainon and Jiaoqiu

CONTENT WARNINGS INCLUDE: Yandere content (ALTHOUGH this is not on the heavy end of the spectrum. It's kind of fluffy), cisfem!Reader, unwanted touching, manipulation, the JQ one has periods and a vague mention of sexual stuff (but nothing explicit).

Disclaimers can be found in my pinned post.

˗ˏˋ ★ Mydei

You wake up on the cold, hard floor of your room in the high tower of Castrum Kremnos. Judging from the limited view you have of the sky through the window, the time must be somewhere between midnight and the early hours of the morning.

You’ve barely been able to get any sleep at all, truth to be told. The piece of clothing you gathered into a ball hardly served as a substitute for a pillow, and your neck has gone painfully stiff from the odd position you have rested in. Your back aches, and a faint rash has formed on one of your shoulders where it has been pressed against the coarse ground.

You prop yourself up on your elbows. In the darkness, you’re only able to make out the silhouette of the man lying on the bed. Mydei’s back is turned to you, and his body steadily heaves up and down in the rhythm of his breathing. He seems to be fast asleep.

The soft, plump mattress has never looked as tempting as it does now. Your shared comforter is partially hanging off the side of the bed, drooping just out of your reach.

In hindsight, the obstinacy you demonstrated earlier tonight by demanding to sleep on the floor was beyond ridiculous. Mydei let you know that then, telling you how childish you were being, but your pride got the best of you. Though, as you recall his harsh words and the dour clicks of his tongue, you’re still of the opinion that your reaction was at least somewhat justified.

You rub your hands up and down your arms in an attempt to warm yourself up. Not having been granted the luxury of a blanket on the floor, your extremities have gone cold and numb. Shivers of nightly fatigue rake your skin. You huff to yourself.

Mydei’s form stirs. He lets out a rough exhale before turning over on the bed to face you. His piercing gaze fixates on your pitiful form.

”Stubborn woman”, he derides you in a groggy voice, propping his head up to rest it against his palm. ”You prefer to suffer rather than swallow your pride?”

”Shut up”, you answer with equal spite.

”Get in the bed and rest your night peacefully”, he then commands, sweeping his fingers over the empty spot next to him.

”I said shut up, Mydei.”

You fluff up your make-shift pillow and settle back down on the ground, turning your back to the man. Despite the way the reddened patch on your shoulder aches, you simply tug your sleeve over it and call it a day.

Mydei scoffs at you before rolling back over. You silently celebrate the small win, but you can’t deny the way your fatigue-struck mind weeps when you peek at him and come to find that he has pulled the comforter further away from you. The action is deliberate on his end, no doubt, and you can’t help but clench your teeth in bitterness.

You’re so tired. You’re so fucking tired, but there’s no way you’re going to let him have what he wants. Mydei truly excels at bringing out your mean side: Pleasing him is the last thing you want to do, and if that comes at the cost of sleeping on the ground, so be it. You settle your head on the clump of cloth and close your eyes.

But there’s no chance you’re going to get any sleep as you are. The truth is quite apparent, and it stings, but the sheer exhaustion you feel is dulling out the little wrath that remains in your being.

Not even a minute after, you slowly push yourself off the floor, careful not to make any sound. Not that you actually succeed in the latter — Mydei could probably even hear your heartbeat from where he’s lying if he tried hard enough — but it’s more for your own sake than his, anyway.

Judging from how he has gone back to resting, he’s probably weary enough not to get mean. You cautiously rise on your toes to peek over him, trying to catch a glimpse of his face, but you’re unable to determine if his eyes are open or not.

The mattress dips as you set your weight on it. You stifle a sigh of relief as you finally get to bury your head in the thick cushions, to pull the covers over your freezing form and soon allow yourself to drift into a deep slumber. Though, a wrench is thrown in your plans as you’re only able to get the comforter halfway across your body: The thing is stuck under Mydei’s broad back.

He doesn’t move an inch as you wordlessly tug on the blanket. It’s quite obvious that he’s being difficult on purpose, that he wants to make his point as much as you want to make yours, and damn is it getting to you.

”Mydei”, you hiss out his name.

He doesn’t react. If you didn’t know better, you would think that he has fallen asleep again, but taking the context into account, you’re a hair’s breadth away from snapping at him.

”Mydei!” you repeat a little louder, smacking your hand against the pillows, right next to his head. No response.

”Mydei, for fuck’s sake-!”

Your sentence is cut short as the man suddenly lunges at you, catching you completely off guard. The strained yelp you let out is muffled by his bare chest as he pulls your body flush against his. In a split second, his arms wrap around your back, effectively trapping you in place.

His skin is searing hot against yours. The hem of your shirt is dragged up as he plants the palm of his hand on your upper back. For good measure, he swings one of his legs over yours to keep you still. All of it happens in a single moment, and he doesn’t grant you the time to do anything about it.

You consider protesting. There’s no escaping Mydei’s squeeze; his hold is much too tight, but he might give up the fight if you put up enough resistance. You could scratch at him, you could start screeching at the bottom of your lungs, and eventually, he would be bound to become irritated enough to let you sleep on your own.

But the warmth. The heat that emanates from his form is nearly blissful. It seeps into your frigid limbs, lulling your sleep-deprived mind into the comfort that is his protective embrace. Your body turns against you.

You allow your shoulders to fall lax. Slowly, your hands pull back from where they were shoving against Mydei’s ribs mere moments ago. In response to your new-found obedience, he strokes his thumb along the curve of your shoulder blade, further encouraging you to relax against him. He lets out a content exhale against the crown of your head.

In the back of your mind, your ego is sobbing at the loss of yet another battle against your captor. Nevertheless, you let yourself sink into the comfort of the bed, deciding to save the fight for when the morning arrives.

˗ˏˋ ★ Phainon

There’s something off about his usual smile today. The way he’s looking at you from where he leans against the wall with his arms leisurely crossed, there’s something off. His gaze is fixed directly on you, keenly following your every movement as if he’s expecting something of you.

”... What?” you ask him, peering at his form, though your words come out as more of a comment than a question.

”Hm?” he tilts his head to the side with a tad bit too much excitement in his expression. ”What’s up?”

Your brows knit together. Doubting his sincerity, you’re almost scared to turn your back to him as you scan the room with your eyes. Although, after a quick look, nothing too obvious seems to have changed: You let your gaze wander over the couch, the bed, the door, the-

”Phainon, what happened to the chairs?” you point at the vacant spot under the table.

”Ah, those!” Phainon pushes himself off the wall and walks over to the bed, sitting down with one leg propped atop the other. ”I put them in the kitchen.”

You squint your eyes at the man.

”And why would you do that?” you gesture at the now empty floor.

”Mm, no reason.”

Phainon shrugs in a rather innocent manner, but the smile on his features tells an entirely different story. So, you continue scrutinizing your surroundings, carefully looking over each and every piece of furniture until your eyes land on the nightstand beside the bed.

”The book?” you turn your attention back to the man. ”Where did you put the book?”

”Oh, I put it up there”, Phainon responds, nudging his head towards the bookshelf beside the door.

You follow his gaze all the way up the highest ledge on the shelf, and there, you spot the familiar piece of Okheman literature you’ve been invested in for the past couple of days. As you put the puzzle pieces together, Phainon’s scheme becomes quite apparent to you.

”... Really?” you ask him, spreading your arms in disbelief.

”Hey, don’t be like that”, Phainon gives you a sympathetic look. ”Do you need help reaching it?”

You let your hands fall back to your sides. Then, you close your eyes and take in a deep breath to calm the exasperation that threatens to boil over inside you. Instead of lashing out, you silently make your way over to the shelf and pick out a random piece.

”I’m good, thanks”, you tell Phainon in a dry tone.

”Oh, alright”, he gives you a smile in response. ”Let me know if you change your mind.”

You roll your eyes at him. Making your way over to the couch, you plop down on the cushions and open the book on the first page.

It’s in a completely foreign language. You don’t understand a single word plastered on the paper, but it’s much too late to put the thing back on the shelf now. Even without looking, you know that Phainon’s attention is on you, and you don’t dare to even glance at him to make sure in case he gets any ideas. You wonder what Aeon you have angered to have been granted such rotten luck when it comes to standing your ground: It seems that no matter what you do, he always gets his way.

You don’t even know if you’re holding the book the right way up. The symbols are all squiggly, and you don’t have as much as an educated guess on what the text is about. A sigh makes it past your lips. If there’s anything positive to be found in the situation, though, it’s that most likely, Phainon is none the wiser about it. Why he even has a book like this in his home, you don’t have the slightest clue. Moreover, he doesn’t seem like the type to read in his free time, either, so the chances of him recognizing the cover are quite low — at least you hope so.

You make the mistake of peeking at him. Sure enough, the couple of bright blue eyes are eagerly observing you from where the guy is sitting on the sheets. His gaze doesn’t fail to meet yours for a brief moment just as you turn your head away.

Time has never moved at such a slow speed. The seconds drag on and on as you pretend to be invested in the intelligible story in your hands. You let your eyes travel over the rows of characters as if you were actually reading, but you can’t help the way your attention strays to the sight of your original novel sitting at the top shelf, far out of your reach. With each moment passing, the little patience you have left drains out of your body until you have none left.

You smack the book down on the couch with a huff. Phainon visibly perks up, and you can almost imagine a fluffy tail wagging wildly against his back.

”I changed my mind”, you speak out, standing up from your spot and walking over to the shelf. ”Help me get the book.”

”Sure thing”, Phainon is quick to rush to your side. ”I thought Kremnoan poems might not be to your taste, heh.”

You bite the inside of your lip and pray to whatever deity is watching over you that the blush isn’t visible on your cheeks.

”This one, right?” Phainon rises on his toes to pick the familiar hardcover from the top ledge before handing it to you. ”There you go. What do we say?”

”I’m not gonna thank you for that”, you snap at him, snatching the thing off his hand and pulling it to your chest.

”Too much?” Phainon answers the show of defiance with a smile. ”Heh, you’re so cute.”

You flinch a little as his hand lands on the top of your head, ruffling your hair until it resembles a bird’s nest. His touch then trails lower to your cheek where he strokes his knuckles along the bone.

”My pretty thing”, he sighs with contentment.

˗ˏˋ ★ Anaxa

Never in your life have you had to fight this hard to stay awake. Not once, at any point, have you been this determined not to let your lashes fall shut as you listen to Anaxa yap on and on about some academic discovery he made a year or two ago. Truth to be told, you haven’t been listening to a single word, and you don’t have the faintest idea on what he’s going on about.

Your train of thought is so sluggish that you’re barely aware of your surroundings, and your head is throbbing hot. In contrast, the rest of your body is shivering, practically trembling from the cold. It doesn’t seem to be the room, though: Anaxa doesn’t appear to be the least bit bothered by the temperature, having stripped himself of the cloak he usually wears. You would like nothing more than to burrow under the blankets on your shared bed and sleep for the next three days.

But you have to stay awake. He promised that if you were to stay up until 10, the two of you could go for a quick walk in the Grove. He hasn’t ”had time” to take you outside in nearly a week now, and you’re not about to miss a chance like this. Being trapped in a small space and forced to endure the man’s presence is a challenge in a league of its own, and if you were a person of any weaker resolve, you would’ve gone insane ages ago.

”— and that would be the reason why”, he concludes.

The last two minutes of his monologue could as well have been spoken to a wall. It’s difficult to concentrate on his words through the haze that drowns out your senses. Your muscles ache terribly, and your entire body is drenched in clammy sweat. You feel so miserable that the thought of giving up the fight seems almost euphoric, but you’re not about to back down now that you’re mere moments away from the clock striking the next hour. The victory is so close that you can almost feel the fresh, crisp outside air on your skin. It’s only a few more minutes away; a few more minutes of holding out against falling off your chair.

Anaxa’s hand enters your field of view where you’ve been blankly staring at the table for the past half an hour. He taps his index finger against the wood to catch your attention, and it takes you a good few seconds to even register the action. You raise your gaze, slowly blinking a couple of times before your eyes land on his form.

”Can we go now...?” you ask him. As desperately as you’re trying to hide it, your voice tells on your fatigue as you speak.

”We agreed on 10 PM, did we not?” Anaxa tilts his head to the side, towards the clock on the wall.

You don’t have the energy to talk back to him. He’s so infuriatingly punctual when it comes to just about anything that you wonder how the pink-haired priestess is able to stand his company for more than a minute. You only give him a half-hearted, joyless smile in response before going back to staring. He sighs.

Anaxa’s chair creaks as he stands up, walking out of your sight. You pull your knees up on your seat, pressing yourself into a little ball in order to preserve the little warmth you have left in your body. You don’t dare to close your eyes even for a moment in case the fatigue were to catch up with you. Instead, you remain in your spot, as still as a statue and barely conscious.

A cold hand comes to touch your shoulder from behind. You’re much too slow to turn around before your vision is obscured as he reaches for your face. Gently, he gathers your hair off your forehead and presses his fingers against your heated skin.

”How long were you planning on keeping this facade of yours up?” he then asks, his hand moving a little lower in favour of checking both sides of your cheeks as well.

You don’t respond to him. Instead, you only let out a quiet sigh.

It’s obvious; you’re running a sky-high fever. There’s no way of getting around it — the best remedy to a sickness such as this is rest — however, your desire to go outside is much greater than any flu you have caught.

”I’m feeling okay”, you lie through your teeth, bending forward in order to rid yourself of his touch.

”Preposterous”, Anaxa comments in his usual, stark tone of voice. Not paying mind to how you’re clearly trying to withdraw from him, he moves the collar of your shirt aside in favour of pressing his hand against the back of your neck, feeling for the temperature. ”One such as you ought to know better than this, no?”

”I can wait until 10”, you insist.

”Is that so?”

He pulls away from you. You follow him with your eyes, watching as he makes his way to the door in quick strides.

”Well, then”, he beckons you towards him with his fingers. ”Let’s be on our way.”

You grasp the back of your chair with both hands, summoning up the strength to see the endeavour through. Your entire body trembles as you begin pushing yourself off the seat.

Anaxa observes with curious eyes as you manage to balance yourself on your wobbly legs. For a moment, he can see the way your face lights up at the success, but your joy is short-lived: He merely quirks his brow when one of your knees gives out, and you topple down on the floor a mere meter away from the table.

He lets out a mix of a huff and a laugh. You’re quick to scramble back up, trying your absolute best to find your footing, but the sight of him is spinning, and your limbs have gone numb. It doesn’t take more than a few seconds for you to slump back down on the ground, defeated.

You don’t do as much as raise your head when you hear the clack of his heels approaching you. Instead, you only listen to your own, rapid heartbeat rushing in your ears as Anaxa crouches down beside you and sets his hand on your waist. Carefully, he helps your limp form off the ground and snakes his arm under your own.

”The walk shall have to wait, it seems”, he says, failing to do a very good job at concealing his glee.

”But you-, you promised that we could...”, you protest, wearily turning your head towards the clock on the wall. It’s a minute past 10.

”Do you truly think you’re in any state to even entertain that idea?” Anaxa scoffs at your words. ”Go on, then.”

He loosens his hold on you, and you immediately reel to the side. Just to make his point even more clear, he lets you attempt to find your balance, but it’s a futile effort. You end up clinging to his shoulder for dear life. A mocking chuckle slips out of his mouth.

”I thought as much”, he says.

You really want to bite back, to go through with the plan, to go walk a single circle around the house even if it lands you in the bed for the next month. You need to, for once, prove him wrong, but alas, it seems that he has won this round. You swallow down the lump in your throat.

”Help me”, you whisper out, hanging your head low.

”This once”, he responds.

˗ˏˋ ★ Jiaoqiu

You’re balled up on the bathroom floor, clutching your arms around your stomach. Beads of sweat adorn your forehead, and despite your efforts, you’re hardly able to control the rhythm of your breathing. The time of the month has rolled around yet again, and for the past two hours, you’ve been battling perhaps the worst period cramps of your entire life.

You’re aware that if you so wished, the relief to the pain would be a single question away. Jiaoqiu is just on the other side of the door, working on some herbs or something, you’re not really sure. Considering his Foxian blood, he most likely knows of what’s going on, but the damned man won’t do anything about it, of course. Not unless you walk up to him yourself and ask for his help, anyway.

Another cramp takes over. You stifle a groan and lean forward, planting your forehead against the cold floor tiles. In the awkward position, you rock your body back and forth until the pain diminishes to a little less excruciating level.

It’s quite obvious that you can’t go on much longer like this. As much as you detest the idea of leaning on your captor for help, he’s the only one who can aid you. You wonder if he has hidden the painkillers from you for this exact purpose: The man is as sly as, well, a fox, and no trick is too cheap for him when it comes to getting you where he wants you. He’s beyond unfair.

You blurt out a hushed curse word as you rise from the ground, hunched over and still holding your abdomen. Taking a peek at the mirror, you come to find that your face has lost its colour, and you look like you haven’t rested in a week. The latter is no wonder, though, since you weren’t able to get much sleep last night due to the present problem.

Being as quiet as you’re able, you press your ear against the door. There isn’t much to be heard on the other side of the wall, but you can make out the faint clinking of dishes touching against each other. Jiaoqiu has been busy conducting the same task the entire morning, and it seems that he’s still occupied with it. Dread brews in your stomach as you consider the possibility that he’ll outright refuse to help you: Considering his personality, it’s not above him, and it wouldn’t be the first time he weaponized matters out of your control.

”Aren’t you making this unnecessarily difficult for yourself?”

Your heart jumps at the sound of his voice from behind the door. How he could have heard you, you don’t know, but then again, his kin is known for their keen ears. Moreover, you realize that there’s no hiding your current condition from him: Your options are either-or, and the responsibility of taking the initiative seems to have landed in your arms.

Yet another cramp strains your body. You clench your teeth and endure the pain, but at the same time, your hand reaches up for the door handle. Deciding that enough is enough, you push yourself out of the bathroom.

”Oh, there you are”, Jiaoqiu comments at the sight of you faltering out of your retreat. He can’t actually see you, of course, but his head still turns towards you as if he did.

”Give me something”, you beg through pursed lips as you fold in half over the threshold. ”Please give me something for this.”

Jiaoqiu’s expression turns into that of compassion, although you can’t say for sure if it’s genuine.

”One moment, please”, he says, setting the mortar and pestle in his hands on the tabletop.

He opens one of the cabinets above the counter and reaches for something in the back. Carefully, he pulls out a small bowl from between a row of bottles. By tilting the dish from side to side, he stirs the concoction until a few darker specks appear on the liquid’s surface. Then, he brings his hand over it, and in a flash, the thing lights up in flames. However, just as quickly, the fire disappears, and he’s left with a cup of steaming hot soup.

”I tried to go easy on the spice”, he says as he fans his fingers over the bowl. ”It’s quite warm, be careful not to burn your tongue.”

He makes his way over to where you’re balled up on the ground. With a gentle touch, he coaxes you to raise your head enough for him to place the dish against your lips before tilting the cup.

It’s good. The rich liquid flows down your throat as you drink it with greed, paying very little mind to how the heat scorches your mouth. He didn’t lie about being mindful of the seasoning — it’s much less spicy than what you’re usually forced to endure — but your taste buds are still left begging for mercy. Nonetheless, you couldn’t care less, and the soup is gone in a matter of seconds.

”It should only take a few minutes to kick in”, Jiaoqiu says as he pulls the now empty bowl away from your lips. ”How are you feeling?”

Bad, terrible, deplorable, godawful, but you don’t tell him that. Instead, you only let out a shaky exhale as you slump back down on the ground.

You feel Jiaoqiu’s fingers creep along the waistline of your bottoms. For a brief, horrific moment, you think he’s about to initiate the carnal, but instead of slipping his hand further down, he lets it rest over your lower abdomen.

”Is it in the middle or more towards one side?” he asks as he tenderly presses his palm against your stomach, warm and pleasant.

”Hey, don’t-, don’t...”, you’re about to start protesting, but the complaint dies on your tongue as the man’s touch dulls down the worst of the ache.

He seems pleased at your compliance, and he rewards you by caressing the back of your head with his free hand. For once, his closeness doesn’t feel completely intolerable.

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