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jaylaxies · 1 year

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THE PATH TO A NERD’S HEART

PAIRING: nerd!jay × fem!reader

GENRE/CW: sub!jay, dom!reader, smut, fluff, unprotected sex, public sex, slight biting and marking, mentions of bullying, room sharing, kissing, handjob, mentions of sunghoon

WC: 8.1k (8169) words

SYNOPSIS: the annual debate competition was just around the corner and you were thrilled to meet your partner, who turned out to be park jongseong. from you studying together to him asking you how it feels to kiss someone, how would your relationship progress? especially when you offer to give him a demonstration, even more so when he asks if he could get a bit more.

WARNING: 18+ content, minors dni

A/N: hihi, angels! I'm back with another fic! i've re-edited this fic and i’m reposting as per the request of my anonnie! i hope y'all will enjoy this! :3 all likes, comments, reblogs and feedbacks are highly appreciated! it keeps me motivated! iloveyou all <3

“What have you done to her?” The principal sighed in distress, slightly turning his head, glancing at the girl who sat next to you with an expression filled with misery, a girl with a broken nose to be more precise.

“With all due respect, sir, she was bullying a student, which clearly goes against our school policies, and further, she tried to punch me when I asked her to stop. She had it coming,” you calmly explained the whole situation, fake politeness dripping off your tone.

The girl next to you screamed like a maniac after hearing your statement, flailing her arms and legs, claiming that you were the one who attacked her first. She never failed to show her spoiled-child behaviour in public.

“I request you to please check the surveillance camera of the corridor, it'll make it more clear to you, sir,” you faked your smile as Hana Lee, the bully, started crying, knowing that nothing could save her from the upcoming punishment now.

She was soon dismissed to go to the medical room, her wound bleeding, yet she didn’t show a sign to stop protesting.

“Miss Y/N, I understand that what Miss Lee did was wrong, but that does not give you any right to punch her.” He looked at you with an expression that clearly displayed disappointment.

“It was just self defense from my side, sir,” you said with wide eyes, plastering your most innocent face in front of him, wanting to leave his office as soon as possible.

He sighed, “you’re one of our top students, miss Y/N, and I appreciate you caring for the other students, but please refrain from using punches next time. You can leave now.”

You finally smiled in victory, muttering a ‘thank you’ before grabbing your bag and rushing out of the office.

As you got out of the office, a hand immediately grabbed your wrist, causing you to widen your eyes at the sudden gesture, your own hand curling its fingers to punch until you saw who it was.

He softly pulled you to the empty staircase area.

“I’m sorry,” he slowly whispered, he had a busted lip and red eyes, the sight made your heart hurt, a frown settling on your face.

“Jay! Oh my god! Does it hurt?” You asked, hand extending towards his face.

You barely knew the boy, in fact, your first ever proper interaction with him took place this morning.

“You shouldn’t have stepped up for me,” he sighed, eyes not meeting yours as he looked at his shoes, confused as to why you would help him.

“I don’t care what you say, I cannot stand bullying, Jay,” you simply told him, getting closer to see his wound, the wound caused by Hana.

Now, the question is: How did you reach here in the first place?

Let’s start by replaying the morning events.

The yearly Inter-school English debate was two months away from now. Meaning, that you’ll soon know who your assigned partner is for this year’s competition would be.

Your English teacher had asked you to meet her, so you made your way towards the staff room. You greeted her as soon as you saw her, eyes soon moving to observe a guy with specs standing next to her.

“Y/N, c’mere! Meet Park Jay, he’ll be your partner for this year’s debate competition,” your teacher explained.

You smiled, extending your hand which he shyly took into his bigger ones, “nice to meet you, Jay.”

Your radiant smile caused Jay to crack a small smile of his own, “it’s really nice to meet you too,” he said.

Further, the teacher explained how your school won’t be the host for the debate this year, instead, the Busan branch will be the one to do so.

Conclusively, she informed you that all your expenses will be paid by the school, except for the extra souvenirs you would purchase there for yourself.

You listened to it all, giving small nods at the end of her sentences, your eyes also shifting to look at the guy standing next to you, his gaze focused on what your teacher was telling.

A hotel will be arranged and she will accompany you both for your two day trip to the competition.

“The topic will be provided to you both soon, I hope both of you will get along well, please don’t hesitate to ask for any sort of help from me,”Ms. Hwang smiled at you both and ensured that you were okay with this setting.

Park Jay. You knew him, of course you did. He’s always been exceptionally smart in studies, him being the only one in school who matched your own pace.

The only difference between you was his shy nature. Your nature screamed enthusiasm and boldness, hence, making friends came easily to you. You were one of the popular students, not to mention how you were good at academics too, which was also paired with your kind nature.

However, you didn’t know much about Jay, except for the fact that he was good at studies and closed off, with little to no friends at your school.

This piqued your curiosity.

After Ms. Hwang left, you turned to look at the shy boy, asking him if he’d be up to eat lunch with you, to get to know each other better.

His eyes slightly widened at your suggestion and you theorized it must be because he never eats with anyone else, which worried you as you thought you had crossed a line.

His small smile just after, ensured that it was not the case, “I’d love to,” he said, and you noted how sharp yet cute his smile was.

The whole student body was shocked to see Jay interacting with the popular girl herself, their eyes fixated on your table.

It wasn’t your concern though, you were enjoying having a simple conversation with him, asking him about his hobbies. He got excited that you were willing to talk to him, not forcing yourself like the other students did. And he tried his best not to show how excited he was.

He told you about his love for fashion, his smile growing at each word he spoke, you found his deep voice pretty as you paid attention to everything he had to tell and offer.

He stopped his sentence midway, looking at you as you stared at him with shiny eyes.

“I talk a lot, don’t I?” His shyness came back to him all of a sudden.

“No! I think that it’s really beautiful that you’re so passionate about something, I could hear you speak about it for hours,” you reassured him, reaching forward to hold his hand which was kept on the table.

He breathed out softly, gulping at the sight of your joined hands and your reassuring smile, his cheeks heating up and a sudden warmth spreading through his chest.

Just one conversation and he already wanted to trust you, to spend more time with you, to get to know you better.

He looked forward to it all.

You wanted the same, to get to know him better. Jay was cute effortlessly, and you were quick to notice that even slight proximity made him nervous to the point his ears got red.

You found it adorable, promising yourself to keep a check on him to make sure he doesn’t feel lonely at school anymore.

So, when you saw Hana cornering and punching him for not completing her homework, you knew you had to step in.

He watched how you pushed her away from him, standing as a barrier between them both. He noticed how you raised your voice at her, the demeanour completely changed from the sweet one which you had in the morning.

He noticed how you didn’t hesitate to block her punch, your own hand swiming to counter punch her instead with no regrets whatsoever.

He stood there in awe, he knew was thankful to you, however, he was too shocked to even form words.

You turned back to look at him, his lip bleeding and his bloodshot eyes made you worried and angry at the same time.

Before you could say anything to him, you were dragged to the principal's office.

Which brings you back here.

Jay silently cried in front of you, “you don’t deserve this,” you softly said with a sad frown before hugging him

His hands grabbed your waist as he softly weeped into your shoulder, your hand rubbing soothing circles on his back.

You weren’t sure how long Hana had been bullying him into doing his homework, but now, you had this sudden urge of wanting to protect him, your hands tightening around him.

He calmed down after a few minutes, body still holding on to you.

“Thank you,” he softly whispered, taking a step back, his eyes meeting yours for a second before he turned away, rushing to leave.

He did not stop when you called out his name, thrice.

You sighed, stuffing your hands in the jacket pocket before leaving for the next class.

The boy never left your mind no matter how hard you tried to concentrate on the lecture.

The news had spread all around the school as the newest gossip. Some said that Jay was your new boyfriend, while some assumed you to be his bully. Nevertheless, no one bullied him after Hana got suspended for using violence in school.

Soon after, the theme for the debate was announced and Ms. Hwang had called you both to inform you about the same.

You observed his face, seeing him for the first time after that incident and you were glad to see that all his wounds were healed and didn’t leave any scars.

When he felt you looking at him, he turned to look at you, smiling softly to say hello.

After some minutes of general discussion with your teacher, she left you both alone as she had to grade other test papers.

You never brought up the topic of Hana again, only paying attention to the debate. Jay kept on glancing at you from time to time.

“Thank you,” he whispered shyly, passing you a bottle of your favourite drink, which made you tilt your head to look up at him, “I wasn’t sure what you liked so I asked Sora,” he rushed to speak, mentioning how he asked your best friend about it.

“You didn’t have to.” A smile graced your face at his sweet gesture.

He felt more confident talking to you now, and he even attempted to make silly jokes just to see you laugh, which you did, heartily at that.

Your hand grabbed his arm as you tried to support yourself while laughing. He found it beautiful and he wished to hear your laugh more often. Your hand felt soft on his arm, sending tingles to his stomach.

You hugged him softly before leaving, your sweet scent sending Jay into a state of frenzy, his ears turning red while his heartbeat felt faster than usual.

Being teased was like a routine for you now, your friends did everything in their will to constantly remind you how 'soft' you have gone for that nerd kid.

“Your jealousy is showing,” you smirked at Sunghoon, who repeatedly mentioned Jay in each of your conversations.

“Of fucking course! You haven’t kissed me in weeks,” he retorted.

It had been a while since you ended your friends with benefits relationship with him, you just couldn’t do it anymore, it felt wrong to you, seeing how attached he was getting with your setting.

Yet still, you decided to humor him this time.

Laughing at his pouty face, you grabbed his chin as you kissed him, trapping him against the lockers and he eagerly kissed back, not caring if anyone saw you both.

The makeout session was short lived as the bell was quick to indicate the time for your next class, a groan leaving his mouth as he punched the locker, muttering how nothing works in his favour.

You left him there, a boyish smirk spreading on his face when you winked at him.

You were breathless, but then you realized why you had left this in the first place, the guilt seeping deep inside you, knowing that it would lead him on if your suspicions were right.

You’ll say no the next time, that’s what you decided, not paying attention to the lesson the entire class.

You didn’t like him, you just needed a distraction from a certain someone who invaded your mind at the most random times.

You weren’t going to use Sunghoon as a distraction anymore.

You couldn't.

Jay met you at the library after school, for research purposes and collecting further information on your topic to be prepared as much as possible.

“Hey,” you smiled, hugging him, which had now become a usual thing for you two.

You noticed how he was a bit hesitant somehow, his arms not pulling you closer like they always used to.

Not paying much attention to it, you both got inside and searched for your respective books and topics, noting down all the information you needed. No words were exchanged for a long time, your focus solely on the text in front of you.

“How does it feel?” A whisper was heard from beside you.

“Excuse me?” You asked, looking up at Jay, confused at his unusual antics and sudden silence. “H–how does it feel to kiss someone?” He completed his sentence, not looking up at you while he kept fiddling with the hem of his uniform sleeve.

“Wait, you saw?” You asked him, eyes widening as you thought that he might have gotten the wrong impression.

You realized that he might have seen you kiss hoon earlier today, hence his question.

“Have you ever kissed anyone before, Jay?” You enquired slowly, not missing the way his eyes turned big for a second.

“N—no,” he whispered.

“Have you ever wanted to try it?” You softly asked.

Jay was probably the purest person you had ever met, the thought of corrupting him kept on swimming in your mind, the fact that he might want to try something with you made you smile.

“Will it be fine?” he hesitated again, “isn’t he your boyfriend?” He asked, referring to Sunghoon.

“What?” you almost shouted, apologizing once you got looks from the nearby students.

Maybe the library isn’t the best place for such conversations.

“He’s not my boyfriend, Jay. We’ve had something but it was not a relationship,” you revealed.

He listened to you with all his attention, a small smile on his face when you told him that you were single, which you didn’t fail to notice.

And he nodded, saying that he wants to try. His ears were red, which you found adorable.

“Of course, we’ll stop the moment you feel uncomfortable, yeah?” You assured him.

“But, here?” he kept on asking like a kid, his heartbeat beyond control as he tried not to seem too flustered.

You laughed, “we’re meeting at my place tomorrow, right? We can try it out then, if you’d be comfortable with that,” you suggested and he agreed shyly, nodding and looking down at his fingers.

You only looked at the pretty boy next to you, wondering how far he would want to go with you.

Jay was overwhelmed by the fact that you agreed to kiss him, he had been staring at your lips ever since he saw you kiss sunghoon in the morning, deeply wishing that it was him instead.

It was pretty strange of him to think this way, but he couldn’t stop, especially when he saw how you took control of the kiss, tilting Sunghoon’s head to the side and kissed him deeply.

You saw him looking dazed as you were about to leave, his actions being so cute, which left you wanting to fluster him more.

A cute yelp left his mouth as you softly pecked his cheek, tiptoeing to do so, before bidding him goodbye.

He blushed a lot in general, but you being around him took it to another level, you found it adorable to say the least, excited to see how he would behave tomorrow.

The next day, Jay woke up early. He wanted to look perfect, to smell perfect, to be perfect for you. Not that he needed to do anything, yet he did some extra research for the debate and printed them out for you, to make up for the time you’d invest to kiss him today.

He paid more attention to his clothes, for this would be the first time you would see him without his usual uniform. He even devoted his time to do his hair, finally reaching your place at the exact time you had given him.

Releasing his breath and cussing once, he rang the doorbell.

You were quick to rush down to open the door, not wanting him to wait for long, chuckling when you saw how he rang the bell at the exact time you had given him.

His breathing hitched as he laid his eyes on you.

It was the first time he saw you looking this comfortable as you wore a soft and loose top along with sweatpants.

“Jay! Come in,” your enthusiastic voice dragged him out of his daydream as he nodded.

He followed you like a lost puppy, “are you home alone?” He couldn’t help but ask.

“Oh, yeah! My parents come home late,” you explained with a wink, “don’t worry, baby,” you said and he almost passed out with the nickname you had used.

You smirked at his state, making him sit on your bed.

“You look good,” you complimented seeing his attire and he muttered a small thank you, a shy smile spreading on his face.

He likes to be praised, you noticed.

Without much delay, you started scripting your research papers. Jay noted how you were always serious when it came to studies and the competition, he paid attention to the way you bit your lower lip while concentrating.

Some part of him wanted you to do the same to his lips, he waited patiently for you to remember your promise to kiss him but you never once brought it up, his mood turning sad.

Taking the matter into his own hands, he spoke up.

“Can we—” he took a deep breath as you stared at him with big doe eyes, urging him to continue.

“I—it’s nothing actually.” He backed away.

You laughed, “I didn’t peg you to be the impatient type,” you smirked, well knowing what he wanted.

Closing your laptop, you urged him to come near you, patting the space next to you.

“We’ll start off with a simple peck, yeah? Pinch me if you feel uncomfortable and I'll stop,” you told him and he shivered as you got closer to his face, gulping his anxiety down.

“May I?” You finally asked, searching his eyes.

“Y—yes,” he whispered, nodding.

Softly placing your hand on his cheek, your lips touched his lips in a short peck. They merely touched, yet it was enough for Jay to get butterflies, heart beating out of his chest at the sensation.

You leaned back to observe his reaction, he still had his eyes closed, a soft rosy glow spread on his cheeks.

Getting closer again, you grabbed his chin, tilting his head as you dived in to kiss him, longer this time, your lips moving in sync once he got the hang of it, low whine leaving his mouth, making you smile.

You wanted to play with him even more.

So, you gently bit on his lower lip, causing him to gasp, giving you enough opportunity to taste him.

It felt so right yet, forbidden somehow.

You had invaded all his senses, you pushed him down on the bed, his eyes looking at your every move as you made him lean against the head frame, you sat down on his lap and he cussed.

“Does it feel good?” You asked with a small, teasing smile.

“Fuck, y—yes it feels so good,” he whispered out.

“Yeah? So good that my good boy is using bad words now?” You teased.

“Please,” he whined, “sorry, I’ve never done this before and it just, it felt so good I couldn’t help it,” he rambled and you shut him up with a peck.

“Lord, you’re so adorable. It makes me want to ruin you,” you breathed out, brushing his hair away from his forehead, gripping his chin and running your thumb on his swollen lower lip.

His heartbeat sped up at your words again, head dizzy as he said, “please,” and you pulled him into a deep kiss for the second time.

Your fingers softly tugged on his hair, finally causing him to moan out loud, his pretty voice resounding all over the room.

You both pulled back from the kiss after a few minutes, breathing hard and deep to come back to your senses.

“How was it?” you asked him in a gentle voice, sitting down next to him, slightly worried if you had gone too far for his first time.

His stare on your face and silence only made it worse.

“Can we do that again?” He asked after a few seconds, trying not to sound too shameless, but he couldn’t help it, not when you had offered to kiss him so nicely.

He slowly pulled the hem of your top, and you understood, coming back to kiss him, your hand on his jaw, as he shifted his position for you to take full control.

He laid underneath you as his heart pounded harder than ever, he could only focus on how soft your lips felt against his mildly chapped ones, his eyes closed as he took in everything you were willing to offer.

The said practice of your debate ended with you making out with Jay, he didn’t wish to stop, not even after his lips were swollen, his eyes shining as he looked at you as if you were a goddess.

He had to excuse himself when his cock felt painfully hard, he was beyond embarrassed and you looked at him with hooded eyes, holding yourself back before it gets too much for him.

“Here’s the washroom,” you guided him, “let me know if you need help,” you said with a smirk.

“I—thank you,” he rushed to go inside.

You knew what he was going to do, and you wished it was you who’d be the one to please him instead, his voice wasn’t silent when he took your name, as he reached his orgasm inside the washroom.

You chuckled, wondering how he’d look while doing so into your hand. He left soon after, face red and hot.

It left him wanting more.

The debate was a week away from now, and you both were well prepared for it yet, you kept on studying from your notes. That wasn’t your concern right now though, a certain nerd had occupied your mind from the past few days.

You found it adorable how he would request you to kiss him in the empty classroom, his room, or any place where you both were alone, he wanted you guys to be alone together.

You were corrupting him, and truth being told, you wanted to corrupt him even more.

Jay had always been attractive, his knowledge was a plus point to it all. You absolutely loved his shy demeanor, no matter how comfortable you both got with each other, he could not help but blush around you.

Meanwhile, Jay was confused. He had never had girl problems before, so why did it feel so different when it came to you? Even more so when you were so good to him.

He loved how you took care of him in the most minimum way possible, you made him feel like he mattered, giving him motivational speeches (and your kisses were a cherry on top).

He knew it really well that the other students wanted to date you, or they wanted to be closer to you. Why wouldn’t they? You were perfect in their eyes, but this did not stop Jay from wanting more. He wanted you to claim him yours. You were beyond perfect in his eyes.

But he wondered if you’d ever be willing to like him back, to be with someone like him. Kissing was one thing, maybe you did it just to make him happy, but more?

He could only wish.

“All participants from the same school will be given one room to share, will it be okay for you both?” Ms. Hwang informed you both, also asking for your comfort.

Jay stiffened, he was sure to lose control if left alone with you at night.

“It’s alright for me ma’am,” you smiled.

“Yeah, for me too,” Jay shakily let out.

He wanted this, he finally decided, he’d even go as far as confessing his feelings for you.

“Alright then, I’ll see you tomorrow morning, right?” Ms. Hwang confirmed as you both nodded, you had to leave early tomorrow for the competition.

As you walked back home with Jay, saying that you’d drop him off, you spoke, “are you sure that you’ll be comfortable?” you asked as your fingers were interlocked with his, giving him butterflies.

“You’ll take care of me right?” He asked in a low whisper, suddenly stopping and looking at you.

He definitely meant more than the normal care but you were willing to give him anything.

“I will,” you promised with a smile, “I’ll take care of my pretty boy,” you said before pecking his lips and leaving him blushing on the sidewalk.

The next morning, he didn’t have to wake up, for, he didn’t get to sleep. That’s how excited he had been, the fact that you were going to be in the same room as him at night made him blush.

His excitement only grew when he saw you at the station wearing a skirt, it was short lived as Sunghoon came into view, holding your hand, holding your luggage with his other hand.

Jay frowned at the sight.

Sunghoon looked like your boyfriend with this setting, he did not like it a bit.

You spotted Jay in a second, smiling and hugging him without thinking much, it was not returned though.

You bit down your smile, making him jealous seemed like a great idea to you, knowing well how adorable and needy he is.

Naturally, Hoon got a cheek kiss as a goodbye while Jay had a frown plastered on his face, almost like a pout.

Your teacher came to the station soon, informing you that her seat is not near you both and telling you her seat number so you can approach her for anything you’d need.

You nodded and thanked her before getting into the train, which arrived right on time.

You sat down next to him on the express train, which gave you two hours to spend with him.

“What’s wrong?” You innocently asked him, your hand resting on his thick thigh.

“N—nothing.” His breath hitched as your hand neared his upper thighs.

You softly massaged that region, “you’ll be a good boy and tell me, won’t you?”

He shivered with the tone you had used, your hands making him feel weak in the knees.

He rushed to keep his backpack on his lap to hide his private area in case something went wrong.

He whined your name as quietly as possible, “tell me what's wrong, baby?” you asked again.

He grabbed your hand, staring at you with doe eyes as he placed it high up on his thigh, near to his hardening cock.

“Not so fast,” you said as you moved your hand away, “you’re not getting anything until you tell me what’s bothering you,” you urged him.

“I was jealous,” he whispered, red adorning his face.

“Yeah? Go on,” you hummed, softly brushing your fingers in his hardened and clothed member.

The thrill of you touching him in public only made his cock hard.

“You kissed Sunghoon,” he whined, placing his head on your shoulder, trying to calm himself from the pleasure he was receiving.

“Yes I did, and what about it?” You sped up, placing your hand on his cock, thankful that he had covered himself using the bag, so that others won’t be able to see you both.

It caused him to squirm in his seat.

“I—I wanted it too,” he struggled to form words.

“Being needy, are we now?” you chuckled as he softly moaned into your neck.

“What more do you want, pretty boy?” You asked, pleasuring him.

“Your kisses, y—your touch and—ah! You,” he barely spoke.

“That’s my good boy.”

You continued your actions for a few minutes, allowing him to release his mess without you having to touch him directly.

You looked at him in awe, you wanted him to be yours. Your baby boy.

“You did so well, baby,” you cooed at his teary face, kissing him swiftly.

“Go and clean up in the washroom, yeah?” You said and he nodded, somehow making his way towards the room.

He was clingy the entire ride, and it made you smile as you gave him all your attention.

“Did you like it?” you questioned.

He bit his lip, “yes, I did,” his answer was short as he was shying away again.

“How cute,” you said, “get me a list of things you like, yeah?” you requested him just before getting off at your destination.

The whole ride to the hotel was silent as your teacher was with you both, Jay still couldn’t think straight, his mind going back to when you touched him and how devastatingly good it felt.

“Here’s your room key, you are both free till tomorrow, so you can roam around a bit but be careful! Don’t forget to meet me at the same place at 11 am sharp with your proper attire on tomorrow,” Ms. Hwang commanded and you both nodded, leaving her to settle in her room.

After washing up and changing into comfortable clothes, you both sat down side by side at 9 pm. You noticed him writing something, but didn’t ask what it was, only looking at his face which had a cute pout, an expression he held whenever he was focused.

You settled down and scrolled through your messages on the phone to pass your time, even though deep inside, you wanted to spend time with Jay.

He soon came up to you, calling your name softly as you looked up at him.

He gently placed a note in your palm.

“I made the list,” he said, referring to the time you asked him to make a list of the things he liked back on the train.

You raised your brows, “come here,” you patted the place next to you before you grabbed his chin, making his heartbeat rise again.

“Let’s see now.” Holding the note in your other hand, you started reading, “degradation and praise kink? Oh, so you want to be called a dumb slut now?” you saw him nod and shiver, enjoying the way you called him a slut.

You wanted to ruin him.

“Choking? Who would have thought that our president ‘good boy’ would be into such filthy stuff,” your hand traveled from his chin to his neck, putting in a bit of pressure just enough for it to feel pleasurable.

Jay whined at the constricted feeling yet his eyes never left your face.

“You wanna be tied up? Cuffed even? And used as I wish?” Your eyes widened after reading his fantasies, the list amusing you beyond words.

You knew that Jay was willing to try stuff but you never expected it to be this wild, you loved it and you bit your lips as you looked his way.

“Please?” He requested you, eyes innocent.

“What do you want me to do, baby boy?” you finally asked as he gulped, coming closer to whisper something in your ear.

“Want you to touch me, please.”

“Like this?” You pulled him closer by the neck, your hand traveling down from his torso to his lower abdomen, and you noticed how he shivered with your touch.

“I—yes,” he let out desperately.

Switching to a better position, you got close to him, almost sitting on his lap as your fingers further trailed up to his mouth.

He was quick to part his lips, taking them in and sucking on your two digits, your head tilting as you noticed how devoted his look was, tongue swirling around your fingers.

“How cute,” you commented, amused with the boy, the same boy who you thought was innocent, however, that wasn’t the case.

All he wanted to do was to please you, and he wanted you to call him yours.

Your other hand rested on his thigh, soon going up and resting on his hard on, causing him to moan around your fingers.

“My needy pup, do you want me to take care of you?” You asked, loving how he reacted to your touch.

As you softly touched him through his sweatpants, he unconsciously jerked his hips forward, suppressing a moan.

“Let me hear it, I need your answer,” you slowed down your actions, causing him to whine.

“Yes! I w—want that so much,” he said out loud, as you took your fingers out of his mouth, wrapping them around his throat.

“Good, now, don’t move, and don’t you dare suppress your pretty noises, am I clear?” you asked for confirmation.

He nodded swiftly as you removed his pants.

His hard member came into view, thick and veiny, begging to be touched. Jay bit back his moans as you teased his tip with your thumb, your fingers wrapping around his length before you bent down to softly swirl your tongue on it, your eyes never leaving his.

“Fuck,” he cursed out loud as you took him in your mouth.

“Good boys don’t use bad language, do they?” You said slapping his dick. Your slender fingers gripped his neck again, this time capturing him in a passionate kiss.

“Y—yes,” he whispered against your lips.

“Open your mouth,” you ordered and he complied, you spat in his mouth, observing how it traveled down his tongue, “swallow it.”

And he did, opening his mouth again to show you the same, causing you to smirk.

“Such a good slut for me.” You kissed him as he whimpered at the degradation coming out of your sweet mouth.

He also whined at the lack of your attention to his cock.

He was needy, and you loved it. You had wanted to take care of him from the very start, seeing the boy in front of you, all naked, you wondered how he’d look full of your lipstick marks, which you’ll leave on his sweet hickeys.

You slowly started stroking his cock again, taking him in your mouth whilst massaging his balls. His breathing got heavier by each second, face red and voice shaky as he took your name sweetly.

Tears stained his rosy cheeks due to the immense pleasure he received, it was unlike ever before, his hands never felt this good, this perfect.

What made it better was the fact that it was you who was touching him, who was making him go crazy.

He liked you so much.

You felt him twitching and you got down to take him in your mouth before saying, “cum in my mouth baby boy,” and he did, moaning your name in the process as you hungrily gulped everything he had to offer.

You got up with a small smile on your face, seeing how he had closed his eyes, lip bitten and his chest heaving up and down.

You softly cupped his face, his eyes opening with your gentle touch.

“How are you feeling?” You asked him with a small smile, thumb caressing his cheek.

“Euphoric,” your laughter bloomed at his answer, a shy smile on his face, “can we do more?” He asked.

Your eyes softened at how vulnerable he looked at the given moment, and you knew if you’d do more, then you’ll probably won’t ever let go of him.

You kissed his forehead, “win that debate with me tomorrow and I’ll give you your victory gift, alright?”

He whined, not wanting to wait till tomorrow, but agreed nevertheless.

“C’mere, let’s get you cleaned up.” You took him to the bathroom, asking him to stay still as you cleaned him up, ensuring that he felt okay and you laughed whenever he felt ticklish at your touch.

“Can we cuddle at least?” He asked before sleeping, he loved being close to you. He had given you most of his firsts without any hesitation, and he was willing to give you even more. You grinned and took him in your arms, you both drifting off to dreamland soon.

Jay’s heartbeat clearly out of control as he only got closer to you, taking in your scent and watching you sleep, softly saying.

“I wanna be yours.”

The next morning was in a frenzy as you both tried to cramp up last minute information before your awaited debate.

Jay kept shying around after last night, and you had to pull him back and ask him to look into your eyes, making him laugh.

You couldn't help but notice how hot Jay looked in a black blazer, wondering if it was the same guy who begged you to touch him last night.

More importantly, you were also aware of that one girl who kept staring at Jay as you waited for your turn at the big auditorium where the competition was being held.

She was just behind you in the line, meaning, she might be your rival team for the final round, where you had reached with ease, courtesy of Jay.

Not being able to handle her constant stares and shy whispering about Jay, you rolled your eyes as you turned to him, calling out his name.

He turned to look at you, his face looked so innocent it made you want to smile, that’s the exact second you decided to peck him, tips of his ears turning red instantly

“W—what was that for?” He asked wide eyed, checking if someone saw you both.

“Just a good luck kiss for my baby,” you spoke loud enough for the girl to hear. A satisfactory smirk rested on your face as you saw her frown from the corner of your eyes.

Your turn came by soon, you listed out all the cons about the given subtopic with Jay smoothly.

However, you got stuck at the doubt round where the judges had to ask you questions, it was smooth until that one last question came up, which you had no idea how to answer.

You looked at Jay with worried eyes, but he kept his composure, remembering that particular piece of information from that one morning he made extra notes before going to your place, which he answered with full confidence, earning applause from the seated judges, and also you, a proud smile adorned your face.

You were sent back to the waiting area where you gushed about how cool Jay looked while answering with such confidence.

“It’s nothing,” he said, trying to act as if his ears weren’t turning red at your compliment.

“You’ll always be my shy baby,” you gently laughed.

He adorably rested his head on your shoulder as you praised him for being so intelligent while waiting for the result declaration.

“Now, for the most awaited first position, congratulations to ms. L/N and Mr. Park, from the Decelis Academy, Seoul!” The announcer declared.

You hugged him with joy, taking his hands in yours as you went on stage to accept the trophy, your teacher cheering and clicking pictures of you both from the audience seat.

Jay was overjoyed, somewhat because of winning the competition, but mostly for the reward that awaited him tonight. You both hugged again and got your trophy, Ms. Hwang treated you to dinner afterwards, being proud of you both and informing your principal at once.

Now that you were alone in your hotel room, without any distractions, you could easily see through Jay and how he was trying his best not to mention the reward you had promised you’d give him.

You smirked.

“My baby is so smart, shouldn’t he be rewarded now?” You asked, getting closer to him as he gulped down his nervousness.

“Please,” he breathed out.

“Please what, baby? Use your big words to tell me how you wish to be rewarded?” you encouraged him.

“Please, I want you,” he whimpered.

Your hands wandered around his torso, unbuttoning him one by one just to test his patience. He started helping you unbutton him, but you stopped him grabbing his cheeks.

“Did I give you permission to do anything?” You asked sharply while he shook his head, saying no.

“Be a good boy for me, yeah?” He nodded as your lips captured him into a deep kiss, your fingers gripped his hair while he held on to your waist, low hums and grunts were heard as you started grinding on him.

“Fuck me, please!” He cried out loud,

“Undress me,” you ordered.

He shakily took off your white blouse, leaving you in your lace bra, his eyes fixated on your body, and how pretty you looked in lace.

“Can I touch you?” He asked for your permission, you nodded.

He removed the remaining of your clothes and softly trailed his fingers down your body, as if trying to memorize you. Holding his hand, you guided him towards your wet pussy.

“Prep me, baby,” you instructed him as he hesitantly touched your core, spreading your juices in a circular motion.

He observed how you bit down on your lips and closed your eyes. Getting further validation from you, he pushed in a finger, slowly pumping it, he soon added another digit, his fingers curling inside of you sending you into bliss.

You felt your high nearing, “fuck, Jay I want to cum on your cock,” you said switching your positions so that you were straddling him, he cried out loud as your wet cunt came in contact with his throbbing dick.

“Moan louder, babyboy, tell everyone who the winner is tonight,” you said against his lips.

That let him loose, lewd sounds filled up the room.

“Louder,” you encouraged him, finally letting him enter inside you.

Your walls clenched around his thick member, adjusting to his size. You looked at him for permission.

“Please, you can move,” he allowed you.

Without wasting much of a second, you started riding him, your tits bouncing up and down in the process.

Jay couldn’t think straight anymore, his mind was corrupted by you, small dumb mumbles leaving his mouth and he loved how you were being equally soft and rough with him, considering it was his first time.

“Moan louder before I stop,” you threatened him, finally causing him extra stimulation when you clenched around him.

The pleasure was enough for his tears to run free, his cheeks blotchy with red speckles all over, and he moaned, just like you had wanted him to.

“Good boy,” you kept muttering, loving his sweet and needy voice.

“Let me cum, please?” He asked for your permission.

That is when you got off him.

“Not so fast, baby,” you replied with a peck on his lips.

Harsh whimpers left his mouth as you slowly stroked his leaking dick for the next few minutes.

“Please,” he begged after he couldn’t take it anymore, his dick twitching with how close he was.

“Impatient slut,” you slid into him again, your walls contracting around him, it was too much for him to take in.

You fastened your pace, “I’m about to—” he cried.

“Hold it in,” you warned, loved how he closed his eyes shut.

It was so fun teasing him.

You decided to be a bit gentle with him now that he was close, just like you.

“Cum inside me, love,” you encouraged

With a few more bounces, and his thrusts from below, he muttered a string of curses, emptying inside of you as you reached your high just a moment later.

You cupped his cheeks, not getting up but looking deep into his eyes.

“You did so well, I’ll arrange a nice hot bath for you to relax, yeah?” you softly caressed his cheeks.

He weakly nodded, still high from the activities done minutes back. Soon, you helped him into the tub, sitting on his lap as you softly washed his hair for him while he stared at you with stars in his eyes.

“What’s it?” you quietly asked, a small smile on your face.

“Thank you,” he pecked you, this time with adoration, catching you off guard as your heartbeat rose.

“I did nothing,” you smiled at him as he returned it.

You traced his red bruises, applying lotion to them and giving him a massage as well. Jay was thankful to say the least, eyes on your face.

“You’re staring,” you noted.

“You’re pretty,” he said, lowering his eyes as he did so.

“God, you’re so cute.” You kissed him softly, a shy smile gracing his face as you wrapped him in a towel.

“Come on, let’s sleep,” you patted the space near you.

“Can we cuddle?” he excitedly asked and you brightly nodded, taking him into your arms.

The room was silent, however, it felt comfortable, especially when you could feel Jay’s warmth in your arms.

“Y/N?” He called out your name.

You hummed, “yeah?”

“What are we?” he asked as he sat up to look at you.

“What do you mean?” you asked, also sitting up.

“I—what’s our relationship?” he gulped as he asked that, not sounding too confident, wondering if he’d be rejected.

“What do you want us to be?” you questioned, raising your brows.

Being with Jay was like a rollercoaster, you had grown a liking to him, more than you would like to admit.

His demure ways made you adore him, but he never hesitated to put a brave front for you and those cute efforts of his made you fall for him even more.

“I want us to be more than just friends,” he admitted.

You had bewitched Jay since the day you first talked to him, and the feeling only grew. He looked forward to spending time with you and soon it turned into yearning. He wanted to hold you in his arms and call you his, not wanting to share you with anyone else (ahem, Sunghoon), the phase might have been of only two months, but that was enough for him to fall for you.

“What’s more than friends?” you teased.

He pouted without even trying to, wondering if you were trying to ignore the topic because you didn’t want him, but seeing his expression, you frowned.

“Be my boyfriend,” you suddenly blurted out, not regretting it after.

Jay’s eyes widened comically, “w—what?”

You took a deep breath and laughed lightly, “Jay, baby, you’re so precious to me. Fuck! I like you so much, please be mine?” you expectantly stared at him.

His lips turned upwards and into the biggest smile you had ever seen on his face as he leaned forward and kissed you wordlessly, conveying his answer through it.

The kiss was deep and meaningful, “yes! yes, yes!” he squealed as you kissed him again.

“Hey, boyfriend,” you smiled.

“Hey, girlfriend,” he spoke with confidence, melting your heart as you pulled him down and into a hug which soon turned into a cuddling session.

Both of you fell asleep with smiles on your faces, your arms holding him tight.

Even after the competition, he couldn’t help but miss you every second of his day, texting you constantly, calling you at night just to stare at you during the two day holidays you had gotten.

The next time you met was after the competition was three days later at the school.

Jay saw Sunghoon approaching you, but he was faster as he stood in front of you, causing your eyes to widen at his sudden entry.

“Hi, baby,” he cooly said before placing a kiss on your lips.

You laughed at his childish behaviour as you see Sunghoon fuming from a distance.

“Getting protective, are we now?” you raised your eyebrow.

“You’re mine,” he tried to sound authoritative, but his voice came out in a whine.

“I’m yours,” you laughed, kissing him softly.

Safe to say, Sunghoon left after the little show Jay had put up and soon, the whole school knew about you two dating, half of them crying about how wrong the pairing is, you couldn’t care less though.

Jay was everything you needed and more, and you were going to cherish him for the rest of your life.

THANK YOU FOR READING!

TAGLIST: @ddeonuism @macaroonff @ajayke-reads @en-myworld @lunalovesstories @jayzdaze @deobitifull @silenth1lls @celeste-hoon @mari-oclock @kpoprhia @bolliwon @woniebae @lalalalawon @blessedcursd @skzenhalove

permanent taglist open! comment or send an ask to be added <3

#fic : the path to a nerd’s heart #enhypen hard hours #enhypen smut #jay smut #enha smut #jay x reader #kpop smut #enhypen imagines #park jay smut #sub!jay

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asratery · 1 year

Text

Miguel O’Hara x Spider-Man!Male Reader

You were a member of the spider society, rising quickly to be part of the small circle of Miguel’s most valued members due to your agility and strength even with your strong, tall stature. You and Miguel had a complicated relationship. At least on his end. The man was curious about your quiet nature and selfless behavior. You were a man of few words, being both a Spider-Man as well as hosting a symbiote from your world. You had a dedication to the cause that could compare with Miguel, even placing it over your physical health. Today, Miguel’s carelessness as well as your lack of self care would hit you like a truck.

Part One | Part Two | Part Three

cw: masturbation (male), hand obsession, size diff (mentioned), sexual tension (?), sexual implications, use of y/n

Please give criticism 🙏 this is my first time writing as a whole so I’m so sorry if the format is weird and/or if the summary is ass. ALSO THIS IS REALLY LONG (imo) SO I APOLOGIZE. 😭 And pls tell me if i should make a part two. (edit: okay, i calculated and its 5.2K words lmao... my bad)

You don’t remember the last time you visited HQ or even your own dimension. You’d been traveling to various earths and hunting down located anomalies per Miguel’s order.

Your physical conditions were never a worry to you while on your expeditions, simply stitching up whatever injuries you endured before carrying on. Miguel would protest to this behavior of yours, requesting that you return back to HQ for proper medical attention, but you’d quickly dismiss his precautions, having Venom keep your injuries wrapped under it’s tar-like material to avoid bursting any stitches when you were busy tackling your objectives.

You rarely fully involved Venom in your missions. It never objected to your request to remain tucked away while you worked, understanding that you preferred to rely on your own strength to take down opponents.

Miguel sent you on a new array of missions about two weeks ago. They were rather easy for someone of your skill, though it did get annoying when one enemy turned into two, then three, and so on in just one mission. These hiccups never stunted your performance, but they didn’t fail to stress Miguel out. You didn’t fully understand why the man was so anxious whenever you’d go on your missions. He never showed the same worry for the other members of the Spider Society, so what was so different about you?

Miguel had been spending most of his days in his office since you left, his earpiece being filled with the sounds of battle as you took down anomalies on the other end. You preferred not to speak, but with Miguel’s insistence, you were forced to make some noise for him every so often to ease his nerves, whether it be a grunt or a hum. Depending on your mood, some days you’d find it to be overbearing and on better ones, you’d find it to be almost comforting.

‘What is wrong with me.’ Miguel thought to himself, rubbing the bridge of his nose. He’d been sitting in his office chair, clicking around on his keyboard as he watched your marker on the map traveling miles in minutes as you moved around a random Earth, searching for a rumored anomaly. Everything had been going well until he’d heard you breathing heavily on the other end as you stopped to rest for a moment, you raspy pants tickling his ear. He’d immediately dismissed Lyla as he felt his pants tighten at the noises you made, resting his hand over the forming tent in his suit. Fuck, he had to hear your voice. He needed to.

“Y/n? You alright?” Miguel spoke through the earpiece, trying to hide the shakiness in his voice. Y/n didn’t reply with words, opting to hum in acknowledgement. No, that wasn’t enough for Miguel. “Y/n?” Y/n groaned in annoyance at his insistence, but the noise was like heaven in Miguel’s ear. Much more than what he was requesting. “I’m fine.” Y/n replied curtly before continuing his search, his stationary marker starting to move on the map again.

Miguel’s mind was already wandering when he heard y/n groan, but hearing your voice after radio silence for days? He already had a fantasy forming in his head now. There were too many days where you’d hover over him as he briefed you on an upcoming mission, his mind muddled with ideas of you bending him over the table, ripping his suit open and just fucking him over the surface. “Y/n.” Miguel unintentionally groaned out as he pulled his pants down just enough to release his cock from its confines.

“Hm?” Y/n responded in an undertone, oblivious to the intentions behind Miguel’s voice. Miguel pressed a hand over his mouth. He didn’t mean to call your name aloud. “Y-You’re approaching the signal.” Miguel spoke quickly, his heart fluttering at his slip up. You hummed in acknowledgment, a bit confused on why he had to announce it since he equipped your wristwatch with a mini map, but you dismissed it. Miguel quickly muted his mic on the earpiece to avoid making the same mistake. He looked down at his semi, the cool air making it all the more sensitive.

He dipped one of his hands down, sliding his thumb over the slit of his cock as the other turned the volume up on his earpiece, listening to your heavy breathing as you swung through an abandoned city. “Fuck, please.” Miguel murmured under his breath, his eyes fluttering shut as he slid his hand down his length, imagining your larger, calloused hands in its place.

He had to lower the volume of his earpiece to near silence, the sound of the wind hitting your side of the mic disrupting his thoughts. Miguel lightly gripped his cock, sliding his hand back up to the tip, a bead of pre forming at the motion. Gods, he needed to just tell you, but he knew it wasn’t that simple. You were nearly ten years younger than him, being only 23 years old compared to his 30 years of age. You wouldn’t want someone as old as him, much less a man. You probably had women clinging to your arms in your world, and the thought evoked a flare of jealousy in his chest.

Fuck, what would you think of him if you saw him like this? Thrusting into his hand at just the sound of your voice and faraway fantasies.

You’d been making rounds around this damned city. The place was desolate but somehow a fellow spider managed to spot an anomaly when they accidentally entered in the wrong number in an attempt to portal to their own world. Your wristwatch was picking up on a thermal presence, yet you just couldn’t find it. ‘I swear, if it’s underground, I’m dragging Miguel here to take care of this, multiverse be damned.’ You thought to yourself as you swung between rusting skyscrapers.

Your thoughts were cut off by your watch beeping, detecting a thermal signal in close range. That’s weird. You’d already scoured this area. It must’ve moved in the time that you were on the other side of the city. Your eyes were focused on the watch too closely to notice another presence approaching your side. Another anomaly. Wonderful.

Your senses kicked off but it wasn’t as quick as this creature. You were already airborne before you were launched through the window of a skyscraper you were passing, a rib cracking under the pressure your left side endured. ‘Light work.’ You thought to yourself as you kicked up off the floor of the office level you landed in, planting your feet down before launching out the side you were thrown into. You swung your way up to the roof of the high rise, your eyes scanning the surrounding area for the anomaly.

A figure darted across the street below, prompting you to jump off. You never voiced it, but you always loved the adrenaline rush that came with hunting down anomalies. You were a bit surprised at the lack of noise on Miguel’s side of the earpiece, but the thought was quickly brushed aside as you broke your fall with your webs before running into the building the figure was seen entering, your watch leading the way. You ran down multiple sets of stairs, the rapping of the creatures claws along the tiled floor guiding you along.

You shot a web at the side of the creature from the top of the stairway before it could round a corner. You yanked it towards you, disregarding the fact that your feet lost contact with the floor as the two of you met in the middle, tumbling down the stairwell with your bulky arms wrapped around the damned thing. You were able to land a few punches against the hybrid’s feathered body before you were forced to focus on its talons sinking into the muscles of your thigh. You hissed in pain, forming claws on your own hands with Venom’s help before gripping its ankle with one hand and stabbing your claws into the scaled skin above it.

The fucking thing screeched and gods was it loud, nearly forcing Venom to recede back into you before it used its other clawed foot to hit your chest, slamming your back into the stairwell. You gritted your teeth in pain, a drip of blood dripping down your mask from the cut on your brow due to the previous fall. The creature rounded the corner immediately, disappearing from your sight. ‘Of course it’s smart.’ You thought to yourself begrudgingly, your muscles a bit tense from the mission you just pursued prior to entering this world. “Miguel.” You spoke into your mic. No response. No time to wait.

You quickly got to your feet before darting around the corner, suddenly realizing the setting. Of course it lured you to a fucking subway. You were quick on your feet, jumping down to the railway platform before darting down the tunnel, your sharp ears picking up on the sound of the creature’s claws scratching against the metal of the railing as it ran from you. You’d ran so far that you made it to another underground subway stop, spotting a new creature lingering in the area.

‘Here’s the second fucker.’ You thought to yourself as Venom reformed claws around your fingers. You jumped from the railway up to the tiled floor of the platform. The creature spotted you, quickly leaping at you as you returned the gesture. You noted the difference in strength in this one compared to the first anomaly you came across, easily overpowering this one. Just when you were about to sink your claws into its neck, you were launched off to the side, slamming into a solid wall behind you. Another rib cracked at the impact. Wonderful.

The first bastard was back. The two creatures stood side by side as you used the wall as support to rise to your feet. The two freaks of nature stalked around you before launching forward.

“Venom.” You growled out. It didn’t hesitate, enveloping your body in its black tar-like body. You immediately threw the stronger one back, sending it over the platform and onto the railway as you focused your attention on the weaker anomaly.

You were able to land a multitude of hits on this one, weakening it. Just when you were about to stab your claws into its chest, the stronger one recuperated, releasing a deafening scream that incapacitated you, forcing Venom to recede back inside you. The ground shook from the scream, the beams at the subway shaking as dust fell from the ceiling.

‘Fuck, I need to focus on that one or this rusty building is going down on all three of us.’

You were alone now, the scream forcing Venom to retreat. You made circles with the creature, the weaker of the two still recovering on the floor. You made the first move, webbing the feet of the anomaly to the floor before landing a kick straight in its chest.

The creature slammed against another beam. Fuck. Bad move. The ceiling shook again, an unsettling sound of creaking above them. The building was going to collapse at this rate. You needed to keep these two down here while getting back to ground level so you wouldn’t get stuck or worse, killed under the rubble.

“Miguel.” Silence. What the fuck was he doing right now? Just when you were about to approach the now weakened anomaly, you felt the muscle in your thigh tense. You dropped one knee, accidentally slamming it against the tiled floor. You gritted your teeth, the muscle cramping from overworking yourself. Miguel had warned you, and now you were experiencing the outcome. In the midst of Venom attempting to reform around you, you were tackled from behind. The second one was back up.

You swung your now clawed fingers back, moving to plunge your hand into the chest of this anomaly. You were cut short as the other let out another ear-piercing screech, forcing Venom to retreat yet again. The entire bottom level shook now. ‘This building’s going down.’ You thought to yourself. “Miguel,” you shouted into the earpiece, “I need backup, I’m under the apartment buildi—,” your words were cut short as the infrastructure gave out, sending you into darkness.

Miguel was in the midst of cleaning himself up when he heard the low sound of a rumble on the other side of his earpiece. He immediately raised the volume on his earpiece. ‘Shit, shit shit,’ he though to himself, ‘I wasn’t paying attention.’ “Y/n, what’s your status?” Miguel quickly spoke into the mic, turning Lyla back on. Lyla’s hologram reappeared, about to crack a joke before noticing Miguel’s panicked expression as he looked at his monitors, rapidly typing on the keyboard. “Shit—Lyla, call Jess and Hobie to HQ now,” he said quickly before shouting into the earpiece, “Y/n, give me a status update!” Silence. A deadly silence that was interrupted a few minutes later by the sound of a weak wheeze. Y/n.

“Fuck, y/n, what’s your status?” Miguel spoke quickly into his earpiece as he connected the audio to a walkie-talkie. Jessica entered Miguel’s office, Hobie following a few feet behind her. You couldn’t get a word out, a piece of rubble pressing against your torso, cutting your breaths short. Another weak wheeze, this time coming from the walkie. Jessica froze at the noise before quickly swinging up to Miguel’s platform. “Who is that? Is that—Don’t tell me that’s y/n.” She said quickly. Hobie was already analyzing the holographic map on Miguel’s desk, typing the coordinates for your marker into his wristwatch before creating a portal. “Let’s go.”

You let out another weak wheeze, groaning in pain when the rubble shifted. Your right ankle was stinging, likely sprained, and your knee cap fractured from it hitting the tiled floor prior to the collapse. Your side felt wet and the rebar poking out of a chunk of concrete next to you easily explained why. The screech from the anomaly must’ve ruptured an eardrum, since you could feel the ticklish trickle of blood leaking out of your ear. Your earpiece was knocked out, hidden somewhere in the rubble that pinned you down as you heard the distant sound of Miguel’s panicked voice coming from it. ‘Wonderful timing, boss.’ You thought to yourself as you let out a pained coughed, your throat coated in dust. Your vision started to fade in the midst of you trying to count how many fractures your ribs incurred.

The trio wasn't enough to get you out of the rubble, having to call over a dozen other spider people to aid in the search for you. The only thing keeping Miguel’s hopes up was the presence of a pulse that your wristwatch was picking up, Lyla closely monitoring it for any changes as per Miguel’s orders. He could feel his heart cracking at the edges at the sight of a few spider people gently pulling your unconscious body from under the rubble. They immediately applied pressure to your side due to a large gash from a piece of rebar as Miguel quickly opened a portal back to HQ, rushing you to the medical wing of the building.

Your eyes were hazy when you opened them, taking a few moments to adjust to the bright hospital lights, though the dizziness stayed. You reached a hand up to the nasal cannula, taking note of the tug from the IV in your arm. An IV. A cannula. Bright lights. You hated hospitals with a passion. You shot up in the bed, your body wracked with pain from both a terrible concussion as well as the broken ribs. Strong hands firmly gripped your shoulders, gently guiding you to lay back down on the bed as a soothing voice murmured to you, though you couldn't make out the words. You complied, reluctantly, though majorly because you didn't have the strength to protest.

Your eyes fluttered shut as you focused on a breathing technique to try and ease some of the pain from your array of broken and fractured ribs, though the pain was still agonizing even when you inhaled. Thank god for your pain tolerance, or this could be a lot more unbearable than it already is. You could faintly hear Miguel's unintelligible voice, but he kept a low tone to accomodate your ruptured eardrum. You felt soft fingers stroking the top of your left hand. Jess. She was on your left, Miguel on your right. You could feel a weight on your left leg. Pavitr. Gods, the boy looked up to you like you were an older brother to him. You couldn't imagine how stressed he must be to see you in this state.

You opened your eyes again after about ten minutes, slowly blinking as you let your eyes adjust to the harsh lighting above you. After you finally gained a good enough level of clarity, your sharp eyes began darting around the room, grabbing every little detail you could pick up without tilting your concussed head. You made eye contact with Jessica, who was tracing soft patterns into your forearm as she looked at you, a soft look in her eyes. She was like an older sister to you in a way, and even though you never acknowledged this, she knew.

Your eyes shifted over to Pavitr, who was sat in a chair closer to the end of the bed, practically hugging the lower half of your left leg. You had a brace around your right ankle and could feel the tight gauze wrapped around your thigh, hidden under the blankets. Your abdomen felt very snug, being tightly wrapped in gauze as well due to what you assumed was that wet feeling on your side from when you were under the rubble. The cut on your brow had a stitch and your lip was busted.

You could feel the tickle of Miguels breath against your upper arm, but you never looked over at him. His left hand was gripping your thick tricep like a lifeline while his right remained intertwined with yours. You refused to look at the man, and rightfully so. Had he been paying attention instead of getting distracted by god knows what, you wouldn't be in this uncomfortable situation. "Summary?" You asked Jessica in a raspy voice, your eyes were half-lidded as they focused on Pavitr's sleeping figure.

Miguel answered for Jessica. It ticked you off. You didn't want to hear his voice right now. "Sprained ankle, laceration in your right side, two fractured ribs, three broken, grade three concussion, gash in your right thigh, fractured knee cap, and a few cuts and bruises," Miguel replied quickly, "your lung collapsed, so you had a chest tube in but it was removed yesterday morning." You had a question on the tip of your tongue, but you knew Miguel would answer it before Jess could. "You've been out for six days." Miguel murmured, unknowingly answering said question. "We were worried sick." Bullshit. You had to resist the urge to say it aloud. This wouldn't have happened had he been paying attention and heard at least one of your three call outs.

Jess could see the anger flickering in your narrowed eyes as you focused on Pavitr again in an attempt to calm your nerves. She could feel your fingers twitching against her hand as you took quiet breaths. She was sure Miguel could feel the motions in your fingers too, since the man had his hand tightly threaded with yours. You didn’t have energy to be angry right now. You could feel a wave of exhaustion coming over you, making your eyelids heavier than they already were. You succumbed to the feeling, your eyes slowly shutting.

‘He didn’t even look at me.’ Was a repetitive thought in Miguel’s head over the next few weeks. He took notice in that behavior. How could he not? He didn’t blame you, but it didn’t stop him from feeling a flicker of jealousy when he saw you and your goddamn face on the cameras and how you looked at all the spider people who visited you with kindness. You even gave little smiles to a few with that pretty face of yours—Fuck, he needed to talk about that.

Miguel didn’t get too many chances to visit you throughout the weeks and when he did manage to, you were already asleep by the time he got there. He’d pull a chair next to your bed, staring at you in ways he didn’t could only dream of compared to when you were awake. He'd spend a few hours every other night just… analyzing you. Counting every vein that traveled up your forearm, staring at the thick lashes on your lower waterline, the broad chest that peeked out of your hospital shirt—Gods, how could you be equal parts pretty and handsome?

Tonight was the same routine, Miguel had snuck into the medical wing way past visiting hours, slinking into your hospital room. He stood in the doorway, listening to the quiet whistling sound your nose made when you inhaled as confirmation that you were asleep. He stepped in, sliding the door shut behind him before grabbing a chair at the entry, picking it up and gently setting it on the floor at your bedside.

He took a seat before pulling a small metal object from his pocket. A nail clipper. Miguel had noticed that your nails had gained a bit of length, not much, but enough for him to notice. Definitely not because he wanted a reason to touch your hands. He carefully sat himself on the edge of your hospital bed before gently lifting your hand that still had an IV in it.

The horny bastard nearly moaned at how heavy your hand felt in his. How were you so strong? You barely had free time to work out with how often you were hunting anomalies and there was no way chasing those guys alone would be enough, right? He carefully set your hand on his thigh, the warmth emitting from you causing a smile to spread across his face. Gods, this felt wrong.

The room was silent besides the occasional clicking noise of the nail clipper as he worked through your first hand, making sure to carefully round the edges of your nails. Your hands were so nice, saliva pooling in Miguel’s mouth that he had to swallow down as he ran the pads of his fingers over every vein that traveled up the top of your hand. His mind was wandering and god your fingers were thick. The thoughts came before he could stop them, imagining you sliding your heavy digits into his mouth, coating them in his saliva before sliding them inside him one by one—

Miguel leaned over you, gently lifting your untreated hand to rest in his before he began repeating the same ministrations he gave to the first. The closer proximity made the scent of you in his nose even stronger. Your musk was a bit of everything: comforting, arousing, warm, familiar. If he could have it as a cologne, he would. ‘Fuck, is something wrong with me?’ Miguel thought to himself as he leaned towards you, his nose inching closer to the pulse in your neck.

He couldn’t help himself, gently laying your hand back in its original position before dipping down, pressing his nose against the delicate skin of your neck. ‘Something’s wrong with me.’ He inhaled deeply, having to suppress a moan in his throat at the smell of you. He planted his hands next to your hips. Oh my god, speaking of which, your hips just seemed to move so fluidly with you when you walked. It wasn’t like you were just blatantly swaying them, but Miguel noticed the way they seemed to rise and lower in sync with your bulky thighs as you moved around his office.

‘You’re tempting me on purpose, you have to be.’ Miguel thought to himself as he indulged further, letting the tip of his cold nose press against the side of your throat as he breathed you in. ‘I’ve never acted like this about anyone in my life before. Why’re you so easy to obsess over?’ Miguel found himself watching the medical wing’s security cameras in his time, watching as you walked in the hall with Jess, using the wall as a slight support. You looked like a leviathan in the hallway, your tall, broad stature taking up a large portion of the hall and dwarfing Jessica. You had no idea how arousing just the sight of you was.

Miguel’s thoughts were cut off by the feeling of your firm, calloused hands wrapping around his waist, spreading your warmth to those areas. Miguel nearly choked on his breath, absolutely refusing to meet your gaze right now. He couldn’t look you in the eyes. God no. You just caught him in the fucking act.

Miguel kept his head tucked under your chin, a warm feeling coiling in his gut at the realization that your hands wrapped nearly entirely around his waist. How the hell was that even possible? The man was 6’9 yet you managed to make him feel small. How were you even possible? Oh my god, he couldn’t even imagine the view you’d get if you were to wrap those hands around his waist, keeping him in place as you pounded into hi—

“Miguel.”

You felt your hand twitch at the feeling of something cold brushing against your neck. A nurse? Or maybe just a nip of the cold breeze that carried throughout the wing? Nope. ‘Y/n.’ You weren’t thinking that. Why would you repeat your own name? Oh right, you aren’t alone in your body. ‘Venom?’ There was a moment of silence in your conscious. ‘That… man is here again. The human. The weird one.’ ‘Miguel?’ A beat of silence yet again. Venom didn’t like saying the man’s name, preferring to lightheartedly insult him when describing him. You’d always brushed off Venom’s insistence that Miguel had a thing for you. ‘He’s touching you. Again.’ It’s voice was a hiss. ‘What?’

You woke up before you could get a response, your eyes quickly adjusting to the dark room, Miguel’s sturdy figure illuminated by the moonlight peeking into the room. You could feel him twitch and his breath catch when you wrapped your hands around his noticeably narrow waist. Why you chose his waist, you didn’t know, the motion being almost instinctual. You could tell he didn’t want to look at you. How could he, when you just caught him practically burying his face into your neck? You had to break the silence, as much as you hated speaking.

“Miguel.”

Silence in response to your husky voice. You slid your hands up his waist, gripping the sides of his chest before pulling him away, taking note of how your thumbs pressed into the plump edges of his pecs. Miguel’s eyes were trained on your neck as his hands rested against the large muscle of your shoulders. His face was red. So red. This wasn’t Miguel. This didn’t look like the man who so easily scolded others and had a resting bitch face for hours on end. Or at least it didn’t look like it.

“Miguel.”

Your voice was a lot firmer this time, catching Miguel’s full attention as he slowly looked up at you, an innocent look in his eyes. Who was this? Surely this wasn’t the leader of the Spider Society in your hospital room. Who was this little minx that slinked into your room while you were unconscious? “Explain yourself.” You wanted to say more, but the soreness of your throat said otherwise. “I-I was cutting your nails.” Miguel’s voice was shaky. You never heard the man like this before. “And?” You asked inquisitively. He was silent, his eyes darting between each of your sharper ones. “And I was… checking your pulse…?” Miguel’s voice was nearly silent now, an obvious hesitation in his voice.

“You’re a wonderful liar, boss.” You stared him down, your piercing gaze practically demanding an answer. “I was smelling you.” He whispered it so quietly, you almost didn’t pick it up with your still recovering eardrum. “Why?” “Because… because I missed you.” Miguel’s voice was a murmur. Missed you? Why the hell did he miss you? “You wouldn’t miss me if you had been paying attention.” You had to address the elephant in the room.

“Y/n—” “No. Explain to me. Because I called out to you thrice and I got zero response.” Not now, not yet. Miguel wanted this conversation to wait till you were fully recovered. His eyes darted to the door he came in through, but you quickly caught on, sliding your hands down to his waist again and tightening your grip. Oh fuck, Miguel had to suppress a whimper at the feeling. “I-I was busy with Lyla and—” “It’s an earpiece. You would’ve heard me. Meaning you either removed it or muted it. Explain why.” “Y/n, please, you should really just—” “What were you doing that was so important?”

Miguel’s mind was reeling. A part of him wanted to run from this conversation but the other was loving the sound of your voice and the feel of your firm grip on his waist. “Y-You should just go back to be—” “Shut up.” Gods, you had an authority in your voice that silenced him immediately. The feeling of your firm finger wrapped around his waist had him tensing his arms, pleading with his body to send the rushing heat elsewhere.

“Miguel. I will tell Lyla to pull up the cameras in your office myself. Or I’ll send Venom to.”

There was no running from this. No way in hell. “I-I was touching myself.” There. It was out now. He said it. Were you happy? Who knows, cause Miguel screwed his eyes shut the moment he said it. “Touching yourself…” Your voice was lower, and had a hint of anger and confusion in it. “Yes.” Miguel practically gasped out the word, his face flaming in his embarrassment. He’d rather just tell the man then have him watch it himself on the cameras. “You expect me to believe that? That you were touching yourself? We were talking and then suddenly you went radio si—…Miguel.” Fuck, fuck, fuck. You connected the dots. Miguel wanted to crawl into a hole.

“Explain it. Now.” Miguel was quick in his response. “Y-You were breathing, and every fucking piece of audio was picked up, and-and I felt this heat in me. And then you groaned and I just—I just…” Your grip tightened around his waist again and Miguel couldn’t help it, letting out a soft whimper at your touch. “You couldn’t help yourself.” You murmured. Miguel nodded his head in shame, opening his eyes again, though they remain focused on your neck again.

“Miguel.” His eyes snapped up to yours, an unmistakable heat in your husky voice. “Go lock the door.”

Miguel stood so quickly that the chair next to your bed nearly got knocked over.

So… are we feeling a part two? 😏 or was this ass? Cause I’ll stop rn. Lmao.

#miguel ohara x reader #miguel o’hara x reader #miguel x reader #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara #atsv miguel #male reader #miguel o’hara #miguel o’hara x male reader #x male reader #miguel o'hara x male reader #sub miguel o'hara #dom male reader

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spanishcorndogs · 1 month

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Papaya Coloured Ribbons

[Image Credits: found on pinterest! LMK if this belongs to you, would love to give proper credits]

A/N: Uh hello 👋🏼 I wrote a quick something today! It’s not edited at all so I am very sorry for the awful sentences. Just a little light daydream I wanted to get out of my head.

[Warnings] None

—

Lando always looked for an excuse to talk to you. It’s not like he’s struggled before to talk to other girls, yet for some reason when it came to you, Lando couldn’t seem to make the conversation last longer than four seconds.

He couldn’t seem to figure it out. Last time you both talked, Lando approached you with the full intention of completing your hair, adorned in papaya coloured ribbons, yet that clearly was not how it turned out…

[Yesterday — Thursday, Media day]

As if a permanent magnet settled into your presence, Lando was automatically drawn to you. He didn’t have to talk to you, touch or hold you. Just as long as you were near, Lando could settle into the chaos of media day.

Lando noticed you had dressed a little differently today than your ordinary papaya uniform. He was incredibly intrigued at the recent change.

Your hair had half been pulled up into two ponytails, with papaya ribbons around it. Your hair simply framed yourself in such a quiet adoration, he couldn’t help but stare a little longer than normal. This seemed to catch your attention as you quietly looked up from your phone. You saw Lando staring and smiled back, not sure if it was you he was trying to greet with a stare too long. Trying to make the situation seem as normal as possible, Lando smiles right back, a kilowatt smile that brightens his eyes reflects into you. If it was possible, your smile got bigger, waving at Lando’s friendliness, pulling him in by the invisible string that kept you tied to each other.

Lando approached you with a smile that did not dim. A “Hi,” fell from his lips, loud enough to fill you with the bubbles that simmer in your throat, forcing you to breathe just that little bit more. A “Hello Lan” greeted him, raising the humidity that moistened his hands, discreetly wiping his palms on the back of his jeans.

“Hiya p,” he responded, once again using the letter reserved to refer to you. The reason for such letter absolutely lost, accepted into the normality of interacting with Lando.

Your respond to Lando with a giggle of the lips, popping your phone away to provide Lando with your full attention.

“Your hair, it’s something” he blurts, raising the awkwardness of the encounter… once again. Something Lando has found himself doing with only you recently. You couldn’t help but anxiously laugh, self consciously touching the ribbon to make sure they weren’t out of place.

As if the 5 second delay has finally reached the now mortified Lando, he couldn’t help but pull a face of surprise, registering the interaction he just caused. “NOt just something,” he stressed, “More than something,” he continued, reaching up to the end of one of the ribbons, playing with it in his hands as you placed your hands back down. “As in beautiful! Not that you don’t always look beautiful, I mean you’re always looking so absolutely breathtaking and I— Oh, uhh.” His miserable ramble comes to a stop as one tiny tug of the ribbon and it’s come undone.

You cannot help but giggle at Landos run of the mouth compliment, resulting in the undoing of the ribbons you had worked so hard in perfecting.

“Oh hahaha, that’s so fine Lan! You’re so fine” you express, as Lando unsuccessfully attempts to redo the ribbon, creating an uncomfortable knot in your hair. Attempting to rescue Lando from the panic he seems to be, you raise your hands in an attempt to free your hair from the complicated dance Lando has caused, intervening from a worse outcome.

You begin to remind Lando that his name is being called, summoned to whatever interview had filled his schedule. Yet as you had attempted to give Lando the runaway, he couldn’t seem to make out the words that stumbled out of your mouth. All he could seem to focus on was the feeling of your skin. His fingertips went alight, burning at the subtle heat that warmed your body.

“There all fixed!” You exclaimed, bringing Lando back down to the bubble he’d seemingly been floating in. “All fixed,” you repeated, tilting your head to highlight the newly tied bow that you had managed to hopefully secure again.

“Oh, oh yes it is! Good as new!” he said as he attempted to clear his throat of the bubbling nerves that settled into his throat. “LANDO NORRIS!” Someone exclaimed from afar, reminding you of the initial reason you had entered the media tent.

“Oops looks like they’ve been calling you! I best be on my way anyway.” You said, gathering your feat in the direction of your fellow colleagues who had silently snickered, watching the encounter (un)surprisingly fail.

You stood in your spot a little longer, giving Lando the chance to mutter out a word or two but it seemed the previous ramble was enough to tighten his lips closed. Lando gave you a short smile goodbye essentially running off to person calling his name.

—

a/n: Can you tell I suck at ending things? oh god. Anyway! I thought I’d give writing something a go. I have so much respect for those writing things! I have a couple things written but I’m chronically awkward and do not have the guts to share more just yet…

I have an idea for a second part and will probably just post it for myself later! Or not, who knows, ADHD hyperfixations can be so unpredictable.

Hope you have a lovely day/night. If you’re still reading this and want to talk or need a shoulder to lean on, my messages should be open. Here for you, even when the sun doesn’t shine as bright as it did yesterday, you are not alone.

#lando norris x reader #lando norris imagine #lando norris #lando x you #lando norris fic #f1 x reader #f1 imagine #lando x reader #f1 #f1 2024 #mclaren #mclaren f1 #mclaren lando norris #charles leclerc imagine #max verstappen imagine #max verstappen x reader #fernando alonso imagine

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anonymous-rendezvous · 11 months

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You Comfort Him - 💙 Ike

Ike Eveland x GN!Reader

✦ — Written by Mod I ✨. Beta Read and Edited by Mod S 👿. ⏌

✧ — Comfort & Care Masterlist | He comforts you 💙

✦ — Contains: Established Relationship, fluff, & comfort

✧ — Word count: 786 | Ao3

Snippets of time showing how you and your partner care for each other.

─── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ───

“Ugh, no, this one’s bad too! Come on brain, think of something new!” You can hear the telltale signs of crumpled paper immediately followed by a frustrated sigh. The muffled sounds of Ike’s brainstorming session – if it can even be called that at this point – can be heard from your spot in the living room.

Ike has been like this for a week now, trying to pump out a new idea after the large success of his last book. The only problem is, he poured his heart and soul into the previous work. And without a proper break, he won’t be able to do the same with the next one. You’ve known this for a while now, but you hadn’t wanted to interrupt him, worried it’d only make the situation worse. Though now, hearing the frustrated groans of your boyfriend, you began to regret your decision.

With a sigh, you set your drink on the coffee table before getting up from your comfy spot on the couch. “Okay, he needs cuddles.” Your steps are determined as you make your way down the hallway toward his office. Two firm knocks are the only warning you give before opening the door.

Ike turns in his chair, looking at you with wide eyes, “Darling? Is everything okay?” It’s rather sweet to see the way he immediately worries about you even with his current predicament.

With a shake of your head, you march up beside him before planting your hands on your hips. “No. You, sir, need a break.” You raise a hand as you continue, “Your options are bed cuddles, couch cuddles, or I koala you right here in that chair.” With each option, you lift a finger, emphasizing your seriousness. Hazel eyes blink owlishly up at you, turning to look down at his desk and then back at you. The novelist’s brows furrow, opening his mouth to protest, but you cut him off with a pleading look, “Please, Ike. You need a break.” Taking a step closer to him, you lightly grab at his shoulder. “Your work will still be here after a good rest.”

The tension drains from both his expression and posture. He took another look at the mess that is his desk; covered in papers, ink, and even messier ideas. He did need a break, didn’t he? He lets out a deep sigh before returning his attention to you, exhaustion finally sinking its teeth into him after hours of draining its prey. “...Bed cuddles do sound nice.” With a soft smile, you offer him a hand, which he graciously accepts.

Leading him to your shared bedroom, the pair of you crawl into bed. His glasses are set safely aside as you get comfortable, rustling the blankets up to get warm. You are propped up against the pillows as Ike rests his head against your chest, wrapping his arms around you to clutch at the back of your shirt. One of your hands rests on his upper back while you tenderly brush through his hair with your other hand; swirling a strand around your finger occasionally. A comfortable silence rests between the two of you for a good while before Ike speaks up, tone quiet as though speaking any louder would shatter the serene atmosphere. “I'm sorry.”

You make a small noise, and Ike can feel the vibrations of it against his cheek. “You have nothing to apologize to me about. I’m just sorry I didn’t try to help you earlier.”

He shakes his head against you; the soft texture of his hair against your skin causes an almost ticklish sensation. “No, I’m an adult and I should’ve been acting like one. I’ve been so stressed over creating my next story I made you worry over me like a child.”

With a light laugh, you reply, “I’d be a shitty partner if I didn’t worry about you.” You give his shoulder a reassuring squeeze, while your other hand cradles the back of his head.

He’s silent for another minute before muttering against your clothed chest, “I just want my next story to be good. I want people to enjoy it as much as they did the last one…”

“And they will, love.” You soothe, letting your fingers return to combing through his hair. “You just need to give yourself time. Go back to it later with fresh eyes. It’ll only be as good as your other book when you're enjoying yourself, not when you're frustrated and angry.”

His arms tighten around you, taking in your words. After a moment, Ike lifts his head enough to place a kiss against your shoulder. “I love you.”

“I love you too.” You reply, sealing your words with a kiss placed on his forehead.

─── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ───

Likes are nice and we do appreciate them. However, comments/feedback is what really motivates us to continue writing. Even just a keyboard smash or emojis are a joy to see!

We do not allow our stories to be translated or reposted/shared anywhere. The only places our stories should be found are on Ao3 or Tumblr. Nowhere else.

#ike eveland x reader #luxiem x reader #nijisanji x reader #ike eveland #nijisanji ike #luxiem #nijisanji luxiem #nijisanji en #nijisanji #x reader #gn reader #gender neutral reader #Written by Mod I ✨

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lorelune · 1 year

Text

part iv

|| diluc ragnvindr x f! reader || E/18+ || hurt/comfort, fluff, post-trauma || wc: 13.3k || ao3 || masterlist || ← PREVIOUS + NEXT → ||

As much as you allow yourself to, you 'settle' in.

❁ my heart, your song - @firein-thesky ❁

minors & ageless blogs dni

a/n: a!!! chunk!!! AHHHH!!! i'm so excited to finally share more of this piece :'^) thank you endlessly to mao (@itoshisoup) and collab-partner cielo (@firein-thesky) for beta-reading and riffing throughout this piece. their input and edits have been vital to polishing this story and getting it all the way here!! to posting!!! thank you both!!!!! check out the masterlist above to read cielo's piece for this collab <3 leave them and kaeya some love 💓 please enjoy this next chapter, with all its sharp-teeth and softness (and some oral 😎😎!!!!) ENJOY loves!!! <333

...

tags: smoking, vague descriptions of dissociation, references to reader's past, almost-wife (an unnamed oc), some smut (as a treat), soggy soggy soggggy!!!

PART iv: the thaw

Adelinde comes to your door the next day and takes your measurements. Circling you with a sewer’s tape here and there, she records numbers on a little notepad.

“The Wind’s Breath dance is in a few days.” She tells you. Days have been blurring together. “Master Diluc has requested that an outfit be fetched for you for it.”

You should be upset, it seems like an overstep. It is. But, for ‘staying for Windblume’, you haven’t been back to Mond proper since you’ve settled down in the Winery. The Wind’s Breath dance, or rather night of fucking debauchery does have somewhat of a dress code. There’s a traditional style of Mondstadan clothing that most wear, aside from perhaps knights and some merchants. The colors align with Windblume’s yellow, soft teal and creamy ivory.

Certainly clothing you don’t have now, and a night of drinking and dancing sounds absolutely lovely. You remember enjoying the ceremony of it, in your youth.

“... Did you hear Diluc and I last night?” You ask Adelinde when she has the tape around your bust.

Adelinde chooses her words carefully, more interested in the measurements than your question, “I heard shouting by the hearth, but nothing after. Should I have heard more after?”

You flush at her insinuation, “Adelinde—”

“Sorry, sorry,” She laughs without a bite, going to your inseam. “It’s a little too easy to tease you, dear. Forgive me.”

You narrow your eyes at her in jest, rolling them a moment later and let her prod you for the length of your wingspan.

“I did shout at him though.” You admit. “I could’ve chewed him out more. He deserved more, maybe. I don’t know. It feels confusing.”

“Why confusing?”

“Because—” You rub a hand over your face and your balance wobbles. “It’s Diluc. There’s just so much there, good and bad. I don’t know how or if I should broach it.”

Adelinde thinks for a moment, gives a thoughtful hum, and rises, “That’s entirely up to you, whether you choose to examine or confront your history with Diluc, and I’d say the winery, as well. I know that he has caused you a great deal of suffering and grief.”

You laugh, “It sounds like there’s a ‘but’ coming.”

“But,” She smiles. Smooths your collar down. “You also loved him, didn’t you?”

You stew for a moment.

Of course you loved him. Love, still. You’ve buried it so deep in you, but it won’t suffocate. You haven’t fed it in years, starved it from light and air, but it still knows yearning and want better than any other part of you.

You lie, “Once. Maybe.”

“And he loved you too, yes?”

(Oh, he did. He told you so, showed you so, over and over again. In the little gestures of childhood, to firsts that you shared, to the way his eyes shone so brightly for no one other than you. He had always been such a caring boy, and you were the subject of his greatest attentions.)

(Such knowledge has tormented you. To be loved in such a way, and have it ripped away in the way he did—)

“You know this already, Adelinde.” You side-step her question and go the vanity. Fidget with a bottle of perfume left by a previous guest. The glass bottle is small and amber, half-full. It smells floral with a hint of musk; you can tell even before you uncork it.

Adelinde watches you as you do. You can feel her gaze on you. When you dare to look— she keeps a soft expression. Wizened, and perhaps a bit sad. It aches to see her that way. She was there. She had taken care of Kaeya, Diluc and you in your youth. She’d been a fixture. Seen the lot of you through it all.

You wonder how she has beared it.

“Such care does not go away easily.” She says gently. “Even if we would like it to. Even if living would be easier if they did. I think both you and the master of the house know this well.”

You pop the cork on the perfume. It’s oily, and sticks to the tips of your fingers. You grimace. “It is... difficult to imagine Diluc caring about me, even residually, after his departure.”

“I imagine so.” Adelinde says so kindly. “But, I know the Master well enough to say he wouldn’t have invited you back to the manor so openly if he didn’t care for you. He’s not the type of man to do things he doesn’t want to do.”

(She’s right.)

(You remember Diluc dragging his feet and bemoaning having to wash up after days on the riverbank, covered in sand and dirt. How his hair would snarl and get so knotted— he hated brushing it, his scalp too tender and Crepus was, respectfully, a bit clueless on how to manage Diluc’s hair. You wonder—)

You rub your forehead, then your cheeks. “Even still. It’s hard—”

(Because you simply cannot fathom Diluc loving you still. Such a reality cannot exist. If it did— if that’s true—)

Adelinde must see your panic and redirects. “I think it would serve you well to try and remember where you are. Stay grounded in the good things you can find in the present, here, rather than a past that hasn’t been kind to you.”

“... I don’t have to forgive him, do I?”

“No. Not unless you want to.” Adelinde grabs your shoulders and squeezes. “Enjoy the fields. Visit your friends. Catch up with Elzer, if you can too. Maybe Kaeya—”

“Not Kaeya.” You don’t mean to snap, but you do.

“No Kaeya, then.” Adelinde seems unaffected. She smooths your collar and tucks your hair behind your ear. “Lisa, then. I’m sure there are folks who will continue to need your healing, too. Not to mention I do think Diluc will give you as much wine as you’d like.”

“Please, I’d rather he didn’t think of me as a drunk.” You paw at your cheeks as Adelinde pulls your ear with a cheeky smile.

“Does that mean we can’t share a bottle by the hearth? That’s a shame.”

“Oh, I never said that. We’ll just have to wait until Diluc goes to bed.”

“That’s not necessary.” Your statement gives Adelinde pause. You catch it, how Adelinde schools her expression and straightens herself. “I’ll be sure the master doesn’t give us any grief.”

You could pry. There’s something there. You know how to smell out a secret— half of being a physician traveling from citadels to isolated villages is picking out people’s hidden aches and pains. Ones they come accustomed to hiding or have become used to. It’s a learned skill, one you did not have in your naivete and youth, but you’ve honed it now. You see Adelinde falter.

Diluc has always been dawn— the insinuation of Diluc and the night causes her to stumble.

You do not pry. You school yourself. Because you are here for Windblume. And to find this damn healer. And if Diluc hadn’t invited you to his (not your) home, you’d be happily sleeping in your tent just outside of Mondstadt proper.

You do not need to entangle yourself more than necessary.

(You’ve already stepped too close to a chasm that you’ve avoided for far too long. You do not realize how steep its edges are or how fragile its cliffs.)

You laugh to yourself, “As if I’d let him.”

“I’m sure you wouldn’t.” Adelinde softens once more. You can see the wrinkles around her eyes and in the center of her forehead. Thick patches of freckles on her nose. “ You, though. Take your time. Rest. Be good to yourself. I’m always here to talk, if you would need or like... and if I may?”

“Of course.”

“I’ve given the Master similar advice. He’s more affected than he lets on.” Adelinde reveals and presses her lips to your forehead. “You are both dear to me, and I don’t wish to watch either of you suffer in the ways you have. Though, I won’t mettle more than this.”

You sit with the knowledge she’s presented.

“Thank you, Adelinde.” And you hug her hard like you’re trying to suck the wisdom from her body into your own. “May I ask you one other thing?”

“Of course, dear.”

(You feel unsteady. You don’t want to think about this. But, perhaps, it’ll provide you some stability. Assuredness.)

“Did you ever end up telling Diluc about what happened while he was gone?” You can’t look at her. Even if you were, your gaze would be elsewhere. Even acknowledging ‘it’ (forget, forget, forget) has you feeling untethered.

Adelinde grabs your hands in hers and intertwines your fingers. They’re worn, calloused from washing and carrying burdens she shouldn’t have to.

“No, I didn’t,” Adelinde says, softly. “Both Elzer and I have kept true to what we promised you when you left for Snezhnaya. Though Diluc has... asked, we’ve been vague about it over the years.”

You’re grateful. Endlessly.

(It means that something is still sealed, well-bottled and shoved away, and hidden. It was the only request you made of them upon your departure.)

“Thank you.” You hug her, but Adelinde is already moving to pull you close. She strokes the back of your head like a mother would.

“Always, dear.” Adelinde assures you. You scrunch the fabric of her dress in your fists and bite your tongue.

(Lest you reveal too much, or break something that should stay fractured but whole.)

...

The Winery gets pleasantly warm during the spring afternoons. The sun slants just right, and the light that spills in heats the manor better than any of its many hearths could. You leave your window open, soaking in the bird songs and petrichor from the morning drizzles. You’re half-tempted to wander in the vining fields, but abstain.

You’ve spent the afternoon mulling over Adelinde’s advice. You trust her and her sagely wisdom. Without her guidance, you surely would’ve crumbled during your tenure as the winery’s unofficial master. You had no reason to doubt her, or think that she was leading you astray with her words—

And yet.

(How could Diluc care about you? How, how, how—)

You fist into your own skull, as if you could quiet your thoughts with nothing more than brute force.

The day lazily slinks by, and you meander to the kitchens for a meal as the sun goes gold with the evening.

You’re surprised to find Diluc there.

The kitchen is an organized mess, notably. Bowls and latched boxes of dry ingredients lay out on the countertops, and the center prep station is dusted in flour with several round balls of dough at the ready. You see a bottle of milk and bright yellow dust in a jar.

Diluc’s jacket has been discarded, hung on a hook near the back door entry to shield it from any potential mess. He’s left in his trousers and waistcoat, any of the more ornamental gold bits have had their sheen dulled by baking dust. His sleeves are rolled up to his elbows. He kneads a ball of dough with a motion that looks far too practiced for someone who was once a knight, and now a businessman. Strong, worn hands, ducking into the dough, then out, smearing it on the butcherblock. His forearms bulge. It’s obscene.

He must notice you, but he doesn’t stop. You side-step him to the icebox, fish out a handful of berries and a wedge of cheese. You perch on one of the counters and fold your legs under you, stretching to grab a knife from a block.

“... Are you going to spectate?” Diluc asks, pausing, only to look at you for a brief moment before continuing his kneading.

You hum, combining a bite of berry and cheese and speaking through it, “I suppose. What are you making?”

“Sweetbread.”

“When did you learn to make bread?” You ask, a bit baffled. He’d always been a rather poor cook, and an even worse baker.

“Sometime back. I was forced to, while I was away.”

“... Oh?”

Diluc doesn’t look at you, “A comrade’s wife taught me how to. She said it was an important life skill.”

“That sounds about right.” You’d never mastered sweetbreads, but you feel quite adept at making flatbreads on round stones.

“These were supposed to be a bit of a surprise,” He grumbles under his breath. Almost pouting. “A gift... And perhaps, an apology— for you. For yesterday.”

“... Oh?”

“... ‘Oh’?”

You trip over your words, shoving a berry into your mouth to try and disguise your stumbling, “I didn’t expect you to apologize.”

“I’m not yet, the bread isn’t done.” Diluc sets the finished ball into another bowl, greased with oil and butter.

“I see.” You raise an eyebrow and take another bite. The berries stain your fingertips wine red. “Why are you apologizing?”

“I overstepped,” Diluc says simply, adjusting his sleeves and going to work the next dough ball.

“No— I. That’s not—” You groan, and throw your face in your hands. It feels warm. “It’s fine, Diluc.”

“Denying it won’t stop me from apologizing.” He shoots back. “You have every reason to be angry with me. Besides, this bread will go to waste otherwise.”

You shoot him a half-baked smile. A distraction, for both you and him. Hopefully, it’s enough to disguise the way your shoulders go rigid and the way you white-knuckle the lip of the corner of the counter. His words bounce around in your skull, like a mocking echo that just won’t shut up—

(How long had you waited for that admission from Diluc? How many star-filled nights have you toiled, once, craving that validation from him? You wanted him to balm the wound that he left, even if you knew it was impossible.)

(At some point you asphyxiated the want. Crushed it down into something that could be swallowed but never digested. Hope can’t be killed, but archons, did you try.)

Diluc’s words unearth the dormant thing. You don't think Diluc understands the gravity of what he’s said to you, and you hope he doesn’t put it together.

(It feels raw. He’s cut you and bared your insides without regard.)

“… Fine.” You concede to him (hopefully he doesn’t prod you further. Bear your neck to him and perhaps the action will be enough to keep him interested and tempted but not to bite down.)

You refuse to look at him. You smash the last bits of a raspberry between your forefinger and thumb and watch the juices drip down your skin. It’s a pretty red that you suck off when it reaches the knuckle.

Diluc sighs, and perhaps scoffs, before the sound and motion of dough kneading resumes in your periphery.

“I’m sorry too,” you say, breaking the fragile reverie.

“You have nothing to apologize for,” Diluc speaks quickly. He’s not wrong, but you feel inclined to anyway.

(Your rage is more than justified. The thing bubbling under your skin— guilt, regret, topped with dread— is as well.)

You hop off the counter and teeter to bear your weight on your good foot. A hiss of pain gets caught behind your teeth and you chew the inside of your teeth. Diluc regards you, expectantly, hair spilling over his shoulders, half-hunched over his last ball of dough.

“I should give you the benefit of the doubt, at least a little.” You sigh. “I jumped for your throat, and that perhaps, wasn’t fair. You had a point, it was a long time ago—“

“Stop diminishing yourself. It’s painful.” Diluc interrupts you for once. “I deserve your ire. My reaction to your anger wasn’t justified or appropriate.”

“You stop being self-deprecating.” Guilt-ridden bastard. “Regardless of what you deserve, which I won’t be debating with you, I still care about you.”

(Love, probably. Most certainly.)

It’s an admission you don’t mean to give him. You instantly feel too vulnerable with the feelings; you wish you had kept it close to your chest and hidden. You watch your words cut him, and Diluc freezes. He’s so plain with his reaction that it’s almost comical. His eyes go wide and he goes stiff as a board. You don’t fare any better. You feel as though you’ve revealed a card in your hand that you shouldn’t have.

(You trade blows. One for one, flayed flesh for a split spine.)

You chew the inside of your cheek. You taste blood. Diluc clears his throat and collects himself. You leer away, laughing under your breath.

(A younger Diluc would’ve jumped at your words. Shown so brightly he could rival any hearth, become a human sun, if only for a moment. He would’ve gleamed. It’s difficult to admit that he’s darkened.)

He doesn’t return the sentiment— not directly. Not the same way.

Diluc finishes his dough and leaves it to rest before exiting the room without a word. You don’t get a chance to protest, he’s back so quickly, with a —staff— cane in his hand. A metal-caste owl sits at the top while the wood is stained a rich burgundy.

Diluc hands it to you.

“I don’t know if it’s sized correctly. I based it on the measurements Adelinde provided me.”

“… Thank you.”

You swallow and accept the gift. It is sized correctly, perfectly even, and it takes some adjusting to re-remember how to bear your weight on it. The ache in your foot lessens almost instantly, quelled.

“It surprised me, when you didn’t have a cane with a limp that severe,” Diluc says, watching you take a few test steps.

“I did have one— several. Previously.” You examine the metal owl with a frown. “Where did you get this?”

“My father’s study.”

“Diluc.” You freeze. “I can’t possibly accept a Ragnvindr family heirloom.”

“Nonsense.” He rolls his eyes. “It’s been collecting dust for decades. Make good use of it.”

“Diluc—”

“Take it. Don’t be so stubborn. You can hardly walk.” Diluc huffs, though the blush on his cheeks hasn’t waned. “What happened to your previous canes?

“Uhhh—” You drawl, clicking your tongue and examining the floor. “One was surely stolen. At least two broke? I definitely lost one at a pub— in Fontaine? I never got a chance to go back for it.” There was a village victim to a particularly bad flood that needed tending to. Canes can be replaced.

It takes you a moment to place the look on his face. His brows pinch. Mouth set in a line. Creases under his eyes—

Disapproving?

It snaps to something more neutral, a moment later. Unreadable and guarded, entirely expected and perhaps welcome. He returns to his baking, tidying up the kitchen with his back to you. You open your mouth, then close it a moment later.

(Later, there’s a knock on your door accompanied by a tray of steaming sweetbread, the rounds decorated with edible flowers and dusted with sweet flower pollen. Diluc apologizes, barely able to meet your eye. It should be insulting, but it’s cute, in a boyish way. You let it be cute. It doesn’t silence the pangs and pains in your chest, but it makes them easier to bear.)

(The sweetbread is delicious, and you half-wonder about the star map that led him to learn a skill so foreign to a lord like him.)

…

You aren’t sleeping well. Maybe it’s penance, for how well you slept your first days at the winery. Your body is, overall, less fatigued than before. The sleep debt you’d run up was somewhat satiated, which apparently meant not fucking sleeping—

(You could fall asleep, mind you. You just couldn’t stay that way. Dreams woke you each night, of memories and flashes, rib-breaking sensations, and the crunching of bone. Rain-soaked silk clinging to your arms and legs. A bloody nose. A hangover so bad you vomit red and black. A garnet red stone, set in black leather, round as low-set sun.)

(Fragments, really. Twisted and mangled together.)

You shoot up in bed, again, sweat dripping down your sternum, sticky on your forehead. The throb in your chest hardly wanes as you struggle to catch your breath. You clutch at the fabric over your collarbones, breathing through your mouth in light pants.

Your thoughts spin and tumble. It takes you a moment to distinguish moment from moment. Where you are. What you are. When you are.

Shifting for a sip of water, a shot of pain tangles around your foot and ankle. The muscle is drawn too tight with your fear, panic tugging the tendons wrong. You muffle your own pained wince, keeping it just a wince, and bite down on your lip.

You try to settle, after a while, praying that a few deep breaths release enough tension for a proper sleep. The electric zing that eats at your ankle keeps you awake, uncomfortable to the point of being unbearable. Your heart won’t stop racing with it.

You give up trying to sleep, instead wandering from your room with your new cane, and situate yourself in front of the great room’s dim hearth. You fuss with it, tossing another log and a bit of Pyro starter on the spitting embers. It catches, lights the room soft amber and you collapse on the lounge closest to it. You face your right foot toward the heat of the fire, hoping the heat loosens some of the bound-up muscle.

You splay out. Veg. Keep your eyes half-lidded and watch the fire lazily. Fixate on the licking flames and let the heat burn away your dream and hope it chases the physical pains too.

There’s a slam, when you’re beginning to nod off. Wood on wood— a door near the back of the manor. There are a few more bumps and thuds, ones you can’t place or recognize. You straighten up and listen to the heavy steps that follow. No one would be stupid enough to just break into Dawn Winery, not when Diluc’s fighting prowess is somewhat legendary in Mondstadt.

You don’t see Diluc enter, only hear him. His stride is wrong.

“You smell like blood.” You say with the tempo of the crackling flame. “Is it yours?”

Diluc freezes, just behind the lounge. Caught.

“Why are you awake?” He asks, unmoving.

You crane your neck and assess his condition as quickly as you can, “Couldn’t sleep. Are you injured?”

He sighs, “Not severely, it’s nothing you need to worry about.”

“Oh no, nuh-uh, let me see.” You reach for him around the lounge. “You can’t board a physician and then expect them to ignore you when you come back in the early hours of the morning blood-soaked. Besides, I’d be breaking oath.”

Diluc grumbles something under his breath but regardless comes around to you.

He’s not really bloodsoaked. Not entirely. He’s missing a glove and there’s a slice through the sleeve of his jacket, burnt at the edges. Dried blood coats his palm. You ask him to move his jacket, and you see a red stain blooming over his abdomen.

“Can you take off your jacket?”

“That’s not necessary.” He straightens his lapels and takes a step back. “My injuries are minor. Don’t strain yourself.”

“Diluc.” You narrow your eyes. “Let. Me. Help. This is literally my job.”

“You’re sleep-deprived.”

“Healing a flesh wound takes as much effort for me as it would take you to lift your sword.” You scoot forward on the couch, resisting tugging him closer. “It’s really no trouble. Please, Diluc.”

It must be your begging, maybe. You’re too engrossed in Diluc’s condition to notice how his cheeks pink. He shrugs off his overcoat, and you cajole him into peeling off his waistcoat as well. It sticks to his undershirt and you wince.

It’s easy to slip into your role as a healer. It’s a clinical way of thought, you’re presented with a problem and the way to fix it is apparent and well within your abilities. Seeing Diluc as a patient rather than… Diluc is a cheap trick, and perhaps if you were well-rested and less dissociative, you’d feel guilty.

“Were you burned?”

“Only singed.”

You hum thoughtfully, “I need to touch you to heal you. Is that alright?”

He nods, slowly, deliberately, “That’s fine.”

He’s not fully bare, so you need to do some exploratory touching. You’re not sure which is more vulnerable— for Diluc to be shirtless in front of you in the firelight or the way you lay your hands gently over his sides (ticklish, you recall. You watch him suppress a jump.) Your fingertips skim over his ribs, flares of Dendro wiggling into his skin. It bounces around, then back to you.

Three bruised ribs on his left side. Four-inch laceration on his right side.

“This will only take a moment.” You send a strong thread of Dendro through him. Liquid and lengthy, and carefully stitch the wound closed. The skin knits back together easily, clean and free of infection.

You move on to his next wound and Diluc moves a step closer.

“Your hand, please?” You ask, soft. The heat of the room has lulled you.

(The contact is weakening you.)

Diluc offers it to you, and you take it, as gently as you can. This wound has more burning, but nothing too severe.

Second-degree burns affecting seven inches of cumulative skin.

“Who the hell were you fighting?” You ask, brows furrowing as you cleansed and balmed the wound. You wince as your Dendro eats away the burn. “ What were you fighting?”

“Unimportant.”

“I hardly think so.”

“Drop it.”

“ Diluc—”

“Something that deserved it.”

You huff. “Fine, keep your secrets.”

We all have them.

The wound has healed, but you find it... hard let go of Diluc’s hand. It hits you how close he is. You sit with your legs spread and splayed, and he stands between them. He’s inches away, and you’re level to his navel.

You look up at him, swallowing the heat in your cheeks.

Diluc has always been pretty. Since he was little, just a cherubian boy running about the prairie grasses. He grew into it well, though he has gotten a bit more rugged over the time you were apart. You recognized scars littering his forearms, and felt scar tissue buried in new flesh. His hair has grown obscenely long, tied back with a ribbon into a bow. It's only half-up, now, spilling over his shoulder as he looks down at you.

Your breath catches in your throat. He swallows and you fixate on the bob of his throat.

(You haven’t been close to him like this in so long. Since you were young, having so many firsts together in his too-big bed. His hands look bigger, warmer. How many times did you crave him, the comfort and heat of him? How many times did you wish the stars were twisted and angled just a little differently, so that you never lost him in such a way?)

(To be so close— it’s an unavoidable thought.)

You squeeze his hand, “Do you want to be farther away?”

“No.” He squeezes yours back— harder. Longer. Like he’s afraid. It makes a fragile thing buried in your shake and fracture. “Do you?”

“No.” You swallow, but it’s late. And you’re weak. All crushed bones and scar tissue. “This might even be nice.”

‘This’ is loaded. Bigger than the word, bigger than the distance your traveled while crisscrossing Teyvat. Maybe bigger than the distance between the stars you scorn.

Diluc rubs a thumb over the back of your hand. It shakes. The heat of the fire and Diluc are making something warm and tender rise up from the base of your spine to the back of your skull. You shake with it.

“It is,” Diluc admits, voice thick and sticky. “Thank you.”

“Of course. It’s my job.”

“Not just that.” Diluc squeezes your hand again. Harder. Searing. “For allowing me this. You shouldn’t.”

“Don’t tell me what I should and shouldn’t do.” You frown. “You’re being silly. And self-loathing. Lord Ragnvindr, I wouldn’t ever expect such a thing from you.”

Diluc sputters a half-laugh, and for a moment, he sounds like the knight you first held hands with when you were young.

“I only mean to say that you have every reason to be upset and keep me at arm's length. I wouldn’t hold it against you if you did.”

“It’s not like I’m not upset with you.” You worry the fraying skin around his cuticle. “I’m indulging myself too, you know.”

(You dance around what this means so well. When did you both learn the steps, as aptly as you twirl now?)

“That’s comforting.” Diluc pulls his hand from yours and it flexes into a fist. He surprises you then— kneels, lowering onto his knees between your legs. You’re at eye level. You feel pleasantly faint. “You must tell me if I misstep.”

“Oh, you know I will.” You give a warbling laugh and your stomach flips.

So much of Diluc is unfamiliar, but proximity with him isn’t. The heat he radiates is the same as you remember, even if he’s a bit rougher and far more wilted. He hovers close, tentative, but not in the boyish, inexperienced way you once knew. He’s not expectant, he’s not taking and tugging and searching— he lingers but only comes so close, giving you the ability to make the first move.

He sets up the pieces but doesn’t force your hand to play. It’s wretched. It’s thoughtful, or it’s cowardice— either way, it's to your benefit.

Diluc licks his lips, throat bobbing. You can’t meet his eyes for too long— there, you see searching. He’s lost his way with words, and you can see the way he grapples for the right ones now.

“I missed you.”

(‘Right ones’. Subjective. The ones he gives you are objectively the wrong ones. Only because they force another fissure into you.)

(You’ve spent so long swallowing your own desires and convincing yourself that there was no possible way for Diluc to feel that way about you. You created any number of mental theses as to why Diluc discarded you. Anything to make it bearable.)

(Anything to make the past palatable and controllable.)

(Forget, forget, forget—)

You tense with the thought. Your wound pulls wrong and you yip. Shooting away from Diluc, you double over to your right side. You wrap your hand around your foot (wishing praying cursing that your Vision doesn’t allow you to touch your own wounds) and slap a hand over your mouth. The pain brings nausea and the last thing you want to do is vomit on Diluc.

Diluc immediately fusses, hands hovering over your shoulders and neck, but never touching. His Vision must be alight— you swear you can feel the lick of imaginary flames off his skin.

“You’re unwell.” Diluc kneels lower, hands apparently alright to touch, and he tries to shoo yours away from your ankle.

You hold fast, “It’s just a temperamental wound.” Your voice wavers and you rest your forehead on your knee. “I’m sorry for ruining the moment.”

“Hush, nothing’s ruined.” He idles his hand over your own. Your vision blurs and you really think you might throw up. “Let me see.”

“No.”

He says your name, like a cut.

“It’s already healed, Diluc. Just wrong. This happens. There’s no use poking at it.”

“Satiate my curiosity, then.”

“Why should I?”

“Because I’m asking honestly.”

You hesitate. Think if this is going to unearth something that you’d rather have stayed buried. Perhaps it was the distance, the heat from the hearth and Diluc in tandem making you melt into the couch—

“Fine. Only because of those sweetbreads the other day.”

You attempt to peel off your stocking, trembling, but Diluc stops you. His palm (so, so warm. Like the kindest flame) wrap around your wrist and places it back on your lap.

“Let me.”

Your mouth dries, tongue going heavy and useless. Tentatively, you scoot back on the couch and adjust so your right leg is fully extended. Your belly feels exposed, the softest parts of you bared in a way that feels foreign and uncomfortable.

Diluc waits until you situate yourself, resting patiently on folded knees. Palms on his thighs.

(He looks like he’s praying, like you’re the altar. This is both an indulgence and a rite.)

One of his wide hands hooks under your knees and lifts your injured foot from the ground. Diluc pushes your night clothes aside, finding the top edge of your stocking and slips his fingertips just below its edge. You jolt with the contact (what’s beyond touch starvation?) and hiss under your breath.

He pauses, flame licking in the reflection of his eyes, “Is this alright?”

You nod, his touch sears you.

He peels your stocking away. His touch drifts to the arch of your foot, wrapping his fingers around with enough force to be comfortable, secure. It almost burns— but in the good way. Open flame on nearly-frost-bitten fingers. The hot springs in Inazuma or the hot stone massages they favor in Natlan. It seeps into you.

The heat goes cold when Diluc stills, eyes widening and shoulders drawing up. You watch his jaw lock and you nearly rip your foot from his grip. Gruesome—

“How did this happen?” There are visible ridges of shattered bone, prominent enough to catch the shadows the fire throws. Two toes with mutilated nails, still. A scar or two.

“I fell.”

“Don’t lie.” snaps Diluc. “This is not the kind of injury you obtain from a ‘fall’.”

You start to sigh his name, but he cuts you off—

“How.”

“I. Fell.” You grit out. Your chest hurts again.

Diluc traces the worst of it— a diagonal scar on the bottom of your foot, from the ball of it to your big toe. (You don’t remember the moment, only the sensations. The feeling of the knife slicing, hitting things it shouldn’t—)

You jolt, squirm, protest under your breath but Diluc tightens his grip, firm and unyielding.

“P-Please—” Your voice breaks and you lurch and grab his shoulders without thinking. Steadying yourself, grounding yourself on the bulk of him. “Please, don’t pry on this one, Diluc. Not tonight.”

(Perhaps you’ll muddle through the memory of it to give to Diluc. One day. Not now, when you feel like the gooey center of you shifts a little too close to seeping out of the spaces between your ribs. If you fall apart, will you ever collect yourself back up again?)

Diluc stills and stares at you. Into you. A little wrinkle appears between his brows, a half-scowl formed in the curve of his pretty lips. It makes your heart pound. You nearly backpedal, tell him the whole truth, the one you’ve shoved down your throat like chrysanthemum petals. The garden you’d throw up—

He relents. Allows you respite. You take it greedily.

Diluc coaxes you to lie back down on the couch, touch hovering most of the time. His contact ginger, “You don’t have to give me anything you don’t want to.”

The assurance hits you in the chest. Like a crack that bludgeons your sternum in three.

“‘Kay. Thanks.” You say. Two words is all you can get out around the threads that bind you upright and together.

Diluc sits back on his haunches, going back to your foot. The pads of his thumbs massage at your ankle, slow and light at first as he gauges your reaction. You swallow thick, watching him with darkening pupils. His touch moves higher, up your calf, shifting your bed clothes aside.

He’s more worn. Calluses make the skin of his thumbs just a bit rougher than you expect. The vision on his waist thrums and throws light as he touches you. Pressing his heat into you. His touch makes you goopy. You slouch into the couch.

He never ventures higher than your knee, but it’s enough. Maybe it’s too much. The lack of sleep and the fucking heat put you in a state just above sleep. He’s horribly gentle with you, pausing and noting every twitch and jolt you shake out. Asks low and quiet if a certain touch is too much. It’s all overwhelming— decadent. You glut yourself on it, just a bit. The pain of the injury dissolves and all that you’re left with is Diluc. Dutifully petting you and soaking you in something rich and spiced.

You only feel warm. It spreads up your body— cows the shaking little thing between your ribs. Diluc relaxes you into a slump that has you sleepily blinking, perhaps keening once or twice— you can’t recall. Perhaps Diluc slides back on your stocking and helps you up. Perhaps he guides you up the stairs and back to your guest room.

(You think about inviting him in. You think about dragging him down and in to bring him closer to that thing in your chest that festers, balm it.)

(You think better of it.)

(You’re too tired to notice the way he lingers on you. His hands, holding you a moment too long. The squeezes to your sides and arms as he walks with you up the stairs. Even when your own breath stutters, you’re unaware. Blissfully ignorant to the effect you have on Diluc.)

You dream of it, maybe. Warmth and heat and familiarity that isn’t wretched. You dream of favorable stars and a warm bed.

...

Something shifts between the two of you after that. Even if the moment of vulnerability was brief, it's like a rift has opened up in your chest. Split. Cleaved. Archons.

You feel the inexplicable urge to be near Diluc, despite all of the unsettled anger that burns in your belly. The memory of the heat of him is an intoxicant in and of itself. The way Diluc touched you like you were something fragile— cherished.

(Archons, you’re fucked, aren’t you?)

You avoid Diluc, somewhat. You take to watching him instead. Perching in your bay window, you watch him work in the fields during the mornings and evenings, and listen to him thump around in his office during the midday when the sun is high. He receives a guest or two, maybe, there’s always activity in the main foyer of the winery. You suppose, given that the manor functions as both a home and a business, and it’s the busiest season for Dawn Winery, it makes sense.

Elzer, actually, is the one who gives you a bit of grief for it.

“He doesn’t bite, you know,” Elzer tells you when you perch on his desk, early one morning while Diluc is out. “You may even enjoy talking to him.”

“We have talked.” You clear your throat, pounding your chest. “Just. It’s complicated.”

“I’m aware.”

Elzer was around, during your tenure as ‘master’ of Dawn Winery. Though Adelinde grew closer to you, Elzer was still a reliable and kind confidant. More-versed in the business end of things than either of you were, and from him you learned a great deal. He, in turn, learned a great deal about you. Adelinde too. Gods, how many nights did you sit at this same desk, organizing mislabeled paperwork over goblets of wine and teacakes?

“Does your wrist still bother you?” you ask.

“You’re deflecting,” deadpans Elzer.

“You’re not answering my question, either.”

He rolls his eyes. “Yes. It does. I take a tincture for it sometimes.”

“... Can I see it— your wrist? Let me have a look.”

He holds out his arm and you shift around the desk to prop yourself up on the same side he sits on. Your cane lays idle against the matching mahogany. There’s a reluctant pull at his brow, but he still scoots forward on his seat, rolling up his sleeve.

Taking his arm in a gentle, practiced grip, you send sparks of Dendro through him. Elzer’s brow scrunches with the feeling— you’ve been told it can be jarring if you’ve never experienced Vision healing before. You tighten your grip.

You smooth a finger over the meat of his thumb. “Tendonitis, still?”

“You always said that’s what it was, but never gave me anything conclusive back then.”

“Well, it certainly is,” you huff. Inflammation crawls around the tendons of his hand and wrist, stretching into his shoulder.

You sink a balm of Dendro into him, rather than sparks, more like a sheet. Elzer visibly relaxes, hand going a bit more slack and loose in your grip. Sagging forward, like a ragdoll with half-cut string. Your other hand rises to steady him, firm and solid against his shoulder.

“Does Diluc work you too hard?” You send another wave of it through. “I’ll chew him out, if you want. I have nothing to lose.”

“He doesn’t.”

“Oh, so it’s just the bad posture?”

Elzer snorts and you can’t help but laugh with him. It’s easy to rib him, like a little brother. He was practically your same age, but he always kept the aura of someone your junior. As adept as he was at everything he did, there’s a boyish charm to him that hasn’t faded with time.

You barely see him out of the corner of your eye— Diluc. Rounding a corner with an armful of papers. His grip goes tight and his steps stutter as he enters the little atrium. Elzer tenses behind you. The Dendro lingering in him bounces back to you.

Diluc clears his throat, fist over his mouth. He looks at Elzer, then you, and clears his throat again—

“Ah, I suppose I’m interrupting working hours. Apologies.” You shrug and hop off the desk. Wobbling past Diluc, you disappear into the shadows of the house.

It’s intentional, really. You don’t want to give Diluc any more of an opening than he already had and fuck— you saw him, didn’t you? The way he drew up, the fire that ignited in his eyes at the closeness—

Archons, Diluc, jealous?

The thought is too sticky to cope with. You retire for a nap early in the afternoon.

...

Nightmares come for you again, and you busy yourself wandering the halls of Dawn Winery. It’s a moonless night, and far too dark to be wandering without a lantern or candle, but you do so anyway. Adelinde and Elzer are surely asleep, as with the rest of the staff. You assume that Diluc is out, as he tends to be late at night. The tap of your cane against the wooden floors echoes against the silence of the rest of the winery.

Your latest nightmare felt repetitive. The same images, the same feeling of being untethered against an unstoppable swell. Drowning but without water. Asphyxiating on something that crawls up from your lungs.

(Red, rotten memories. Rotten.)

(Forget, Forget, Forget.)

You pause in front of a particular door in the south wing. Ambient light from the manor bounces off its brass handle, polished by clearly tarnished with time. Its design is different from the crystal doorknobs Diluc has replaced around the rest of Dawn Winery. Its original, untouched— a relic.

You pause in front of a particular door in the south wing. You know this door. The wood, unlike most of the rest of the manor, hasn’t been re-stained or replaced. It’s the same dark tone you remember from your youth, and the knob shines the same brassy gold. It appears unchanged.

You wonder if you’re still dreaming.

Clearly, you aren’t, as you enter the room. Your nose burns as you do. A layer of dust covers everything— the table that cuts the room in two, the stacks of discarded books, and old, dry quill. An untouched pile of blankets and pillows in the corner appears to be lightened, sun-bleached.

You kick the pile and laugh, something low and a little defeated.

The Small Study hasn’t been touched. Never redone, not even cleaned. It’s entirely preserved and more painful to see because of it.

(So much tied up in a simple room. You had avoided it at first, didn’t you? You knew everything that happened here. A love that bloomed, a betrayal, your own decay.)

All that’s left is the skeleton of the room. Flesh eaten by time and memory, consumed to this point where there’s nothing further to rot. Just a vague shape to mourn.

Based on the absolute state of neglect and disuse, you assume that Diluc hasn’t poked around this room much, or at all, in the time since he returned. You’re grateful that— you hid a secret or two here that now feel too dangerous to have in the open.

(Despite the fact that it’s clear this place is too painful for Diluc to touch, too. He’d never find the bits of you that you buried here.)

You tug down a leather-bound book from a shelf, eye-level (still), and rub dust off the spine. Over the cover is embossed some type of Fontainisian design, swirls of gold concentric circles and feathering blots of blue and purple over the leather. It was a gift, back then. Something artisanal that a craftsperson brought to Mond’s market— One of the many gifts Crepus gave to you in the months before his passing.

You curse under your breath, pressing your fingertips in the cover. There’s a ring of teeth marks on one corner— your teeth. Had you really bitten the cover in a fit of frustration?

(Probably. Your memory feels fuzzy and fragmented. Broken glass— you can’t pick them up without risking slicing your hand wide and bloody.)

A door shuts, a heavy one, somewhere else in the manor. Diluc has returned. Part of you itches to seek him out, survey him for injuries and help where you can. It takes you nothing to stitch and sew him up. Healing a wound for Diluc feels like a twisted debt paid, maybe. He isn’t aware of it.

Being in the Small Study makes you horribly aware of it.

The pages of your old journal feel brittle and dry against your fingers. Some stick together, even now, with dried ink that you spilled over the pages. Some of the script is illegible, your pen having muddled into something beyond understanding. What you are able to read, you try not to absorb. It’s only morbid curiosity that has you peeking at it, at all.

(You should probably burn the thing. It has far too many secrets written in it.)

Diluc calls your name from the door, and you freeze. The journal is easily tucked back in place.

“Yes?” You don’t look at him, but twirl on your heel to the middle of the room. As if you should be there.

(Maybe you should be, for him. All you are is a relic to him, maybe. Something from the past that should stay that way. Aren’t you just a skeletal remain?)

(The thought persists.)

“What are you doing in here?” Diluc asks, lacking any edge. He rests his hip on the long table.

You consider the question, mull over it and roll your answer around on your tongue.

“Reminiscing, I guess,” you say, it’s too late to be dishonest. “I couldn’t sleep.”

“That seems to be a pattern.”

“Reminiscing?”

“I meant your inability to sleep through the night.” Diluc sees through your diversion. You let him, cow your barely there instinct to fight him.

You sigh and laugh, weak, “I suppose.”

Diluc’s gaze is on you— you can feel it. You kick at the floorboards, counting the swirls and irregular notches. It’s easy to imagine the look he must be wearing. Pity, maybe. You feel like a stray cat, cornered and hungry, but ever-wary.

“May I ask why?”

You click your tongue, “Guess, and if you’re right, I’ll tell you.”

“Isn’t it a bit late for a game like this?”

“Call me a night owl.” You clamor on top of the table and sit semi-cross-legged, with your injured ankle extended.

“... Your injury?” Diluc asks.

You shake your head.

“... You always ran cooler. Are you cold?”

“Maybe a bit, but not really.”

Diluc stalls, and you can see him sort out the correct answer. He’s known it since the beginning of this conversation, but you’re both so fluent in denial, you might as well dance together in it for a while.

“Dreams?”

You nod.

Diluc opens his pretty, petal lips to speak, then thinks better of it. Instead, he removes his jacket and lays it over his arm. You expect him to prod you.

“Would you like some tea?” Diluc asks. “It may settle you, allow you a proper rest.”

Tea sounds nice, you think. Something warm and someone warm. You know better than to walk so close to him when you’re so shredded at the ribs and tummy. Vulnerable. You know better.

(Then why is the idea of closeness with him so intoxicating? You don’t care about the potential consequences, not really. Your tangle of emotions feels superseded by desire, and you’re barely holding onto self-control.)

(Archons, you want to let go, just a little.)

The threads loosen, just a fraction.

“I’ll take tea,” you admit. “I think there’s some of the sweet bread rounds left too.”

When you look up, Diluc has a simple smile painting the edges of his lips. It’s small, nearly uncatchable, but you recognize it immediately. You resist the urge to go to him and press into the dimple that carves his right cheek.

It’s awful, the way your heart seizes in your chest, nearly breaking you down your center. You twin him with your own smile, a small one— lest you burst in the middle of the Small Study.

(Where everything began to fall apart.)

(Forget, forget, forget.)

...

You both sip cups of tea and pass a packed, cherrywood pipe back and forth on Diluc’s balcony. It’s sizable, enough room for you to curl up against the railing, far enough from Diluc to not feel crowded, but still accept the pipe each time he passes it to you. The tobacco smoke feels thick and rich in your mouth, and you resist the urge to draw it too far back into your throat. You instead distract yourself with the smoke that lazily curls from your lips with each exhale.

(You catch Diluc entranced by it as well, the way your lips fall open.)

The sky feels starless; heavy clouds cover the cosmos low. You imagine it’ll rain again in the next few days, especially with the ache in your injury. The air bears down on you, just like the clouds do. You crave a moon or single star to fixate on, rather than proximity or the inevitability of an interaction.

You’ve become truly versed in avoidance.

Diluc looks... perplexed. Perhaps lighter than he did in the study. His shoulders sag more than they did before, and he almost looks to be melting into the chair he sits in. His heavy coat had been left behind in his room as you passed through, leaving him more bare. You can see blood seep up from flesh wounds, staining the white of his shirt, but he’d already brushed off your concern that evening. You didn’t have it in you to fight him on it— you vow to patch him up in the morning if you can catch him before he starts his daily business.

You must, really.

The quirk between his brows bothers you. The draw of his lips and the way he’s purely staring at you.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” You frown. Prodding seems like a bad idea, given your exhaustion and the maw that’s cracked open between your ribs.

Diluc seems to stare harder. If that is possible. He sits before, elbows on his knees, and folds his hands. Covers his mouth with them. They’re thick and worn, unfamiliar to you. You can’t stop looking at them. You recall him having beautiful pianist’s hands, slender and sure-fingered. It’s easier to fixate on some trivial, physical difference rather than his expression. It’s verging on vulnerable. He withdraws to take a drag.

“I don’t know how to put you together,” Diluc admits. He snaps his teeth around the smoke.

You tilt your head quizzically.

Diluc chews on his words, looks at you, and then away. He takes another draw from the pipe and sighs. “You confuse me. You never used to confuse me.”

There’s a pressure behind your eyes that wasn’t there before. “How do I confuse you now?”

Diluc exhales. He smells like fresh smoke, ash, and the heat from a flame. And he looks at you and his gaze is soft. The pull of his lip and brow, the shine to his eyes— he looks hopelessly fond and sad. Heartbroken, even. There’s a smear of soot under his eye and you resist the buried impulse to wipe it away as something in your cracks. Threads snap.

“I’m not sure I know you anymore.”

(It hurts, it hurts, it hurts to hear— no one knew you better than Diluc. You’ve made yourself a stranger, and you must now reap what you’ve sewn. You’re just a vagrant in his home, fit for healing and burden and nothing more—)

Your eyes burn and you tear your gaze to the fields, “What a surprise. It’s not as if I’ve been around for your to be familiar with.”

“I understand why you left Mondstadt,” Diluc tells you, hushed like he is speaking to a frightened cat. Maybe that’s what you are. “I know it must’ve been very lonely.”

You almost snap at him. You almost scream—

(“I hate you! I hate you! I hate you for knowing me and knowing how I felt and being gone and leaving me here to ache all alone. I hate that you know me so well and forgot.”)

You don’t.

“I had Elzer and Adelinde,” you say. “Dawn Winery was hardly empty. I don’t need your pity.”

“It’s not pity.” Diluc doesn’t sound offended. “Never pity.”

“Sure.”

“You don’t believe me?”

“Not entirely.” You wish the stars were out. You’d have something tangible to direct your ire toward. “What else would it be?”

Diluc sighs, not resigned, but you can hear the exhaustion in it. He’s wounded, he needs rest. You both do.

(You both need so much rest.)

Your nose burns and you sniffle.

“I still care for you, even if you are unfamiliar to me.” He says quietly, low, sweet, and gentle because it's only meant for the two of you to hear.

You meet his gaze violently. Your neck nearly snaps turning to him, and you have to bite your bottom lip to keep from crying. You feel fragile, so close to crumbling.

“Don’t toy with me.” Your voice wobbles, your conviction does not.

“I’m not.” He assures you. “I wouldn’t.”

“You’re a wretched man.” You tell him. There’s no bite to your words.

“For you, I’d be better.”

“No— that’s—” You rub your eyes. “ Stop it.”

“Stop what? I’m not sure I can.”

(You don’t say: “Please stop being so kind. If you keep being kind to me, I’ll never leave. I’ll take every scrap you feed me and pretend it makes me a king. I’ll open myself up for heartbreak to be by your side. If you keep being kind to me—”)

(You don’t say: “I’ll think that you love me still.”)

Diluc cups your jaw and says your name, soft and slow and easy.

You’re sedated, because Diluc looks just as frightened as you feel, and speaks as earnestly as he did when he was young. When you used to lay over his chest and count the summer freckles he was blessed with. When he used to hold your cheeks, pressing your lips together, overzealous and honest, like how young lovers do. Like the young lovers you were.

Would this be easier, if you really were two strangers, sharing a pipe and tea? If there really was an ocean and deep sea more than changes of appearance or the way you hold yourself. You know it’s you— that you’ve changed since Diluc saw you. Last saw you— the day of his eighteenth birthday—

The feeling in your chest is violent. Shreds you. Tears you open. You ball the fabric of your sleep clothes in your fist, over your heart, and almost wince.

“I’m sorry,” is the first thing you think to say. You don’t know what you’re apologizing for.

“Don’t apologize, you’ve done nothing wrong.” He rubs a thumb over your cheek, and his touch and voice tremble.

“What if I have?” you half-admit, flashing him a withered smile.

(Forget, forget, forget.)

(A red stone like the garnet they tug out of the Chasm’s walls. Rounded. Pulsing. In the left palm of a man who could’ve been your father.)

“Then, I’ll help you fix it if you like.” He can’t. Diluc lets go of you, only to stand and fix a hold on your wrist.

“It’s not that simple.” You’re already saying too much. Forget, forget, forget. Shove it down into your chest, to the back of your mind.

You remain sitting on the cold ground of the balcony. Your leg remains splayed on the cobblestones, splinted and aching. You can’t bear to look up at him. You want to cry. Maybe, in the daylight, past dawn— you’d be better at facing this. You want tea. You want to sleep. You want to weep—

(into Diluc’s lap. To beg him for things that feel unfair to ask.)

“Why did you ask me to have tea with you?” you ask. “If it was to share smoke and try to have this conversation or two when we’re both clearly”— you gesture to yourself, balled up, and Diluc, bloodied— “not our best, I will retire to my room. I don’t want to... I can’t broach this.”

(“Yet.”)

(It’s inevitable, isn’t it? One you feel in the stars, rushing toward you.)

“It was never my intention to push you.” Diluc rushes to assure you. You look out the pitch-black vineyard, and Diluc kneels in front of you. “I didn’t—”

You snap, voice wobbling, “What do you want—?”

“I want to know you again,” Diluc tells you, confesses, breathlessly. He sounds like a (your) lover again. “I want nothing more. Just let me, please.”

(You haven’t heard Diluc beg in so long. You remember how he’d beg you for the extra candies that Teacher would give you after lessons. Diluc would beg you to trace shapes on his arm and the nape of his neck when you’d stay up whispering to each other during Mond’s cruelest winter nights. He’d plead for you to ride on his horse, with him, rather than your own.)

You squirm under your skin and refuse to look at him. If you do, you’ll shatter. You have to hold it together, just a little longer— until the end of Windblume, then you’ll leave, you’ll fucking run—

And Diluc says your name, begs you, “Look at me, please.”

“If I do, I’ll cry.” Your voice wobbles far more than you thought it would.

“That’s okay.”

“It’s not—” You laugh, and barely look at him out of the corner of your eyes. “I can’t start crying, Diluc. I’ll never stop.”

“That’s alright.” Diluc sounds like he might cry. “I’ll take you, however you are.”

He sounds romantic.

You look at him.

He looks soggy— wilted, like the way two-day-old cut flowers do. Still beautiful, because Diluc Ragnvindr is nothing if not attractive. Hair spilling down his shoulders, a fresh scrape over his cheek, eyes that crinkle in between because he looks as gutted as you feel.

And you laugh, something weak and small and feeble. A barely there noise you only let out to distract from the tears that wet your bottom lashes.

“... What do you want to know?” you ask him. Forcing yourself to settle, bear it, and look at him.

Diluc’s eyes go wide. The barest hints of joy squeeze the skin around his eyes and you see a boyish smile on his lips you’d forgotten he knew how to wear. You want to kiss it, him, because the feeling in your chest is bursting. The craving, need— to kiss him stupid and share it with him is overwhelming.

“Everything.”

You’re damned, surely.

“I don’t think I can give you that yet,” you tell him, honestly. “I’m still mad at you.”

“That’s alright,” he placates you. “I want to know about that, too. Anything you’ll give me.”

It’s an awful admission, really. That he cares to know you.

(Some part of you, festered for so long. Convinced yourself of untrue things because it was easier than facing an uncertain reality. The mere idea of Diluc caring for you breaks a small delusion that you wouldn’t be welcomed. That the boy you’d love and linked pinkies with was dead and gone far from you.)

(He’s here, right in front of you.)

You shift forward without thinking. Onto your knees, with your injured side limp, and you press your forehead into Diluc’s shoulder. It’s stiff, with your arms still tucked to your center, protecting your most soft and vulnerable bits. It’s all you can give him.

Diluc turns tense, then slack, so slack, like he’s been doused in warm water and left to dry in midday sun. You feel the muscle against your cheek go limp and you press your eyes into the smokey fabric. It dampens beneath you and you’re too tired to care.

(You’re being chipped down— It was inevitable, wasn’t it? Returning to Mond meant this. Part of you always knew that.)

His hand cups the back of your skull and you shiver with it. Warm and big, just like he has become with the years. He presses his thumb and ring finger into your scalp, scratching, and something between a sob and a wince gets caught in your throat.

“Is this alright?” Diluc asks.

“More than.” You keep yourself from weeping on him, barely. Instead, you grip the loose fabric against his chest and smother yourself in him.

...

There’s a part of you that you can’t quiet— the fragment that whispers and thrashes “this is an awful idea” and “stop it, before you get sucked so deep into him that you can’t climb out.” It’s the part of you that keeps your arms wrapped around your middle and only lets you drag your lips over Diluc’s throat without rhyme or reason. It’s mindless, never a kiss, because that would cross an invisible gulf you dare not to breach.

Diluc leads you inside, hand in hand. You wonder if he can feel how you’re shaking, beginning to fracture from the inside out. You already have been. You’re pouring out from your seams.

“I’m going to fetch more tea, I’ll be back in a moment.” Diluc steps toward the door and a bolt of panic shoots through you. It hurts, physical, dread-filled pain that has you stumble up, toward him, reaching out desperately for him.

(“Please don’t go, please don’t go, please don’t go. Not again.”)

You grab his sleeve and ball your fist in the fabric.

Diluc attempts to placate you. “Rest, it’s alright. I’m just going to the kitchens.”

You say nothing and tug him tighter. Closer.

(Part of you wants to kick Diluc away and lock the door behind him. There’s another that wants you to fall to your knees, and beg him to stay close. He’s given you a morsel and you should know better than to roll over for scraps but—)

(You’re so scared. So scared you’ll lose his heat all over again.

You listen to the latter part as you drop to your knees in front of Diluc, just steps into his bedroom.

You’re not sure what possesses you—

(You do. You’re distracting Diluc from whatever sticky, honeyed thoughts he is having by replacing them with something more carnal. Physicality is just that— physical. Tangible and touchable and far easier to fixate on the immaterial.)

(... Right?)

Diluc breathes your name, wide-eyed as you brace your palms on his thighs. You can feel how tense he is. The thick rug against the floor cushions your knees.

“What are you doing?” His voice is small.

“I want to make you feel good.” You ask, running your hands up to his waistband and begin to untuck his dirtied shirt, “May I?”

Diluc gives you a look. It’s all apprehension and worry, creasing the lines of his pretty face. He works his jaw as you toy with the leather of his belt.

(You understand it, really.)

(You don’t like the look he gives you, but you don’t know which one you’d rather see him wear. Hatred would perhaps be better. Desire would be the worst.)

(Diluc had always been the sure-footed one. Confident, but never cocky or boisterous. Even in the ways you’ve seen him now, he’s been firm and familiarly stubborn. But, at the sight of you below him, offering, he’s creased over in apprehension.)

Diluc gives you an almost imperceptible nod and tucks his bottom lip between his teeth. You smother your smile into the fabric of his trousers before palming him. He’s soft, though hardening under the layers of fabric. Your hands tremble as you undo his belt— maybe they’re going numb at your fingertips. It’s hard to tell.

It’s easier to pull Diluc’s cock free and stroke idly. You flash him a smile, you don’t know how real it looks.

(You love him.)

He is pretty. It’s not the first time you’ve seen his cock— hardly, but it’s been so long and his body is in so many ways unrecognizable. Even from the sliver of skin visible at his waistline, he has scars. Thick and thin, burns— he’s decorated in them.

(You wonder how many you could’ve prevented.)

The thought rots something in you and your hands tremble.

His cock though— his dick, that’s what you’re focused on. You fixate on the head of him, half-hard, pitching forward to press a kiss to him. Diluc makes an unholy, high noise, and you latch on to the sound of it. You lap at his slit and savor any pearls of precum that you taste.

Pulling away, you spit into your hand, and stroke the length of him. Your ears are ringing.

You look up at him, neck aching, and push the bottom of his shirt up. “You should hold this between your teeth, hm?”

Diluc’s almost trembling, shaking as he nods and puts the hem of the shirt between his teeth. It’s compromising, surely. He’s suddenly so bare, and you’re on his floor, clothed. Mostly. Your robe is slipping, revealing bare shoulders and an unblemished collar. You’re sure it’s doing something to him. It has to, you hope it does.

You stall as he bares his chest to you.

(So many wounds, healed and sealed. Most of these are new. Even with his battle prowess— what has he been doing to himself? To be so battered must mean that he put himself in harm’s way, above his abilities. Or face a foe he hadn’t expected.)

You tremble.

You purse your lips and flatten your tongue. The taste of him is distracting, pleasantly. It’s more musk than smoke, all him in a way that makes you swallow him down more. One of his hands hesitantly rests against the side of your head. He doesn’t push or shove you. The contact is so light, it almost feels like he’s hovering rather than making contact.

(Is he in pain? Does he have old wounds, like yours, that he’s just better at hiding? He was always the type to suffer in silence. Diluc wouldn’t tell you if he was hurting, would he? You’d only been able to goad him into letting you heal him when he was clearly returning home from a brawl, blood-stained, or both.)

You hum around his length and dig your fingertips into his thighs. Corded muscle covered by a layer of fat. Your mouth waters at the thought of taking a bite of him.

(You know he bruises easily.)

It’s hard to breathe— you hadn’t realized Diluc’s size when you endeavored to suck his cock, but you’re feeling it now. You bully him further down, forcing yourself to relax until the head of his cock nudges the back of your throat.

Diluc says your name so breathlessly, pinched around the edges. Your eyes stay shut and you anchor yourself on sensation. The heat of Diluc, radiating into you from the inside, the desperate way he breathes through his teeth and the shirt tucked between them. You hum around him and relish the choked sound that he can’t hold back.

(Like this, whatever is simmering under your skin and behind your eyes feels duller. You can chase sensation, grip it so hard it hurts, and bring pleasure at the same time. Isn’t this—)

You begin to bob your head, shallow, once, twice, and then a third time— And with a broken-sounding groan, Diluc comes down your throat.

It’s fast. It’s unexpected. The only warning you had was the way Diluc’s hand tightened around your skull, not pushing, but firm. Your eyes stretch wide as you try to swallow his release. It’s— a lot, more than you expect, and it spills from the corners of your mouth. Diluc jerks his hips, clearly involuntary, and you properly choke on him.

And then he pulls out of your mouth, dripping and sticky and softening, and you hang your head, swallowing thickly and coughing. The ringing in your ears is worse, and the world feels far away. Even Diluc’s heat feels lukewarm. It’s not peace, nor unsettling, something in the middle that is more unpleasant than pleasant. It’s hard to focus.

It’s easier, when Diluc goes to his knees next to you. He’s hastily tucked his cock away, belt still unbuckled. There’s dirt and singed fabric on his knees— you still haven’t checked his injuries. Foolish.

You reach out a hand (are you really shaking that hard?), Dendro curling around your fingers. Diluc catches your wrist and holds it steady.

The ringing in your ears clears enough to hear him say your name. It’s hard to register. You send the Dendro through his wrist instead— how many fractures has he had on that bone? The scar tissue—

Diluc says your name once more, more sharply, more worried— and he cups your jaw and tilts your face up to his.

“Oh,” you reply softly. Your voice is wrecked. “Hi.”

“Hello.” Diluc’s brow is creased, relief bleeding in his voice. “Are you—”

“I’m fine.” You pat his hand that’s on your jaw. “Peachy. You taste good.”

It’s fun to watch Diluc flush even more— he always has always blushed easily. It spreads down his neck and up to his ears. You mindlessly lay the back of your free hand over the cheek to feel how warm he is. Burning. You swear he’ll scorch you alive.

“I don’t—” Diluc shakes his head, rubbing at your cheeks. It’s intimate. If your ears weren’t ringing, you’d be on the other side of the room by now. Maybe Mond. Maybe Teyvat.

“What’s wrong?” you ask him. You feel breakable beneath your haze. “Is something wrong?”

Diluc looks at you. Really looks at you. Though you look back at him, the world is too fuzzy to take account of details.

(If you could, you’d see concern. Wretched, awful concern and care that he has kept tucked so far away from you since you’ve returned. You closed the distance so swiftly between the two of you, violently, and Diluc is split wide with it.)

“You’re—” Diluc presses a finger down to your pulse point. “Your heart’s beating so fast.”

“Uh-huh.” You nod. “I couldn’t breathe for a moment there.”

“That’s not it.” Diluc counters you, but doesn’t argue. Instead, he strokes over your cheeks, conflicted.

You reach out without thinking and tug the black ribbon from his hair. It spills over his shoulders— the waves are a mess. You see snarls and soot. Maybe even chunks burned together.

“Can I brush your hair?” You ask, running a hand through it and grimacing as your fingers get caught. “No, I should wash it first.”

“No,” Diluc says sharply. It startles you enough that you jump. It makes him wilt even more. “You won’t.”

“But I can—?”

“That doesn’t mean you should,” Diluc says softly, squeezing your shoulder.

Diluc has been so incredibly tentative, almost unsure, about any sort of physical contact with you prior. But, in this moment, he’s so sure.

He presses his lips to your forehead, firm and unyielding. It’s so warm— like a hearth that’s always been lit and rolling. High enough to cook a pot over but not enough to burn you down. You’d forgotten this part of his heat.

(How could you?)

“Indulge me?” he asks, lips soft against your skin.

“... In what way?”

“Sleep in my bed,” he says softly. “With me.”

You frown. “You don’t need to return the gesture.”

“That’s not why I’m asking.” Diluc pulls away and presses his lips to your wrist instead. He must be able to feel your pulse.

You consider.

(You’re not within yourself. You’re floating; it’s not his fault. Circumstance and sleeplessness and the horror of intimacy do such things, you know. It’s a tempting offer when Diluc’s heat is so comforting.)

(When he is so comforting.)

“Are you sure?” you ask.

Diluc nods. “More than.”

(Is it really greed, if he invites you?)

“Okay.”

Diluc makes you tea. Scenes seem to skip before your eyes. One moment, Diluc is gone, then in the en suite bathroom, then beside you with a warm cup. The order of these events changes the longer you think about it.

The tea grows colder in your hands and Diluc coaxes you to drink it.

He’s thrown on some soft linen sleep clothes. You get distracted by the obscenely deep-v of the cut, and it takes Diluc repeating your name a few more times to bring you back, closer to the present moment.

Exhaustion catches you quickly once you’re horizontal. It’s easier to fall into and accept when you’re surrounded by the smell of Diluc and his heat. Him. It’s too daunting to touch him fully like this, but you face him when you lie down. You both grab the other’s hand, and squeeze in tandem.

“Is this alright?” he asks.

You nod, burying your nose in the sheets. “Yeah. Was earlier bad?”

“No,” Diluc says quickly. It’s too dark with the candles blown out, but you imagine him blushing. “Strange, maybe, but not bad. I didn’t expect it. I would prefer some notice, if you’re going to proposition me again.”

There’s something left unsaid after, but you can’t make yourself pry.

You’re so whittled down, really. You’re just bones and cracking flesh and tears burgeoning before falling. The idea of sharing a big, warm bed with Diluc, despite everything unresolved and open and festering, breaks something in you.

(You’ve been so hungry. Starved. Emaciated and just fucking dealing with it. And now you’re offered a feast on a platter and you’re horribly loyal, at your core.)

“I don’t share beds often.” A memory bubbles up to the surface.

Diluc plays with your hair, scratching at your scalp, motions nearly scalding and circular. “It doesn’t seem like you’ve kept much company on your travels.”

“Only a few times.” A melancholy smile twists your lips. A memory drags you down from floating. “I was engaged, once, you know.”

Maybe it’s cruel to say, and part of you revels in the way Diluc squeezes your hand so tightly it almost hurts. “... You were?”

“Yes.”

“Betrothed?”

“Yeah.” You smother a laugh into the buttery sheets. “She was a healer in Fontaine. We met when I stayed in her village to tend to victims of a fungal plague. She asked me to marry her after I’d stayed with her for a while.”

“But, you didn’t go through with it?” Diluc's voice sounds tight. Or, you’re imagining it.

“No.” You bring your legs up, curling around yourself. “I couldn’t. I called things off a few weeks before the wedding.”

“Why?”

You think, think— because it’s been a long time, and the memory has become scattered. The face of the woman who was almost your wife is nearly gone in your memory. You remember the sound of her laugh, the color of her hair, and the way her home smelled when she burned her favorite candles. But— but—

“I couldn’t do it.” You feel withered. “She treated me so well. I could have lived well. The village cared for me and it would’ve been a kind life.”

You choke on the sound of your own laughter. Morose. You wrap your arms around Diluc’s one, burying your face in his bicep like it’ll take the burning away from your chest.

“... Why couldn’t you?” he asks.

(Because it wasn’t here. It wasn’t him.)

“You know, at the Akademiya, there’s a whole Darshan dedicated to studying stars and the alignment of the cosmos.” You tangle a leg with Diluc’s. You’ll give him this much, another admission. “They say that fate’s written up there— for all of us.”

Diluc pulls you closer, under your thighs, slotting you together. It’s like you were made to be that way.

“I guess Celestia didn’t deign for me to stay in that village forever and get married.” You ache, all over.

(But the stars did bring you back here. To Mond. To him.)

Diluc’s breath catches. He holds you tighter.

“They took you away too, though.” You curl the fabric of his shirt in your chest, over his heart. Like you could rip it out— (just like how he ripped out yours.) “ You left. Chasing something, right?”

And you throw your head back and laugh. You turn away from Diluc, something rotten bringing you back into yourself. Not memories, but dread and panic (forget, forget, forget.) You hate the feeling. You shove your face into the sheets and savor the feeling of it. The smell and the heat that you’re sure will be ripped away from you. It’s Diluc’s scent. Cecilia and oat soap and stale cologne. You indulge.

“You said you hate me.” Diluc’s voice is close. You lay on your stomach, twisted at the hips, and Diluc looms over you. His hands bunch in the sheets on either side of your shoulders.

“I do, at least a little,” you admit, awful, wretched— “Maybe a lot.”

(As much as you love him.)

“You have every reason to.”

“So you keep reminding me.”

“I don’t regret it.”

It burns to hear. “I wouldn’t expect you to. A chance to play knight— hero?”

“Did you expect me to not do anything?”

“I expected you to at least say goodbye—!” You turn, sharp, and spit the words in his face even as your voice breaks. He’s closer than you thought, hovering so that you’re nose to nose.

A few tears slip, dripping down to your hairline. It takes every last shred and thread holding you together to keep from shattering. Diluc looks like he’s been slapped, shiny ruby eyes polished. Candlelight flickers in them, flame on flame.

You bite your tongue until you taste blood. Because, Archons, if you say anything else, you’ll regret it.

“I’m sor—”

“Tell me in the morning,” you cut him off with a smile, one that makes him frown. “Please?”

And Diluc is nothing, if not weak for you.

It’s an easy shift, for him to drag you to the center of the bed, close to his chest, and pull the duvet over the two of you.

When Diluc presses you, front to front, with your head wedged under his chin, he says soft and breaking, “You worry me.”

You nearly laugh again. “Don’t.”

He just squeezes you, hard enough that you might break.

(You feel like you’re going to shatter. You don’t know if you’re ready.)

#lore writes #diluc x reader #diluc ragnvindr x reader #diluc x you #diluc reader insert #genshin impact x reader #enjoy enjoy ENJOY!!!!!#AH it's so exciting to get to post more!! and a lil nerve-wracking but asdflkj #please enjoy <3 and feel free to leave predictions or feedback if you'd like too!!

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smokingtomas · 1 year

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Goodbye, Hasashi

Summary: Takes place before the event of Mortal Kombat, you find yourself dealing with the certainty of losing Hanzo Hasashi, the captivating son of Shirai Ryu’s grandmaster whom you’ve been having a secret affair with, to someone else’s embrace in an arranged marriage. (Hanzo Hasashi/Female Reader)

AO3 / original Tumblr post / playlist

A/N: This fic is sort of an ode to the past– a fic that was written 7 years ago that I was highly insecure about. This was the last fic before I took a 6 month break and hadn’t created any fics for Mortal Kombat up until my recent one because this one really wore me out. I had been through hell and back to getting this published– quite literally had to drive myself to gloom to convey the emotions into this sole fic.

Reading it now, I’ve decided that I’m going to give it a proper love I hadn’t given back then. I really used to make fun of this– thinking this was cringey, which was unfair to my past self. But thankfully, I’ve grown up and am able to appreciate this a lot more. I didn’t even edit that much.

So If you are reading this, I thank you from the bottom of my heart. I really hope you could feel how much this means to me these days.

Whew, sorry for the long/sentimental A/N.

“We visited Harumi and her family today.”

As soon as he speaks of those words, your entire body feels numb. The teapot you were tilting earlier immediately bumps the cup over, causing some of the tea to spill and mess your tabletop up. You can feel your lower lip slightly tremble– thankfully biting the inside of your mouth helps a little bit, but you are certain the gloom within your eyes can’t hide the pain.

What kind of strange woman wouldn't be hurt when her beloved is forced to leave her to be tied with some other woman? And to make it even worse, for political reasons.

This is Hanzo Hasashi you’re talking about.

The feisty, passionate and… handsome son of the Grandmaster of Shirai Ryu whom you’ve been having a secret affair with for what, four-five months? Yes, it hasn’t been a lifetime, but for you, it does mean something in spite of how young you and him are.

Oh, but the relationship isn’t perfect. Both of you have to keep it a secret since you are nothing but a filthy huntress with no title and no one considering you-- your skills for survival are probably the only thing that has been keeping you alive for so long. If the Grandmaster ever found out about you two? Ah, the possibility of burying you alive is real.

Though to you, being in love with someone like Hanzo Hasashi and to have him love you back is like shooting for the stars, but got the moon instead. For once in your life, you feel like you’ve done something too good that this is blessed to you as your reward.

Turns out, it is nothing but an illusion. Because soon, he will fall into someone else’s embrace.

It’s not that he said something, but you knew that tonight is your last night with him as he mentioned a few nights ago about getting married the next day from now. No, you’re not actually planning on a sad farewell night, but staying positive is no simple task.

Time does fly indeed, and how you wish you realized this earlier. If it is possible to turn back time, you’d definitely do it just so you can hold him longer a few more times… or at least caress that pompous face of his every time he thinks he has impressed you with something he does...

You will miss the way how light always pierces through his hazel eyes and makes them look sort of aglow-- if you could, you would look at them forever. You will miss how he rubs his nose every time he gets nervous and he always tells you to stop teasing him about it.

You will miss how his stubble slightly pierces you every time he presses his face against your skin. How he knows it itches you but he keeps on teasing you with it anyway. Though he knows you like it every time he buries his face on the crook of your neck when he makes sweet love to you.

Oh, Hanzo… how could you survive without him now?

As you feel a tear rushing towards the brink of your eye, you bring a finger up and wipe it away… realizing how much time is wasted since the first time you laid your eyes on his features.

Those eminences of him that hit you all at once. That one sunny day when peaches were harvested; the day that’s impossible to forget...

It was the time of the month when peaches were blooming beautifully. Everywhere you looked-- from trees to the market stalls-- there were those ripe, mouthwatering goodness. The sun shone friendly along with the thin air that would occasionally blow the thin strands of your locks. Birds were swarming beneath the bright blue sky stretching majestically above you, and some of them that were perching on trees seemed to be enjoying the sweet smell of the sunset-colored fruit by the way they chirped so cheerfully.

And there you were with a belly filled completely with peaches you picked earlier, cozying yourself up above a larger, leafier tree on one of its bigger branches as you soaked up the warmth of the sun, resting your head above your hands. The crystal clear lake spreaded close to the tree streamed calmly in sync with the crisp air, sending those leaves slow dancing and making them let out a calming shrivel. This was the kind of surrounding that could send those insomniacs drift off in no time, and the drowsiness just kicked in to you.

Your eyes were getting heavier at this point, but you could care less-- you could drift off any second and you weren’t fighting it. Eyelashes swung as your mouth parted slightly in comfort. Oh, it really was a good day to sleep…

When you just thought nothing could bother you at this moment, crunches were heard next to your tree, followed by a sound of a frustrated male groan. Your eyes shot open at the remark and you knew something was caught in the trap you had set earlier today.

Now, you set the trap for animals-- something you could surely eat, but why was the male sound present?

Hastily, you maneuvered yourself and climbed down the tree. Of course, you were dying to find out what was going on, and what laid before your eyes was way out of your expectation that you felt your jaw drop slightly.

And there was Hanzo Hasashi; inside your net trap hanging strongly beneath a tree trunk, letting his mid-length hair down framing his solid cheek bone. Beads of sweat dripped from his temple and you were guessing he had been running. His callous fingers were shaking the net while his other hand held a whole bunch of peaches, and you could see some of them sliding off his grip onto the ground. Frantic was clearly drawn all over his face, but what you couldn’t get your head wrapped around was the fact that he was dressed in a lousy brown hoodie and torn, old cargo pants.

Instantly, you recognized that face-- who wouldn’t? This was the first time you’ve seen him up close and… well he didn’t look bad. But you figured it would be fun to mess with him since he always looked so serious.

“Well, well, well, look what we have here,” You uttered smugly as you swung your knife. “Was expecting a deer, but got the Grandmaster’s son dressed like a hobo instead.”

His forehead wrinkled at your remark as his lips formed a perfect ‘o’, “What the… how did you know?!”

“Easy, you got one of those kunai in your pocket,” You scoffed, “And your mask fell off.”

He did not look happy by the way he palpated his bare face before letting out a growl, obviously just realizing his mask went down to his neck, “Alright look, huntress! You need to help me off and hide me! Quick!”

“And how could you think I would do that, Hasashi?”

“Because I just stole these peaches from the market!”

As you placed your knife back in one of your boots, you almost bursted out of laughter hearing his explanation. The son of Grandmaster stealing fruits? Now, that was funny.

“What? Like you can’t afford it?” You mocked sarcastically.

“I was undercover and things sprawled out of my control so--” He snarled once again. “Listen! I don’t have time for this. The villagers are chasing me, and I need your help!”

“You know, help doesn’t come free these days. Even huntresses need some--” You cleared your throat, “Gold.”

Rolling his eyes in advance, he finally gave up, “Alright, I will hand you 50 gold coins if you let me off your net and hide me-- but quick!”

“50 golds? Okay, I’ll keep your stolen peaches for you.”

“100!”

“I’ll keep your peaches, and probably won’t eat them.”

“You’re robbing me, huntress!” He exclaimed irritatedly, “Final offer; 150 golds, and you must help me.”

Satisfied with his offer-- and messing around with Grandmaster’s son-- you finally agreed as you got your knife out and made your way towards him to free him. “Don’t have to ask me twice.”

As you were cutting the ropes off the branch, for a split second you thought you could feel his eyes on you. Reflectively, you looked up to meet him. From the distance so close, the features of his face hit you all at once; his perfectly carved bone structure with light stubble framing his… alright, you had to admit he’s gorgeous. Though what hooked you the most were those sharp hazel eyes.

And then you felt your heart skip a beat.

Trying to regain your focus, you chose to ignore this weird feeling as you shook your head back to reality, keeping your hand on the work.

“Can’t you cut faster? They’re coming!” Exclaimed Hanzo.

“Hey, I could easily leave you here if you keep that attitude.” You replied without stopping your rough work.

Thankfully, he only clenched his teeth at your remark-- that was the least he can do, so you couldn’t complain.

Before you knew it, all the ropes were cut and his feet were set on the solid ground. All the peaches he was holding earlier fell onto the ground and you think he could care less in the way he sighed in relief.

“Now go climb that big, leafy tree over there. As high as your feet can take you.” You ordered as you pointed to the tree you were resting on earlier. Without saying anything else, Hanzo quickly rushed towards the tree while you cleared his tracks by covering your net trap and peaches with some fallen leaves.

As footsteps and chatter were heard from a distance, you spread the leaves as nonchalantly as you could as if you were just about to set a trap-- just another day in the office.

Sooner than you had expected, a swarm of villagers were moving towards you, and they were bringing all kinds of things they could use as a weapon: a stick, shoes, even some fabric which you had assumed would be used to catch Hanzo.

��Whoa, whoa, whoa! Stop now!” You commanded, stretching your hands out to them as they immediately paused their tracks, “You take another step and all of you will get inside an animal trap I just set up hours ago.”

“Did you see a street boy coming this way?” Asked one of the villagers, “He stole my peaches!”

“I’ve been here for hours, and I’ve seen nobody. I can’t help you.” You replied.

“But I saw him go this way!” Another villager shouted, “And look! There’s a peach on the ground!”

Good God, what kind of eyes do these people have?!

“Hey, I picked those earlier as a part of my trap!” You lied.

“Bullshit! I don’t believe her! It’s just her way to save her kind. I say we go this way!” Another villager decided to interlope and crunk the heat of the situation.

“For the last time, I’ve been here for hours and I don’t see nobody coming by, alright? If you don’t believe me, please take another step so you all can rot together inside my trap!” You threatened the villagers which sent them into dead silence. Some of them actually showed fear on their faces and were debating if they should go back.

“Hey, what are you all waiting for? Go! Now! You’re scaring my food!” You demanded as the villagers went another way with nothing left to say-- you could hear some of them curse behind their breaths, though.

As you watched them slowly disappear, you made your way towards the tree on which Hanzo was hiding as you looked around to make sure the situation was thoroughly cleared.

Looking up, you placed a palm close to your mouth as you shouted at him, “Get down, Hasashi! You’re safe.”

“Nicely deceived, huntress,” He complimented as he showed himself beneath the leaves while he tried to climb down, “Those people could’ve hurt you easily.”

“I may be a woman, but I’m immune to pain, y’know.” You scoffed.

Hanzo stopped in his track regarding your remark, and furrowed his eyebrows in confusion, “A little hard to believe, but--”

His voice trailed off as his feet stepped on a fragile branch and immediately lost his balance. It all happened so fast that the next thing you know after you shut your eyes in reflex of him falling off the tree was his robust figure over you.

The coarse feeling of the ground surely did not help the blinding pain on your head and hip.

“Ouch! Ah...” You grunted in pain as were him, “Fuck, you’re heavy as hell!”

Out of your expectation, Hanzo bursted out laughing at your remark over you as he rearranged his arms next to your head instead of immediately raising up to his feet. In this sort of inappropriate position of his, you could feel his perfectly sculpted chest above you and the unexpected tremor lining between your legs.

You were certain you could feel yourself blushing over the somewhat awkward situation, but in that moment, you were sure of one thing; he’s a hard candy with a surprise center.

But no, you weren't going to convey your thoughts aloud.

“What’s so funny, Hasashi?” You snapped under him.

“I knew you weren’t immune to pain,” He replied playfully, “I’m always right.”

“You did this on purpose?!” You shouted as you gave his shoulder a push in order for you to raise up, “Ugh! Get off me you sicko!”

Even though he was still laughing uncontrollably, he did as you say and ascended up to his feet. He stretched a hand for you, but instead of taking it, you pouted your lips and got up by yourself.

Not because you didn’t want to, you just refused to give him any ideas.

As he regained his self control and his laugh slightly dimmed-- but obviously still couldn’t get over it, he said: “Alright, alright, I apologize. And thank you, for your help.”

“For a Shirai Ryu, that was really shallow of you,” You pouted, crossing your arms, “But I guess I can let it go.”

As you were trying to straighten your dirty outfit, Hanzo asked: “So, have a name, huntress?”

Surprised by what you had heard, you turned your attention to him and scorned, “Yeah right, asking her name after getting them under you-- way to go, Hasashi!”

“It’s Hanzo,” He chuckled, “If you want to retrieve your gold, we need to see each other in a few days.”

“Is this how a Hasashi flirt?”

He shrugged at your remark, “I’m not exactly denying it, but suit yourself.”

You quickly turned your head away as you felt your cheek heating up. Despite him being good at this, you weren’t going to let him be an asshole about it.

Gathering your things as if you were ready to leave, you let out a chuckle at his remark as you hung your belongings on one shoulder, “Keep your gold, Hanzo. I don’t need it,” You assured before throwing him one of the peaches he had stolen which he reflectively caught with one hand.

“I only need one of these,” You added, sinking your teeth into another peach in your hand without caring about its juice that dripped all over your palm before you took some steps back away from him, “These are good peaches you have stolen.”

As the sight of him got slightly further, you could see him stretching both of his arms as he raised his tone, “So should I see you or not?”

“I don’t know, what do you think?” You shouted.

“I really think I should!”

At his assertion, you stopped your tracks and sank your teeth inside the peach once more as you shrug, “Well, you’ve found my hideout.”

As you turned your attention back on the road, you found yourself smiling. As much as you were dying to see his facial expression, you decided not to and keep this little game of yours happening.

Without knowing what the future will bring.

“Are you there?”

“Uh… yeah, yeah.” Startled by the depth of his voice, you hurry your fingers and wipe the vestiges of your tears, settling your feet back to earth as the trip down the memory lane has you caught up. “I just-- I made a mess.”

You grab the steaming cup of tea as you make your way to the edge of the bed and hand him his beverage, sitting next to him afterwards. You’re not sure how you can make it through this night, but you need to try as if nothing’s going to happen tomorrow. For his sake.

“So uh…” Trying to sound as normal as possible, you mutter while he takes a sip from the cup, “How is she?”

Hanzo deliberately retreats the cup off his lips and rests his forearm above his thigh. The way his head falls tells you that sorrow is consuming him alive. His hazel eyes that usually glow with spirit are now covered by woe.

As a sigh escapes his mouth, he simply replies, “She’s… kind.”

“I bet she’s beautiful.” Your lips twitch up into a wry smile. “More beautiful than what people have said about her.”

For what you have heard about Harumi, her beauty is beyond compare to even the most beautiful flower. Her long hair is the color of a midnight sky with ivory skin wrapped around her slender, small figure. People even say that her honey colored eyes beam brighter than the moonlight, and when she speaks, her voice is as soothing as a summer rain.

At your remark, Hanzo takes a short pause before he weakly shrugs, still refusing to turn his attention to you.

As you run your fingers through his soft, black locks, your gaze is locked at his complexion you’ve grown to love that not even the chill of misty, starless night sky displayed beneath your window pane overshadowed his beauty. No matter how much you’d love to mourn with him, you know you need to stay strong for him and not making this fucked up situation even worse.

Though if you look back, you wish you’d never meet him.

But ah, it’s too little too late now; you’ve fallen for him. You should’ve been ready for the risk of having to give him up to someone else-- someone better than you. You must be kidding yourself if you think he’d actually be your forever.

“It doesn’t matter,” He suddenly utters, “She’s not you.”

“And that’s better, right? I mean, look at me.” You scoff, ”Who am I kidding? I--”

“Can you stop making this about you for once?!” Cutting you off, his strenuous voice suddenly fills the empty room as he recoils your fingers off him. His profound gaze towards you clearly shows nothing but unhappiness.

“Hanzo, who says this is about me? I’m just trying to make it better for you.” You assure firmly.

“All you’ve been doing is making this worse for me!”

“How is that so?”

“Did you think I asked for this? Did you think I wanted to make this choice?” He bleaks. Eyes gleaming with pain, and you don’t think you’ve ever seen him like this.

“Well, no, but--”

“Then your attempt on making it better is useless! Because it’s sad enough for me to have to choose the clan over you!”

As he winds his attention away from you and buries his face above his palm, you sense the frigid of the night starts seeping inside your bones. This empty space you call your sanctuary feels even more depressing than it already is. You gently press your palms against the wonky mattress so it’ll make some noise within the silence that’s slowly killing you.

At this moment, you’re lost for words. You feel like you should say something, but your jaw feels rigid and your throat is just drying away. Even the spider in the corner of the room seems to have more of an idea of what it’s doing as its little feet slowly knitting its web.

Unlike you. Clueless of what to say-- let alone doing something about it. You know you shouldn’t have fallen this deep with someone as powerful as the son of Shirai Ryu’s grandmaster, but for some reason your heart calls for him, and you knew in that moment you laid your eyes on his hazel ones, he’s what it’s longing for.

But why is it longing for someone you know you shouldn’t go for? How you wish you could rip your heart off your chest and throw it into the ocean, even though you know it wouldn’t be as painful as how you’re feeling right now.

“Wow…” You finally mumble slowly, relieving the silence.

“What?”

“You’re madly in love with me, aren’t you?”

At your remark, Hanzo gradually lifts his head and turns his interest to you. Unlike before, he looks much calmer right now, but you can tell he’s still absorbing the pain of this state like a sponge. It’s like he knows you already know the answer to your own question-- heck, you’re not even sure why you asked such a question in the first place.

But one thing you know for sure-- whatever his answer is, it’s going to crush your soul.

Whilst he elevates his shoulders, he lets out a sigh. “To the point where I would actually give it all up,” Hanzo weakly answers.

At this point, you can already hear your heart cracking through your ears.

“By the Gods…” You grumble, running your fingers through your locks as you shortly stand up and taking a few steps away from him, heading to the small, dusty window ahead of you. Greeting you is a cloudy night sky-- a sky so cloudy that even the moon chooses to hide itself underneath the thick, gray clouds; a bed of sky that perfectly describes your feelings.

In a perfect world, if someone just told you they’re madly in love with you, your heart will fly as if it had wings of its own. Turns out in your case, the wings your heart once had are torn apart by force.

You know he loves you-- he’s said it before. But madly? Oh, how you wish you could ask him to stay. Though what’s breaking you the most is that you know you couldn’t.

As you feel your face heats up and clumps of tear start to cloud your vision, you can hear the bed squeaking with Hanzo’s footsteps following behind as he asks for your conviction, “Aren’t you?”

You press your palms against your eyes, gulping hard so your answer won’t be as croaky. After all, the point is to hide your sorrow from him.

Alas, your attempt seems to fail as you feel a tear slide down your left cheek, and you just find it hard to even contain yourself, “To the point where the whole world shatters with my heart when you told me you’re marrying somebody else.”

All of the sudden, you can feel two robust arms gently wrapped around your figure together with a strong cheekbone resting on the side of your face. The familiar warmth instantly drowns you in and you welcome the strong arms in your embrace. You don’t even mind the stubble that you normally would push away because of how it pierces through your skin, but you know even your skin will miss the slight roughness when it’s gone.

“I know,” Hanzo responds simply by leaving a peck on your temple, “I’m sorry…”

“I’m sorry too…” You bring one hand to caress his cheek, which slowly trails down to the side of his neck, “Shirai Ryu needs you, Hanzo. Don’t ever give it up, especially for me.”

“I just never thought that-- I would have to lose you for it.” He brittles, keeping his gaze far away as if he’s looking for some understanding.

“It’s the risk we should’ve prepared for.” You enlighten him as you turn yourself around and face him, cupping his jaw afterwards. His hand slowly slides down at your movement and you adore how they circle your waist perfectly. “ If I could turn back time, I really wish we’d never met-- let alone giving you a helping hand. Because even then I know, if I ever fell for you, I could never get back up.”

As your hands gradually travel to the nape of his neck, you pull him closer to you as he closes his eyes. His heavy breath pools down your frame and you add, “And now, I guess it got the best of me.”

At your confession, Hanzo stays still as if he's decided to get lost in your embrace and enjoy the closeness between him and your features. His hands stay ringing on your lower back and you don't think you'd want him to ever let go.

At the same time your fingers dig through his scalp, you whisper as you let out a feeble smile, “But you're my sweetest doom, Hasashi. And I've never felt more alive.”

It feels like you haven't had time to absorb your next move, but the next thing you know is that his lips brushes against yours like a drop of water in the middle of Sahara-- a kiss so chaste, so pure it could brace even the faintest heart.

As soon as he retracts himself, he mumbles, “Anata wa watashi no yume no josei da.”

You're the woman of my dreams. His words are like a magnet to your soul and you’re instantly drawn to him. Another drop of tear slithers down your cheek as you let out a weak chuckle, and your lips yearn for him in a blink of an eye.

Against his lips, you let your lips slow dance with his moist ones as if it has a mind of its own, cupping his jaw and you let his hands roam every inch of your body. In this very tranquility-- and with his lips attached to yours, what’s been troubling your mind seems to be forgotten. Maybe making these last moments just for the two of you to embrace might be the best.

Still, you and Hanzo devour each other in your own utopia, and you’re not planning on letting go soon. Even when the heat of his hands slowly but skilfully undo the buttons of your top, your mind has its own way to stop working.

And as if new minds are planted at your fingertips, you let them do their work in unclasping his belt and out of his uniform.

You’re not sure how long it takes for your back to finally feel the softness of the bedsheet, but you know at that moment, your brain has retired and your heart is at work.

And for the rest of the night, there are only moans, ragged breathing, and the creak of the bed to be heard.

“I love you. Did you know that?” Hanzo’s voice is low and tense.

His gaze meets yours in the dim room filled with candle light. You rest your head above his shoulder as his arm wrapped around your figure. Legs intertwined and there’s nothing you love more than how his bare, warm skin collides with yours in silence under the sheet. The way his thumb slowly flatters your chin lets you know that he means what he says.

“Kind of,” With a smile, you nod, “You’ve said it a few times by now.”

You don’t need anymore assertion from him by the way he harbors his lips on your forehead softly. You’re not sure what it is with the forehead kisses he gives, but all you know is that they give you the thrill, and you can even feel it even through his fingertips that still caresses your back.

“Hanzo,” You call him tenderly, to which he responds with a small hum, “Do you have any regrets?”

For a split second, his forehead wrinkles as if he’s thinking about the true meaning of your random question, but he doesn’t keep you waiting until you start to get nervous.

“Ah, regrets?” He sighs, “I think my life itself is based on it.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well… by now you must have been aware that being born into a clan isn’t something I ask for. When I grew up and accepted it, my father didn’t allow me to participate in the clan’s business-- quite strange, but again, I accepted it until he proposed this...”

His voice suddenly trails off before he rolls away from you. Your body still lies above his arm, but the empty gaze he’s showing tells you that he’s trying his best to stay composed. Even though you swear for a split second there you see his eyes sort of glisten.

“...forced marriage I don’t even want, and making it the only way for me to be involved in Shirai Ryu.” Hanzo continues.

“I’m sorry…” You whisper weakly, not knowing what to say but to move your body closer to him and rest your palm on his chest, supporting your weight with your other arm.

A hopeless sigh leaves his mouth at your remark. His eyes are fixed to the torn out paint mark on the roof as if it’s the most fascinating thing in the world, but you know the corner of his eyes are watching you.

Despite the woe that is drawn clearly through his face, he still looks beautiful.

Shortly, however, he shifts his body to your direction so you’re now face to face as he mirrors your position, causing the sheet to maneuver in sync with the movement of his solid figure.

“But do you know what my biggest regret is?” Hanzo triggers.

You shrug in response, by which he answers, “It’s not being able to choose you.”

His words sure don’t catch you by surprise-- you’ve known all along about his feelings towards you, but it sure leaves your stomach knotting and your gaze to drop.

When you thought things couldn’t get any worse, he adds as he reaches for your hand, “See, I’ve never thought about marriage until I-- until I fall in love with you. Since then, I always thought if I ever got married, it was going to be to you.”

And in this moment, your heart drops. And it’s smashed into pieces.

You wish you could decide your own fate if you knew you were going to fall this deep for him. You wish you’d been born someone else-- someone like Harumi just so you could stay with Hanzo. Or at least you wish your soul could leave your body and stay inside Harumi’s so you could still feel the warmth of his body next to you every night.

And in this moment, you hate yourself as much as you hate the universe.

It hurts to be you. It hurts so much that the pain seeps into your chest. You wish you could go up on a limb and pull your hair so hard that it pricks your scalp as you scream your heart out to the universe for such an injustice.

Breathing seems like no easy task as your vision gets blurry with a layer of tear in your eyes, and it’s about to stream freely anytime soon. You’re just thankful your face is dipped and Hanzo can’t see how much of a blubbering mess you are.

“I-I don’t know what to say…” With a croaky voice, you mumble.

And the unbearable tear finally drips.

“Shush, hey.” Hanzo’s voice is soothing. A thumb of his is brought up to your cheek as it wipes off your tear, “I’ve never seen you cry before.”

You decide to ignore his remark and keep your face to the sheet. Besides, it seems pretty reasonable to cry-- you can’t possibly stay rock hard when your world has appeared to turn upside down.

Lifting your chin up so your eyes meet his, he despondently says, “Maybe this is how we are destined to be-- you and me, against the universe. I just wish we could win this battle by… coming clean.”

“Don’t, Hanzo. Please… It’s too late now.”

“I guess you’re right.” He sighs, taking a short pause. But then a ray of light emerges within his face, “But Harumi will be the one moving here once we get married. Nothing is going to change between us, I will still be seeing you every night. Here.”

You raise an eyebrow in confusion at his statement, “You mean… we’ll still see each other when you’re married?”

“Yes. Why wouldn’t I?”

Surprisingly, you’re not feeling better-- your heart is still broken and it refuses to fix itself even when Hanzo tells you nothing’s changing. Inside, you know it’s not entirely true.

But for some reason, you find yourself fetching him an uncertain smile realizing your head goes empty at his words.

And your body still freezes as he moves even closer to you before his lips reach for yours tenderly. His palm finds your jaw before you find yourself, once again, under his mercy.

Oh, you’re dying to say a word-- about how wrong this feels, but you forget that the power of his kiss could shed away even the hardest problems.

And that’s exactly what it’s doing as you find yourself lost within it.

“Nothing is going to change between us, I will still be seeing you every night. Here.”

Those words Hanzo said keeps echoing in your head like it’s shouted in one hollow room. No matter how many times you try massaging the bridge of your nose or even simply shut your eyes, drifting into a peaceful slumber appears impossible.

You shift your head to your left, and there he is. Eyes closed, looking serene with his lips perfectly formed in one single line. The sound of his unwavering breaths could usually doze you off, but not tonight.

Because deep down, you know it won’t be yours to hear the next day.

Your hand reaches out for his stubble, and the way your hand gently caresses it is as if it knows it’ll be the last time you feel the slight pierce. You know you will surely miss how it feels on the back of your hand that slides softly on the curve of his cheekbone.

No-- you knew even then you have to leave him some time, and you’re afraid the moment has arrived.

As you gaze into his aristocratic frame, your brain searches for a reason to stay-- for you to possibly have him near you as long as you can.

But no matter how hard you dig, the thought of the future always buries the hope back even deeper. The thought of his warmth being someone else’s to cherish leaves a huge burden in your heart.

And no, that is not the only thing that troubles you-- what if they have children someday? Of course, Hanzo would be happy to have his descendants, and he’s going to love them with all his heart.

And in time, you know he will eventually fall for Harumi.

At those thoughts, you can feel as if a dagger stabs your heart repeatedly, but the pain is nothing compared to the fact that this is the last time you will witness his fair looking face.

And that… you have to let yourself out of his life.

Right now, there’s no use holding the tears back-- you let them stream freely this time as your mind wanders to the happier times you’ve spent with Hanzo, and how you wish you could do something to turn back time and let yourself showered with joy all over again.

But even by sacrificing your soul to the most powerful God, you know it’s not feasible.

With a heavy heart, you wipe away your tears before forcing the stiffness of your feet to move and out of the sheet, making sure to keep your movement slowly so you don’t wake him up.

Keeping yourself as stealthy as possible, you put on your clothes and gather your things before you sit in one corner of the room to write him a farewell letter, glancing one in a while at his direction. You can feel your hand shaking as tears keep flowing down your cheek, but you try your hardest to power through the sorrow and ignore those tears that drop on the paper.

Dearest Hanzo,

I'm sorry I have to leave you like this, but I can't stand the thought of me being in the middle of your marriage. I understand this is not a part of your will, but you will have to learn to love her in time, just like you did to me.

I want you to know that this is hard for me to do, but I know I'm leaving you in a good hand-- she will take care of you and love you with all her heart. For that, I'm grateful, and I'm lucky.

But if by any chance we meet again in the future, I'm hoping to see the same spirit and light I've witnessed in you these past couple of months. By then, I can always remember that one summer we spent under the peach tree, and how it will always bring joy to my heart.

Even though I might not be the one that puts that smile on your face, knowing you're well and happy is more than enough for me.

I love you, always.

P.S: Anata wa watashi no yume no otokoda.*

Finished writing the letter, you slowly maneuver to his side of the bed and you kneel down, placing the letter neatly next to his resting face as you take one last glance at his perfection.

After landing your lips swiftly on his cheek, you stroke him and slowly whisper, “Goodbye, Hasashi.”

As you step out the door, you turn your head back to this worn-out hideout you’ve called your sanctuary for the last year-- the place you’ve made most memories at, and you know you’re not going to easily forget everything.

Now, you’re not sure where your feet will take you. You have to survive in some other strange place and start a new life on your own, going back to the solitude you haven’t felt ever since your first encounter with Hanzo Hasashi.

You’re not sure how you’re going to survive without him by your side, but as you sweep the tears off your cheek and move forward, you know you somehow will.

*you’re the man of my dreams

#hanzo hasashi #scorpion #mortal kombat #mortal kombat 1 #fanfiction #ao3 #my fics #hanzo hasashi x reader #scorpion x reader

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ventisettestars · 1 year

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DannyMay Day 10: Bones [ao3]

This is a continuation of my Fantasy AU. [part 1] [part 2]

Summary: Changes felt down to Danny’s bone as he spends time in Fae Realm.

Warning: Some light body horror and blood. Also I barely edited this, tho I did give it a once over. So sorry for typos and the like.

WC: 1,997

Kulning: herding call. A domestic Scandinavian music form, often used to call livestock (cows, goats, etc.) down from high mountain pastures where they have been grazing during the day. -Wikipedia

------

His realm. That was what the fae lady had said. “Welcome to your realm, my Lord.”

“Lord?” Danny was a prince. It was almost reflexive to correct when mistitled.

The fae misunderstood what he was confused about and powered on through. “Yes.You’re a Lord of Night. New leader of the Winter Wild Hunt. I’m here to help you with that transition. Poor Dear, you’re so human yet.”

“Um, yeah. Cause I am. A human. Always have been.”

“Oh, not for the last few weeks you haven't. Your heart is a Fae heart, just stuck in some human flesh. You must have noticed.” She looked sad for him.

Danny swallowed as he had noticed a few things. He blamed stress from his fight that he wasn’t sure was dreamed or not. But he hadn’t been noticing the chill in the morning. And the way food began to taste like ash. The way his skin felt too tight along his back. The-

“So, if- What happens now?”

She beamed. “First let's get you something to eat. You must be starving.”

“I'm sure your food is the best around but- Isn’t Fae food cursed for humans to eat. Like a trap?”

“Oh deary. Only for humans. You’ll be fine. I wouldn’t feed you anything that'd cause you harm. Come come.” She hurried, and Danny not knowing what else to do, followed.

“And see, the thing about humans eating food here is very misunderstood. It doesn’t trap humans, but makes all human food taste like ash. So they'll want to come back and never leave.” The fae lady stopped to turn back for a moment. “We and humans have very different senses, you see. Taste being the easiest to lean into. Our drinks can do it too. Water here is so fresh, particularly in your region because it runs from the purest of snow, chilled with the sunless sky. Why, it’ll even mess with some of the summertime fae.”

Taking things one step at time, the lady continues talking about food in the realms. She also tells him he can call her the Lunch Lady. Names are, after all, so valuable. The only ones immune to being controlled by names are the Lords and Ladies of the Night, And the Kings and Queens of Day. Something about their connection runs so deeply in the realm that they are gifted a name they aren’t even aware of. Only the Mother knows of them, and she need not speak them to use them, nor would the Mother wish for anyone to learn them. So all other names become just titles and aliases. Though Danny figures he wouldn’t be giving his name to anyone here even if the Lunch Lady says it's safe. He would need to think of a new one.

They arrived at a grand dining hall, and it shocked Danny how much it resembled a warden’s mess hall.

“Why, does it look like a prison?”

“Your predecessor committed a great crime and was in self appointed imprisonment. The realm mirrored his state, as it will shift to match yours as time passed. Why, the bars are practically all gone at this point. Being replaced with proper doors.”

She sat Danny down, and began to prepare a dish for him. “Some of those around are buzzing with excitement since it’s our understanding you were a human princeling, so soon our land shall be grand, befitting your needs.”

Danny looked at the food before him, and it was the best smelling food he’d smelt in weeks. Taking a bite didn’t disappoint. He inhaled the food, drinking from the water the glass that showed up.

“There is more where that came from. Here, try this. It’s probably your first time having it, seeing as its a fowl that can only be caught in the land of summer.”

Danny looked confused at the little avian thing that was roasted and placed before him. Trusting her, he took a wing, and bit into it. The meat was tender, not a bit of resistance, it was heaven. He took bite after bite, then bit into the bone. It almost startled him as it didn’t give much resistance like he’d thought it would. Then he noticed it wasn’t the bones that were delicate, it was his teeth had changed.

In place of the teeth he'd known for 14 years, well probaby only 3 since he'd lost the last of his baby teeth, were sharp, wolflike teeth. It wasn't just his canines, but the surrounding teeth as well. Reformed to fit a predator.

He shuddered as he bit down again. It was delicious, and felt soothing. Calming an itch he didn't know he had. And he didn't seem to bite himself, his body was already used to them. Why fight it?

Looking at the Lunch Lady, Danny figured he had many more changes ahead of him.

-----

Time didn't exactly pass. Not as he was used too. It was always the apex of a solar eclipse. Which he thought was odd but it was explained to him that his kingdom was that of the daytime night. The moment the moon over powers the sun and the nocturnal creature wake during the day.

It's why he was a lord of night. Why he was of the Sluagh Sidhe Court.

He was assured it was normal. Each of the rulers' kingdoms rested in a single time, when they were each at the peak of their powers.

Powers that Danny was starting to grow into. After a few sleeps it started with his appearance only. Hair going white, skin blue, ears longer. Once his eyes flooded to the pitch black of night from the corners, filled with stars, did he start to feel like a true fae.

The moment the sky reached his iris was when the magic inside burst. It was tapping into the source of his power, connecting to the phase of the moon when he heard the song.

It rang through his bones down to the merrow. Calling him in a language he'd never known, but understood he was to follow it. Nothing else mattered but the kulning song.

It led him through his lands, his connection to them keeping him from losing his way. Later even the thought of getting lost in his tundra would be absurd. But right now. Now his only focus was the song.

It led him through another's territory. He didn't feel unwelcome, but he knew next time he would need to be invited in.

He was almost there, his bones ached insisting he wasn't moving fast enough. His shoulders twitched in places that shouldn't have been able too.

Every bit of his foreign body insisted flying would be faster than the pace he was running, even if he'd never been able to run this fast or this long before in his human life. He longed to fly.

Running into a forest, through an entrance only accessible when She wished it, he was close. Then to the clearing, where he came to a stop as the call stopped.

Around him in a near perfect U where 7 other fae, and Her.

His bones, his magic, his soul yearned, screamed in silence through his blood. Mother.

She was who the other fae revered as a Goddess of the Realm. The being who will die each winter by his hands, to be reborn in the hands of the spring queen.

She was the only one on this plan that could command him, and he would gladly listen.

“My youngest Lord. Dearest Lordling.” She spoke in several, no, all the languages at once. She reached out to him. “Let me get a good look at you.” It was once her hand neared him that he realized how small he was to her. He was able to climb into her hand and she held him with ease. It was also when he noticed the other fae were actually airborne. How he wanted to join.

She smiled. “Say my name, and you shall join them, Lordling.”

Words left his mouth. A name, Her name. It wasn’t a language he’d known, but he knew what it meant.

His Mother brought him to her face, and with a gentle kiss to his forehead, pain ripped from his back. It started with bones, then muscles and tendons, skin and feathers. Silver liquid dripped down from his outfit and feathers as the pain subsided. Danny looked at his hands that got some of the runoff from his wings growing out, absently wondering before he realized it was his blood. He bled silver.

He looked back up to her. “I, ah sorry I got blood on you…” He didn’t know if it was in proper form to speak to her, but he figured, if he could talk to his mother the Queen of Amity, then he could also talk to his mother the Goddess of the Realms.

She laughed. “Worry not. I knew it would be the case. It’s part of the process. Tell me, what is it you wish to be called and address your siblings.”

Danny stood in her hand, all had left Mother’s side and flew in a line to get a better view. Danny spread his wings, but didn’t take off flying. His body told him it was too soon, much as he longed.

“I am Phantom.” The words he needed flowed easily, aware of the titles that mattered from his few lessons. “A Sluagh Sidhe Lord of Night, Master of the Winter Wild Hunt. And Heir Prince of the Human Realm’s Amity Kingdom.”

One of the fae flinched at that last title. It was enough for Phantom to notice. He looked familiar. Before Phantom could dwell on it, his Mother addressed from behind.

“For all the joy of this occasion, there is a grave matter to address. You have inherited all your predecessor’s boons, and thus, you must also bear his crimes, though not his punishment. Know that this pains me.”

The white ashes that created Phantom floated from his chest. They wove into chains, passing into her hands, then emerging green and wrapping around his legs. Pulling taught then snapping.

“These chains bind to bone. Always to be present as a reminder. None shall pass judgment and claim their words as mine. Lest they be imprisoned until one strong enough sends them to their ends. Now. Join your siblings.”

Phantom didn’t need to be told twice before spreading his wings and taking to the air.

----

“And that's it for the tour. I've shown you all the places safe for humans.” Phantom grinned, the tour covered some of his favorite rooms. One being the observatory and another being a game room. Both were additions he added as his predecessor was more occupied with playing warden of the realms laws then enjoying anything.

“Dude, that was like 6 rooms and a few halls.” Tucker had been taking detailed notes in his spellbook.

“Yeah. Safe. For. Humans. Once you learn the rules I can show you more. Till then, I’m keeping it to just those rooms.” A small floating light wisped next to Phantom, jingling something, then floated off. “Well, it looks like it's human’s bedtime. I’ll walk you to the gate, then I’ve got a meeting with the Summer Lady and-.”

Sam interrupted, grabbing Phantom’s arm to stop him in his tracks. “Can we come? You have to let us come.”

“I mean.” He thought for a moment. “Sure, but it's underwater. I can spell you protections, but if anything goes wrong and you swallow some water, it can’t be undone. Fae water will be the only thing you would be able to drink after.”

“It'd be worth it. Plus you’d hook us up with the fae water, right?” At the lack of response from Phantom, Tucker looked nervous. “Right?”

With a deep sigh. “Of course I would. It's really not worth it. But okay. Let's get you both ready. I’m going to have to go over some things on the way.”

Notes:

Sooo some fun behind-the-scenes stuff. Originally The Mother was going to have a name, but then I found out the name I was going to use was basically a British Man's OC, so felt rude to use in context. So now she is just The Mother, Goddess of the Realm. Basically, take sentient ghost zone core and get the Mother.

Secondly, you see that art. >:3 I got so many plans for them all.

And last, I plan on putting all the Fantasy AU stuff in it's own fic in june, but no idea what to call it. I was sort of thinking "Tir na nog" buuut not sure. I'm open to suggestions.

#Dannymay2023 #danny phantom #dp #my art #draws #my fic

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multi-kpop-fanfics · 1 year

Text

Betcha

pairing: designer!Baekhyun x fem!reader (ft. Chanyeol)

genre: fluff, comedy, best friends to lovers!AU

warnings: alcohol and food consumption, mild nudity (no smut), reader is drunk af

repost from my old account!

Author's note: I decided to start reposting the stuff from my old account with a bit more proper editing <3

“Oi, Baek, where are you?!” You yell at your friend through the phone, “I’ve been standing here for half an hour now! And it’s freaking cold too!."

“Yah, Y/N, don’t shout! I’ll be there in 5 minutes, can’t you wait a bit more?” Baekhyun gives a relaxed reply, as if he hadn’t stood you up at all.

It was 10 PM, you (he) had booked a nice restaurant to eat with your best friend Baekhyun, in celebration of his new collection launch. The waiting line was quite big though, since the restaurant was pretty famous. You were also worried you might lose your reservation, simply because the one who made it in the first place wasn’t here.

You had previously met with Baekhyun at the launch party, but you weren’t able to talk for long, because he was busy talking with celebrities who congratulated him for his successful launch. However, he wanted to celebrate with his best friend, without the noise and the crowd swarming around him, in a more secluded place.

You were always grateful to him, because no matter the difference in your lifestyles, he always treated you as his equal. Of course, you were always by his side, supporting him in all of his decisions and risks, his happy and sad moments, his shoulder to cry on. There was only one thing you couldn’t be: Baekhyun’s girlfriend.

Your trail of thoughts is cut short by the sound of a roaring engine and you turn around to see a luxurious car parking in front of the restaurant, instantly recognizing the vehicle. The door opens and Baekhyun comes out with an air of flamboyance, his outfit different from the one he sported in the party.

The line of customers is now very noisy, as they are ogling over your best friend - and rightfully so, to be honest. However, Baekhyun pays zero attention to them and skips to you, pulling you in a tight hug. “

Sorry for being late, huge traffic.” He rubs the back of his neck with a smile and you roll your eyes at him.

“Huge traffic huh? More like ‘I was late on purpose to make a flashy entrance’. You even changed clothes!” You mock him and he pouts.

“Hey! I changed clothes because a dumbass called Park Chanyeol spilled his whiskey on my shirt! Besides, I’m always flashy, in case you didn’t know.” He dramatically flips his hair, making you laugh.

“Okay mr. Byun - always - flashy - Baekhyun, we have a reservation waiting for us to confirm.” You pull him by the hand.

You make your way to the entrance and the receptionist asks for the reservation, Baekhyun gives his name and within few minutes, you’re seated at your table.

You are quietly fidgeting in your seat, your blue velvet dress now feeling uncomfortable on your body - and not because of the material.

“Earth to Y/N calling, are you there?” Baekhyun snaps his fingers repeatedly to get your attention.

“W-what? Is something wrong?”

“You tell me, I wasn’t the one spacing out.”

“Oh… Sorry, I didn’t mean to-” you laugh nervously.

“Nah, it’s okay, I was just messing with you. Anyways, are you ready to order?” he asks with a smile.

“Um, sure. I’ll get tortelloni a la creme.” You reply and he looks at you with wide eyes.

“Wow, you didn’t even check the menu.” Baekhyun remarks.

“I’m a decisive person, unlike you.”

“Rude, but I’ll let it slide, ‘cause I’m in a very good mood tonight,” he chirps.

“You deserve it, Baek. You worked really hard on that collection, so it was bound to be a succesful launch,” you state.

“True, but it was all thanks to you Y/N.”

“Oh come on, cut the flattery, I did nothing serious-” he cuts you off by putting his hand on your mouth and he starts speaking.

“When I was down and desperate, you would always drop everything and come to my doorstep with food and stay the night. Even when I was on a designing spree, you would always add your tips and ideas to make everything better. I said it in the party and I’ll say it again: Y/N L/N, you’re my best friend and driving force for life." He finishes and takes your hand into his, the act of affection making your heart flutter.

“Awww, she’s blushing~” Baekhyun coos and pinches your cheeks.

“Hey, I’m not blushing! And don’t pinch my cheeks, I'm not a baby!” you playfully slap his wrists.

“Okay, since you are a grown ass woman, do you want to call the waiter and order some wine?” Baekhyun asks.

“Thought you’d never say it."

As the food and wine arrive on the table, you endlessly chatted with Baekhyun, gossiping about the best and worst outfits of the party, the “celebrities” who were throwing glances at you while shamelessly flirting with your best friend. Of course, Baekhyun could not possibly leave out the moment when one of his friends, Chanyeol, was clumsy enough to spill his whiskey on Baekhyun’s shirt, which was also one of your favorite pieces from his new collection - and Baekhyun’s as well.

The hours pass by, one wine glass becomes two, two turn into three and without knowing, you have emptied two wine bottles, most of it coursing through your veins and clouding your senses in a euphoric haze.

“Whoa, whoa! No more of this for you, young lady.” Baekhyun snatches the glass from your hand right before you gulped it down.

“But whyyyy~ I want -hic!- mooooreeee” you slur in your drunk state.

“Y/N, you’re piss drunk! I can’t leave you alone in this state! Wait here, I’ll go pay for the food and we’ll leave right away." Baekhyun stands up and jogs to the cashier, whips out his credit card and returns to your side. He helps you stand to your feet, your bag and coat in his one arm and he snakes his other arm around your waist to support you.

You make it out of the exit and Baekhyun carefully slides you to the passenger seat. He rushes to the driver seat and turns on the engine, driving to his home, the time now past midnight.

“Slowly now, Y/N… Left foot, right foot, left and right…Okay! We’re in!” Baekhyun says as you both enter his house and he closes the door with his foot behind him.

“Baekhyunnieeeee~ Everything is flyiiiiiing arouuuund~” You say loudly.

“Shhhhh! It’s past midnight Y/N, don’t shout!” He shushes you and you fall straight on the couch, giggling.

“Baek~Hyun~Nieeee~” you chirp, still drunk and in your own happy world.

Shit, she’s cute like this, he thinks to himself. He lifts you in his arms and takes you to his bedroom, placing you carefully on the bed.

“Hnng, too tight-” you croak and try to reach the zipper of your dress to remove it.

“OH NONONONO-” he stops you and rushes to his closet and takes out a pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt to give you. He sees you still struggling with your dress and decides to help you out of it.

“Why is this happening to me….Okay, here goes nothing....” Baekhyun takes a deep breath, unzips your dress and takes it off slowly, revealing your body in underwear and thigh-high stockings. His breath hitches at the sight.

“Damn, you’re so beautiful…” he whispers under his breath.

“Baekhyuuuun, I’m cooold,” you whine, snapping Baekhyun out of his trance and putting you in his more comfortable clothes, having taken off the stockings as well. By the time he dressed you, you had calmed down and you were nearly asleep, making him sigh in relief. When he was about to leave the room, your voice makes him freeze in his tracks.

“I love you, Baekhyun”. These four words were all he wanted to hear from you, and he couldn’t help but answer the same. “I love you too, Y/N” he says softly, but you had already fallen into deep sleep.

You wake up the next day from the sunlight hitting your face and the smell of freshly made coffee. You open your eyes slowly, your head still hurting from last night. By the time you come to your full senses, you realize you’re not in your house and you’re definitely not wearing your clothes. You smell the clothes, the scent of cedarwood and bergamot hitting your nose and making you smile - Baekhyun’s clothes.

You get up slowly and make your way to the kitchen and you see Baekhyun making breakfast, his hair ruffled from sleep and wearing clothes similar to the ones you were wearing.

“Good morning sleepyhead,” he smiles and gives you a cup of coffee with a croissant.

“Good morning, Baek.” You reply and sit down.

“How did you sleep?” he asks you and takes a sip from his coffee.

“I went out like a light, but my head is pounding like crazy…How much did I drink last night?”

“You drank a lot… and I couldn’t leave you alone, so I took the liberty to bring you to my house, the ride was shorter too-”

“Hey, hey! It’s totally fine, Baekhyun! Thank you for everything, I really appreciate what you did for me,” you smile at him and cup his cheek with your hand, “I got a question though… How did I end up in your clothes?” you look at him and his ears turn red at your question.

“I-uhm, uhh- ahem, okay. As you know, you were drunk and I took you to the bedroom, so that you would sleep comfortably. You were trying to unzip your dress but failed miserably, so I…helped you take your clothes off and gave you a pair of mine, you know, to feel more comfortable while sleeping - not that I wanted to check you out in your underwear or something.” Baekhyun finishes and scratches his head anxiously.

“Yeah, sure thing Baek,” you raise a brow at him. Baekhyun releases a breath he didn’t know he was holding. The relief was short-lived, as he was taken aback by your next words

“I don’t know if you meant the ‘I love you too, Y/N’ you said last night, but I meant it.” You tell him and your heart starts racing.

This is it, this is the make or break moment, Y/N. It’s all or nothing-

“I meant it, Y/N. With all my damn heart.” Baekhyun replies, his face red from the sudden confession. You start laughing and he’s frozen in his seat.

“W-Why are you laughing, Y/N? What is so funny to you?!” Baekhyun pouts in confusion and you fan yourself, trying to calm down from your previous laughing fit.

“Ha, haha, don’t get me wrong, Baek. It’s actually really funny, because I always thought you saw me as your friend, yet I wasn’t brave enough to confess all this time… Talk about real clownery,” you admit and Baekhyun starts chuckling in return.

“Honey, it was always you. Just because I’m flirting from time to time, that doesn’t mean I'm actually interested in every woman I flirt with. It was mostly to get a reaction out of you, but it seems like I failed miserably.” He raises his hands in defeat.

“Oh, and what makes you think that confessing and flirting with me now will make fall for you?” you ask him with confidence and you see a familiar glint in Baekhyun’s eyes:

“Betcha, ma girl, I met ya and you’re gonna be mine."

#baekhyun fluff #baekhyun crack #exo baekhyun #byun baekhyun #exo fluff #exo crack #exo #tw alcohol #tw food

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waitingforeddyneddy · 1 year

Note

i was seeing that s3 of the bee show will be probably delayed for next year and the only thing that bothers me is that we will have to wait 2 years for happy kanthony when the development of their relationship should've been done in s2!!! just like it happened in s1 where the love story was wrapped at the end... i hate how people kept saying that it didn't matter that they didn't have many minutes of happiness in their own season because they were gonna be back... BUT TWO YEARS LATER!

Uh anon sorry for the long reply but you opened a Pandora box so this is going to be a rant post.

I still laugh at those interviews where everyone and their mothers were patting themselves on the back about how different Kanthony season was, how it was all about emotional intimacy rather than actual intimacy, and the beauty of their slow burn. Isn’t slow burn supposed to have a payoff? Kanthony got none of that. I still can’t believe they made us go through a disgusting love triangle between two sisters just for them to put Kate in a coma for the majority of the last ep and for Kanthony to get together in two quick scenes in the last 8 minutes of the season.

Choices were made. And it cannot be a coincidence when you think about how promoted Kanthony was. They didn’t even have a poster with only two of them before people loudly complained. And that poster? Imagine having the romantic focal point of you romance show standing back to back like two buddies from a cop movie.

It’s funny how the “this is a show regarding a family” was dropped pretty quick after Jess announced next season was going to be Polin’s. How the tables turned with the “we’re going to have romance back, the show is going to be horny again with plenty of sex scenes and a lot of quotes from the book”. Not suspicious at all. Especially when, surprise surprise, a year later Queen Charlotte came out and Bridgeton behaved like Bridgeton again, with romance, promotion of the lead couple ALONG the promotion of the other female lead of the show ( since people like to accuse us Kanthony fans of being butthurt cause they promoted CC a lot) and lots of sex scenes. I mean even the Queen servant had a cute love story with tender moments and a proper sex scene. All Kanthony got was a badly done and edited montage of Anthony giving head to Kate in the dark. Ok. Oh and no wedding, not even a quick scene of them exchanging their wows surrounded by family, It didn’t even need to be long, just something to show the difference between that sham of a wedding the queen wanted for Anthony to what Anthony actually wanted with the love of his life.

I also laugh out loud at those gaslighters who say we can shut up about all this cause they’re going to be back. I mean there are also kanthony fans who say this. Let me reassure you they’re not going to repair what they did. They’re not going to give Kate the backstory she was due in her season. Their time was supposed to be two years ago. All we can expect from Kanthony from s3 is a couple of family scenes and Anthony being away most of the time. Maybe Kate with Francesca. The actor was away for most of the shooting and even if this wasn’t the case there’s no way in hell they would give us something cause they went out of their way to give us NOTHING in 2022.

In conclusion if it‘s true this damn show is going to come out god knows when next year I’m only unhappy cause I want Simone to get out asap and not because of Kanthony, we’re not going to get much of them anyway. I’m not even sure they’re going to give us Edmund. I bet they’re going to give us the same answer we got regarding why they couldn’t show two weddings in s2..”this is Polin’s time, we’re already going to show their kids there is no reason to show Kanthony’s as well”. Bet.

#bridgerton #simone ashley #kanthony #polin #jonathan bailey #asks

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bb-editing · 2 years

Text

ROXANA (Chapter 19)

*E/N: Sorry for the half-week hiatus, I was traveling. Did some editing on the plane, though; triple update today.

–––

Wishing to avoid the topic, I ignored Cassis’ question and responded with an air of obliviousness: “Eat well, sleep well, and recover quickly.”

Cassis clearly hadn’t expected such an answer from me- he looked slightly surprised.

“Eat the food. I didn’t poison it.”

Cassis’ gaze fell to the tray on the floor beside him. I thought that he would feel uncomfortable eating with me in the room, so I made up some excuse or other to leave him in peace.

Since there wasn’t a proper place to sit, I made a mental note to bring a chair the next time around.

I was quickly convinced that Cassis wouldn’t threaten or attack me, so I began thinking of other things to bring to him. After a while, Emily and I headed back to his room with new clothes, though I sent her away just as we were about to enter.

It was troublesome to have to lock and unlock the door each time I entered or left the room, but it couldn’t be helped.

I frowned. Cassis was standing, instead of being seated like before, with his back to the door. He had taken off his shirt, revealing the bandages that covered his body. I got the feeling that he was in a bad mood.

Finally, the door had locked, and he turned his head to look at me. His quiet, golden eyes somehow rendered me speechless.

It wasn’t the first time I’d seen a man’s naked torso, but… Why do I feel so embarrassed right now?

Was it because the room was darker, or because Cassis was moving towards me with such a potent stare? I felt like I had intruded into his personal space.

“I have to shower,” he finally said quietly.

A small rag fell from his hand, making his back muscles stir and bringing to light more pronounced definition.

“Oh, yes…” I replied unconsciously, before snapping out of my daze. What’s with this strange atmosphere again?

Maybe it was time to adjust the candlestick. But if I did that, would it seem like I wanted to see more of his body?

Of course, these thoughts meant that I had become self-conscious in front of Cassis. But why? I frowned.

“I chose this room because it had a bathroom in it, and I didn’t want you to feel uncomfortable,” I said, pointing to the bathroom door beside him.

Cassis looked in the direction I was pointing in.

“This.” He lifted his arm to show me. “I can’t change because of the chain. Oh. He’s right.

Clearly, he had to literally tear his shirt off because of the chains.

“I’ll loosen the chains on your wrists and ankles. Would you like me to replace your limb restraints with a leash?”

Cassis was silent, obviously unhappy with my proposition. His eyes grew colder.

“Well, it’s certainly better than having four chains attached to your body.” Of course, I would keep the hemp material, which was perfect for neutralising aggression, though I wasn’t sure if it would work on Cassis.

After all, even with the hemp restraints, he looks like he’s on the verge of attacking me…

Cassis didn’t answer me, but he acknowledged my words and seemed to reluctantly accept the offer for the collar. He lowered his arm, as if to give up defending himself.

Since I had no intention of letting anyone else into this room yet, I had no choice but to put the leash on Cassis myself. As I moved closer, I sensed discomfort on both our ends.

“I know it’s uncomfortable, but be a little patient.”

For a moment, his gaze washed over my face- then he turned his body away.

Truly… isn’t beauty a power in its own right? It would have been easier if Cassis had fallen in love with my beauty like other men; I felt a tinge of sadness and reached for him.

The moment my fingers made contact with his throat, he flinched, but begrudgingly allowed him to leash him.

“…”

Suddenly, the atmosphere became even stranger. A young boy, wearing a black leather leash, with his upper body full of wounds no doubt caused by sadism.

Feeling like I had become a pervert, I frowned, before loosening the chains on Cassis’ arms and legs.

“The structure of this mansion is like a maze; even my brothers get lost sometimes.” I paused. “Those who arrive at Agriche for the first time aren’t able to find a way out, so they’re always stuck wandering around.”

Cassis turned his head at my words.

“Of course…” I smiled at him. “I know a shortcut to leave.”

“You should go in and wash up now.”

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randomestfandoms-ocs · 2 years

Text

So, I’m back

Tentatively, at least. I’m going to give it a try, I guess is what I should say, but I don’t want to do that without acknowledging some of what happened in May. This is going to be a long post, so as a very loose outline I’m going to start with the overall Tumblr shit, the May stuff, and my decision to go awol for almost six months. After that, I’m going to talk a bit about the CK situation, and then at the end I’m going to outline my general plan going forward. (but, this is a very very long post, so I’ll be putting a lot of it under a cut)

First and foremost, I’m sorry. I know that I have hurt a lot of people, I have been inconsiderate, stubborn, and prideful, and although it was never my intention to hurt anyone, it doesn’t undo the harm that I’ve caused to people that I care very much about. There is nothing that I can say that will erase that damage, but I am so incredibly sorry all the same. None of what I’m going to say in the rest of this post undoes the hurt that I’ve caused. I can offer explanations, apologies, and plans for moving forward, but I’m not looking to pretend that nothing happened. All I can say is that I am truly sorry to everyone who I hurt.

I never copied an oc or an edit on purpose. That doesn't mean there were never similarities between my creations/ocs and other people's, whether that be total coincidence or having seen/been inspired by others' work unconsciously, and I am sorry that when people would contact me about issues like this, I would get really defensive. That wasn't right of me, especially to shut down conversation about it when i know creators love their ocs and work so hard on their projects and are so close to them.

It’s not fair for me to dictate how people express their concerns, but I know that much of my pushback and defence came when confronted point blank with "you copied/stole from me", because I did feel attacked. My immediate reaction was always harsh and emotional, that no, I can’t steal an idea when I didn’t know existed, and I didn't go looking for things to copy. That defensiveness has definitely made me shut down conversations where I’d probably have been better off responding “hey, definitely wasn’t deliberate, didn’t know you had something similar, can we talk about this more so I can make changes and make them more different ?". I would feel attacked, and get my back up, that people would say these things to me. I like to think that I responded better to messages like “hey, I’m uncomfortable with how similar these are” or “hey, I started x trend and you should credit me”, and I do have people who I worked this out with like that, but I also understand that some might feel differently, and it wasn't fair of me to base my accountability and courtesy on the criteria of how nicely someone who probably felt defensive and hurt in their own right approached me about it.

I’m not planning to make any further posts on the subject because it’s admittedly a big complicated mess and there’s a lot to say, so I tried to touch on all of the basics here, but for anyone who would like to talk more about anything in this post (or about anything else, really), my DMs are open and I’m happy to talk. I’m not going to pretend that this one post erases everything that has happened, I know that it doesn’t, but I don’t think that I can achieve anything more in messy public posts; I really feel that anything more can only really happen in proper conversations.

I’m not looking to talk shit or unpack a bunch of drama or anything, so I’m going to keep this part very short. On a personal level, in early May I had only just started a new job and was working, on average, 16-18 hours a day. I was waking up between 6 and 7 every morning for the first job, then getting home around 2 from the second, with barely enough time in between to have a meal and get changed. I was tired and snappy and overwhelmed as can be without including anything from Tumblr. I will be the first to admit that I was not in a particularly good place, so when everything started, I got incredibly defensive. Obviously external circumstances don’t justify my behaviour and I hate that I hurt someone that I considered a close friend, but that was where things started.

From there I don’t know everything that happened, I assume that various conversations were going on that I wasn’t a part of, but I received very hurtful messages from a few people I had considered among my best friends. By then I was already regretting how I’d handled the initial situation and was just too hurt and stubborn to admit it, but I didn’t want to hurt anyone else or cause more damage by lashing out again, so I quit Tumblr. I deleted the app from my phone during a shift after getting these messages and when I got home from work I unfollowed every oc blog that I’d been following, signed out, and closed Tumblr on my computer. I know that my decision to unfollow everyone also hurt people, and I’m so so so fucking sorry that I didn’t communicate with anyone before (or, frankly, after) doing so – it boiled down to the fact that I knew that I wouldn’t be able to completely leave Tumblr if the urge to “oh just take a quick look and see what’s going on” was still there. I’m very good at justifying myself and I would have convinced myself that it was always just once or just to check on [all of my friends]. I knew that I needed a clean break and work through things for myself and on my own time first so that I could then approach things calmly and with an open mind, and while I don’t regret taking that hiatus, I absolutely regret being so callous and inconsiderate with how I did it.

And, I won’t deny, I was also feeling extremely hurt and needed to leave for my own wellbeing. I know that I was defensive and dismissive myself, but seeing what I thought was an argument with a friend turn into dozens of posts about everything apparently wrong with me was overwhelming and hurtful and I knew that staying online through that would only make me more defensive and more inclined to lash out. I understand that some people felt that I wasn’t hearing them out privately and felt that this was the best way to communicate and I can’t hold that against them, but I still believe that it was entirely uncalled for that people who I’d never once talked to were jumping on this bandwagon and making statements as if they were involved. I’m not looking to deflect blame for the hurt that I caused, but quite frankly I was not the only person who reacted badly during that time period and I’m not looking to pretend that I wasn’t incredibly hurt by other people’s actions as well.

I definitely wasn’t planning to take almost six months off, but once I started the hiatus, I started to realize two things. First of all, my mental health and presence in my own life was so much better without Tumblr, and second of all, that the particular inciting incident was really just a side effect of a much bigger problem in my overall relationship with Tumblr, and I realized that there was no way that I could return until I’d really figured out the roots of the problem and how to fix it. After all, I can apologize all I want for what happened (and as flippant as this may sound, I really am incredibly sorry), but it would be completely worthless if I didn’t take the time to improve my behaviours and figure out how to avoid repeating toxic patterns. I kind of lucked out in that some shit was going on in my workplace (some shit with a coworker and extensive shit with my manager; I’ve now quit that job and I’m much happier for it) that, while different, stemmed from a lot of the same places in my head, which made it much easier to start identifying those issues. After that, it was really a matter of figuring out practical solutions and making sure that I was in a position to return to Tumblr without falling back into shitty behaviour and hurting other people and, frankly, damaging my own mental health again. That took a lot longer but I’ve started to build a plan for it, which is just a little bit further down!

So, that’s the summary of May and why I disappeared. But, the other thing that happened in May (though admittedly not a factor in the hiatus) was the Codename Kryptonite situation, so I’m going to touch on that next. This is going to be even more rambly because frankly (as will be very clear) my brain was a fucking mess with all of it and I can barely process it let alone explain it, but I’d rather give a very messy disjointed explanation than totally ignore it.

So, the long story short of it is yes, that was me.

Honestly, the CK stuff was something that spiralled far more than I meant for it to until I didn't know what to do. I'd made it with just the intention of working on original stuff separate from my fanfic stuff and related drama. At the time, original work also didn’t get much traction in the oc community, so it was intended to me more of a writerblr situation. Then people were talking to me which I hadn’t really planned for and I got a couple of asks about fandom ocs and was kind of like "okay i guess?" which is where the fandom oc stuff started. I was just trying to engage with people’s creations and generally be positive because I didn’t want to seem like a bitch who posted my own shit but ignored everyone else, but then people started actually talking to me too (outside of the handful of people who knew it was me, so I never had concerns about talking to them) and I started to feel like not responding/trying to be friends would be bitchy and hurt people, so I went along with it and told myself I’d just be nice but didn’t need to be Super Social. Like I wouldn’t ignore people but I wouldn’t go out of my way to start conversations either.

But the longer that went on, the more of a disconnect there was in my brain where like, ik this does sound ridiculous, but it did start to feel almost like being two different people, including interacting with other blogs (in messages, asks, giveaways, and posts) as if they were two entirely different people. Obviously this wasn’t the slightest bit okay and I am so fucking sorry to everyone who I hurt in the process. There is no good justification for it, all that I can say is that I never meant to hurt or betray anyone and I’m so sorry. Rather than make the reasonable judgement that there was clearly a bigger fucking problem and that it should be a sign that I needed to step back from everything, I dug my heels in further and devoted myself even more to working on CK-and-related content. I’m not even sure why, but it felt like the right choice at the time — except the more that I dug that hole, the harder it was to take a step back, even when there was a part of me that knew that I needed to. Looking back it’s really obvious that it was unhealthy and harmful, both to myself and the people around me, but even when it was killing me to try to stay on top of two blogs, I couldn’t figure out how to just like… stop.

I know that doesn’t make a lot of sense and definitely doesn’t make it okay, but my intention was never to hurt or betray anyone and I really truly hate that I did. Taking a full break from tumblr for a while now has definitely helped me realize how much of a toxic cycle it had become (partially externally but a whole lot of it was obviously self made) which is why I took so long figuring out how to go back without falling back into those patterns, which is the last thing that I'd ever want to do.

I hurt a lot of people that I really care about on tumblr, but my relationship with the whole oc creation thing (not the community specifically but the way that I handled creating ocs and pushing myself to create so many edits) was also damaging to myself and a lot of my irl relationships, and I think that a lot of it is stuff that like... in the many, many moments I couldn't see how out of hand things had gotten (not just with the ck/fanhub stuff but also with my main, my mental health, and my online and irl relationships) but now that I have some distance from it it's like, so blatant. I don’t mean any of this in a "i hope that makes sense bc i'm right and blameless" or whatever because like, i know it was fucked up and entirely my fault, but I hope I did a halfway comprehensible job of explaining what I'm still trying to work through/understand. And again, to everyone that I hurt, I’m so sorry. There’s not much more that I can say because obviously there isn’t a good excuse, but I promise that my intention was never to hurt, mislead, or betray anyone.

So… what does this mean now?

Tbh, answering that question is what’s taken me the longest in coming back. Like, okay, figuring out what some problems are is great and all, but it’s not worth much if I can’t figure out a way to fix them. So I tried to look at a few of the main problems that I’ve had, and I have a few things that I’m going to be trying. This is not an exclusive list, and I am definitely open to suggestions (I’ll talk more about that in point 5/6), but this is both an outline for you all to know that I’m not just talking out of my ass saying that I’ll change and then doing the exact same shit, and a guideline to myself of concrete ways to try to improve, both for myself and the rest of this community.

1. Less giveaways. I’m not saying none ever again, but I need to cut back. This isn’t something that’s exclusive to Tumblr by any means (tbh I became aware of it because of an issue with a coworker and then realized I’ve done it my entire life including on Tumblr) but I have a desperate need to feel liked and in order to achieve it, I end up constantly doing things for people to try to convince them to like me, only to then get incredibly burned out and end up resentful of feeling like people only use me to get things. I love to surprise people with gifts, but I need to change how I approach that. I might still do giveaways on occasion (maybe for milestones, tbd) but I’m going to focus more on being supportive to the friends that I do have instead of trying to convince people who don’t care that they should like me. I’m going to try to stick to making surprise gifts when the inspiration strikes and, when the usual giveaway urge strikes, I’m going to try to reach out to those people and ask what they’d like instead of overwhelming myself to the point that I can no longer enjoy what I’m doing.

I don’t mean this to be petty or to “punish” anyone, not in the slightest. But I spent so long hosting giveaways to convince people I’d never interacted with to like me and I put so much energy into making gifts for people who only tolerated me at best and in the process I lost sight of the friends who were actually there for me, and of my own limits (both mentally and in my time and ability to create). I’m not looking to stop making gifts for people, not even close, but I need to learn that friendship isn’t transactional – I can’t, and shouldn’t, put so much time into making gifts as a bribe to get people to like me. It’s not healthy or realistic, and I’d much rather spend my time doing things for people who’s friendship isn’t conditional and who I want to show my appreciation for.

2. Limiting my posting. As some of you know, I spent about two years following an absurdly intense edit schedule that had me posting three or four times a day every day. In retrospect, that was bullshit. I convinced myself that if I just posted more and more, it would get more people interested and engaging with my content, and I was hilariously wrong. I ended up incredibly burned out and stressed trying to keep up with it, by trying to rush through it my edits ended up mediocre and repetitive, and I overwhelmed everyone else with edits to the point that no one (including me) could even really enjoy any of it, not to mention that often by the time I reached an edit in the list, I would have totally lost inspiration for that oc .

My logic started out strong; I had other shit going on and couldn’t always be editing and I’m painfully indecisive at times, so having a schedule meant that I could have edits ready ahead of time when I knew I’d be away from my computer and I wouldn’t lose all of my time trying to decide what to do, but it got out of hand (a recurring theme of this post, so something I’m very very focused on improving). I’ve spent the past few months only editing when I’m really inspired by something, and it’s been so much better. I’m having fun, I’m learning a few new techniques, and I think that my edits are turning out all the better for it. So, that’s what I’m going to try to keep doing. I have a list of edit ideas already, 50 of which are done and drafted, so I will be putting those into a queue (for only once a day now) and continuing to edit only as inspiration strikes.

My hope is that having so many edits already done will limit my anxiety about needing to churn out more content and will allow me to instead continue to have fun and follow my muse. I haven’t decided if new ideas will be jumped to the top of the queue or simply added to the bottom (probably some of both), but ideally this will not only allow me to enjoy my own work again but will also make it easier to spend time enjoying others’ creations without feeling like I’m somehow slacking or wasting time by not constantly pushing myself to make more.

3. Limiting my availability. One of the external factors in my initial decision to leave Tumblr was that I was just too fucking overwhelmed. At the time, I had only just started a new job and was working, on average, 16-18 hours a day. I was waking up between 6 and 7 every morning for the first job, then getting home around 2 from the second, with barely enough time in between to have a meal and get changed. Obviously this doesn’t excuse anything, and I’m not trying to, but it’s a fact. When I’m that overwhelmed and exhausted to begin with, it’s impossible for me to stay rational and reasonable here on Tumblr, and the extent to which everything here was overwhelming me was having a severe impact on my mental health and job performance, which is what led to my deleting Tumblr mid shift in the first place. Obviously, I don’t want that to happen again, so I’m going to work to set boundaries for myself. While my edits will run on queue and I might mindlessly reblog things to my main throughout the day, I’m going to limit how much time I dedicate to Tumblr, and particularly this blog.

I am back to only working one job now (thank god) but it still takes up a lot of time, I have offline hobbies, and some of the best friends I’ve ever had. Prior to my hiatus, I was always on Tumblr. During my breaks (sometimes during shifts, too), while with my family, while with my friends, I felt that people would get mad if I didn’t make myself constantly available and so I did. Going forward, I’m going to greatly reduce that. I’m not going to use Tumblr at all at work (including on my breaks) or when I’m with my friends, and I’m just generally going to spend less time online. This will make me slower to respond to people, which is something that has always caused me anxiety, but I feel that it is imperative for my wellbeing that I do not let Tumblr become all encompassing again.

4. Scrapping ocs. Look, if we’re talking about things that have gotten out of hand, we all know that this is at the top of the list. Obviously I have a lot of ideas, and I don’t regret that, but there are so many that I know I’ll never ever use. Plot bunnies that I just don’t care about, times that I went “oh that would be cool” but had no real ideas, fcs that I wanted to use just for the sake of using them, fandoms I’m no longer into… there are a lot of reasons that they exist, but it only adds to my feeling overwhelmed and burning everyone else out. So, I went through all of my masterlists and made lists of ocs to scrap. Some will just be completely deleted (I won’t rule out the possibility of getting reinspired, but I think it’s unlikely), while others will be put on hiatus.

The ones that I’m getting rid of will be removed from all of my masterlists (maybe one day I’ll look at making a plot bunny book/auction so that they don’t go completely to waste and other people can use them), and the ones being put on hiatus will be deleted from my mobile master lists and marked as Inactive on my desktop masterlists. Those are ones that I feel more likely to eventually want to go back to, hence not deleting them completely, but that I’m unlikely to work on in the near future. I think that it will be good for me to get used to the idea that not every oc needs to be forever, as that has been an ongoing source of difficulty for me for quite some time.

(my mobile masterlists are already updated accordingly and I have the codes ready for my desktop masterlists, I’m just waiting to have javascript enabled — but I also plan to go back through masterlists regularly to see if, with time, there aren’t more ocs that I’m ready to table)

5. Communication. I’m going to be honest here, I know that I’m prone to being stubborn and self righteous and that I lash out when I feel cornered or attacked. It’s a part of who I am and it’s something that I’ve been working on for a long time, but that doesn’t mean that I’m perfect at it. So, basically, this is something that I’m going to keep working on. And that means setting some boundaries. First and foremost, I will not be engaging with any hateful anons. If you have something to say to me, put your name behind it. And with that, I will not be engaging in serious conversations through asks. I just don’t think that the format is good for real conversations – my DMs are open and I’m always happy to share my discord, but that will be it. And I know that not everyone will like this choice. I think asks are great for a lot of things, and they can be a great place for chit chat, but I don’t think that it’s suited to important conversations.

I’m also going to connect this with my being less available – I’m not looking to ignore messages, but I’m not online 24/7, and I will respond when I have time. I might also need to take time to think about things. In these situations, when I am online and see the message, I will acknowledge them. It might be as simple as “hey, I’m not ignoring you but I only have a few minutes, I’ll get back to you when I have time to talk!” or (one I do wish I’d used in the past) “feeling [hurt/angry/surprised/etc], let me take a day/two days to think about this so that I can chat with a clear head”. I know that the second one likely seems like a copout, but like I said, I get mean when I feel defensive, and the best way for me to manage that is to take a step back and actually think about what someone is saying, that way I’m almost guaranteed to be able to think clearly and see their perspective instead of lashing out. I’m hoping to eventually reach a point where I can do that without needing the extra time, but I’m not there yet and I would rather take time than hurt anyone.

6. Accountability. This is kind of a continuation of the last point, but I felt like it was time for a paragraph break. Like I said, I’m not unaware of my flaws, and I know that just because I never meant to hurt people doesn’t mean that I never did. But I want to do better, and that means taking accountability for my actions. So, this is an invitation, I guess? If I have hurt you (or if I do in the future, no matter how hard I’ll try not to), please feel free to reach out to me to talk things through. I know that I already said this, but I’m working on taking a step back and considering my actions before simply lashing out, and I know that there is existing baggage to unpack and work to be done in that regard, and for people who would like to, the offer stands. However, I’m not going to reach out to anyone myself at this point. I know that I’ve hurt people and I know that there are people who, by this point, would prefer to simply have nothing to do with me, and I don’t want to disregard anyone’s boundaries who have moved on and don’t want to unpack old wounds. While there are many people that I miss and would love to fix things with, it’s not just about me and I want to respect everyone’s choice on what’s best for them to move forward. But with all of that, I am not going to discuss things with third parties. Anyone who would like to discuss general hurts or concerns is more than welcome of course, but anything that has happened between myself and any specific person is something that is exclusively between me and them. I know that this will be an unpopular take, but I have limited faith in the third party side of things now. Over the years I have received asks and messages from supposed well-meaning bystanders trying to bring up conflicts that don’t exist.

There have been some that try to cause drama with people who I knew didn’t feel certain ways, bringing up “issues” that had long since been talked out, and many other instances where people were clearly just trying to start fights that I don’t wish to fuel. I also just don’t want to talk about people behind their backs. Over the years (and not just relating to Tumblr) I have gotten caught up in friend groups where a lot of time is spent complaining about other people, only to then look back and realize that I have no idea what someone else’s relationship with them is – I don’t want to let other people’s anger and resentment serve as a fuel to my own pettiness anymore, and I believe that the first step to that is to simply not talk about anyone with other people. There are still people that I want to reach out to individually to apologize and (only if they’re willing) talk things out, but I won’t be doing that immediately. Just because I’ve had the past several months to reflect on how I’d feel and what I’d like to say, and to mentally prepare for a return to tumblr, doesn’t mean that everyone else has too. Which isn't to say that I won't ever reach out to anyone but I'd rather give people a bit of time too. Just because I'm ready (or ready ish) to be back on tumblr doesn't mean that everyone is going to be ready or want to talk to me and I don't want to make anyone feel cornered or pressured to reply if they either want time to think about my post themselves or just want to move on and leave everything in the past, so I’ve made a personal timeline (shared with a friend to maintain some accountability to it) so that I can give people a chance to actually know that I’m back online and to think (if they’d like) about this post rather than reaching out when people might not even know that I’ve returned at the risk of catching people off guard or making them feel uncomfortable and/or cornered.

With this, I’m also offering this list as an outline of how I’m hoping to improve. If anyone has constructive suggestions (I know I’m hardly the only person who’s ever struggled with various aspects of Tumblr and engaging in this community), please feel free to send them over (privately or as asks or on anon, whatever works for you!) and while I can’t guarantee that everything will be right for me, I will absolutely give them consideration. And, too, with this list as a bit of a guide, if you notice that I’m starting to stray from this or fall into old behaviours or fuck up in any way – I’m hoping not to but it would be beyond conceited to pretend that I’m incapable of mistakes – please feel free to let me know! All that I can do is try to be better, but I’m not infallible and the best way to do this is to catch onto toxic patterns before I can spiral, and help in that regard is always appreciated

7. Following. Relating to one of the points that I made in the last paragraph, I’m not going to go back and start following everyone right now. As I mentioned much earlier, I feel that my decision to unfollow everyone and leave Tumblr with no warning was rash and not entirely thought out, but it did happen, and it did hurt people. I don’t want to just act like nothing ever happened and everything is hunky dory, and I’m sure that there are people that I previously followed who would prefer to have nothing to do with me anymore. I respect that and I’m not looking to force anyone into rekindling friendships that they no longer want, but that does mean that to avoid that, I’m going to be careful with following. I don’t know how to phrase it in a way that doesn’t sound petty or selfish but basically like, at least for now (at until I’ve been able to talk to people who want to talk), I’m only going to be following people who are either following me, engaging with my content, or who I’ve talked to. I don’t know how best to gauge this in the long term, but for now that’s kind of the only benchmark I have to know who might be comfortable with my presence, and I’d rather be very slow and careful about this than make anyone uncomfortable who doesn’t want me following

I can’t promise that this is the perfect recipe. I won’t know without trying. But I am going to try. Not only do I want to actually be able to enjoy Tumblr again, but I hate knowing that I hurt people that I really really care about because I was careless and too stubborn to consider that I should change. So, I’m going to do my best to stick with these changes and to let myself be held accountable when I fuck up. And it might not work, I might find that this is all great in theory but returning to Tumblr pulls me back into toxic mindsets and behaviours, in which case I will need to take another step back and reconsider again. But I do promise that if that happens, I will stick to my communication goals and inform people of my decision instead of simply ghosting again.

Again, I’m sorry. I know that doesn’t make up for anything that’s happened and I can never say it again, but that doesn’t mean that it doesn’t need and deserve to be said. I’m sorry.

(and a sorry to everyone I’ve ignored over the past several months, I’m going to start working on getting back to people asap!)

#okay to reblog #(but not conversing in replies / reblogs)

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