Streamer Childe

Childe X GN! Reader

Fluff!

Word Count: 1.5k

Childe, “Tartaglia,” one of the most popular gamer Twitch streamers out there, has over 6.4 million followers.

He doesn’t really go by Tartaglia unless he’s being consumed by his ego, Childe is the name he mainly goes by.

Of course, it’s a running joke in the community that he’s called Childe because he acts like one - and lets be honest he does act like a bit of a child lol.

His real name is Ajax, but he’s pretty determined to keep his private life private. He’ll only let people know what he wants them to know.

Since he’s the most popular streamer out of the friend group (Xiao, Scaramouche, Aether, Venti, Zhongli, Albedo, and Kazuha), he’s more liable to hacker attacks.. what people don’t know is that he’s a hacker himself.

Like an actual hacker.

He doesn’t use this to hack games, no, he’s got a sense of reason, he uses it to annoy the shit out of people and protect himself and friends.

His background is.. not entirely known, but here he is now! A streamer who’s been at it for close to seven years now.

He gained popularity quickly from his looks alone, but his chaotic persona certainly attracts another demographic as well.

He’s insanely good at games, preferring to play multi-player just so he can obliterate his opponents and tea bag them. He’s the king of games like Valorant, Apex, and League of Legends, streams where he’s playing those games are LOUD. He’s constantly seething and screaming.

It’s literally so funny. He’s not toxic, just an idiot.

Talks mad shit, but he can back it up.

Adores destroying Scaramouche in games especially, but they’re one hell of a team if they team up.

Keep reading

Dragonfly

zhongli/f.reader

genre: morax/zhongi, immortal!cursed!reader, miko/shrinemaiden!reader, angst, hurt/comfort(?), slow burn, reunion, traveler is NOT y/n, implied xiao/traveler,

warning(s)!!: mentions of: death/repetitive deaths, war, past suicides, the suffering of immortality in a mortal body, for the sake of this fic dragonflies are semi-common in teyvat/liyue lol, xiao considers zhongli/reader parental figures, things will definitely not follow canon timelines, Xiao is a frequent/important character, characters may be ooc (im sorry)

w.count: 15.6k (i am so sorry)

SYNOPSIS: fate and time are cruel kings ruling over even gods. morax is no exception. the only human he ever fell in love with was twisted by fate to battle him in a brewing war. the image of the burning temple that she resided in rested behind his eyelids and not a day goes by that he does not still mourn and yearn. time had cruelly taken you away from him. or... had it?

“Hello Traveler!” The soft yet chipper voice of the ever-pranking funeral director calls out from behind the blond Outworlder. The day in Liyue was still young and bright as the umber-clad young lady walks up to both them and Paimon who had floated herself bouncily from the Traveler’s right shoulder to the left.

“Oh,” Paimon begrudgingly acknowledges, form bobbing in the air comfortably. “It's Hu Tao.”

“Paimon,” Traveler scolds, crossing their arms over their chest. Paimon just sighs as the blond looks to the funeral director who had come close enough for conversion and unfolds their arms, bringing them down to their sides relaxingly. “Good to see you, Hu Tao,” they greet with a small nod.

“Indeed,” Hu Tao nods back, closing her eyes briefly in glee before reopening them. “It is lovely to see you. Are you here to visit Liyue? Or, perhaps another pressing matter brought you back to this nation once again.”

“It’s nothing drastic,” Traveler dismisses. “We just.... had some time on our hands. So, we’re just visiting.” Partially, that was the truth. However, the full truth was that there was most definitely something the pair could be doing instead of wandering around Liyue. But it was important to take time for yourself sometimes, right?

“Well, feel free to stop by the Wangsheng Funeral Parlor if you’re interested! I’d be happy to host the both of you for a meal.”

“You mean, Zhongli would host us?” Paimon quips up knowing that, as Hu Tao’s consultant, Zhongli’s job descriptions can vary in terms of tasks. However, when Paimon spoke Hu Tao lifted her arms up towards herself. One wrapped around her chest and rested the elbow of her other, resting her curled fingers against her chin in thought.

“Perhaps, not this time. Zhongli has had something on his mind these days.” The woman brought her curled hand and arms back down, now gesturing them softly in front of her as she spoke more. “It would feel distasteful to ask him to host guests at the moment.”

The mention of Zhongli being mentally occupied made the Traveler and Paimon look at each other. They were privy to a lot of information the consultant kept tucked away from public knowledge- for good reason. The staged death of Morax for one. Although Hu Tao had once speculated that Zhongli could possibly be an Adeptus, she surely didn’t know that she wasn’t exactly far off from a bullseye.

Still, the fact that Zhongli, the former Lord of Geo, was distracted so much that Hu Tao had essentially dismissed him of some of his duties was a concerning thought. He never seemed the type to dwell so much on something that it obstructed his work.

“I’ve tried asking him about it before,” Hu Tao continues, “since he gets like this around the same time every year. All he’s ever spoken to me about it is that someone he knew from his past had died around this time. It felt… wrong to pry into his past more for some reason.” It wasn’t an odd statement coming from her. She often took her work very seriously, even if she herself was a spitfire of a young lady.

“Someone from his past died?” Paimon asked, already knowing about his past with the Adepti and The Seven. Perhaps, it had something to do with them? Either way, the concern was planted in the Traveler’s chest, so it felt only natural to find the ex-Archon and try and get some answers out of him. Maybe, since the pair had already known about his identity it would be easier to talk about. Or, that was the hope at least.

Hu Tao and the Traveler spoke briefly for a moment longer with the usual snarky comment from Paimon before going their separate ways. Hu Tao had apparently been on her way out to fulfil a clients few specific requests and her stop for a chat was pushing to make her behind on her work. Paimon didn’t mind if she went on her way sooner rather than later, the dealing with the dead had always been creepy to the floating companion.

Regardless, Hu Tao was a nice lady. Traveler would make sure to stop by and see her more, maybe indulge her hobby of poetry a bit.

The two had walked around the busy streets of Liyue for a while trying to find Zhongli. He wasn’t at the funeral parlor, much to their dismay at making it an easy search, so they just starting wandering hoping to catch him somewhere along the way. Soon enough, they had wandered just far enough to catch a glimpse of his long brown tailcoat at Liyue Harbor.

In retrospect, they should have started their search here if the funeral parlor was a bust.

Zhonglig stood with his hands tucked neatly into each other behind his back, shoulders slack as he looked out over the landscape. He was basking in the solitude at the top arch of the harbor’s bridge when he hear the approaching sounds of footsteps. Turning his chin, he unclasped his hands and let his arms fall from his back before turning to greet the approaching Traveler.

“Ah,” his deep voice reverberates and only the closest to him can detect the faux sound of a choked strain in it. “Greetings, Traveler.”

“Hello, Zhongli!” Paimon greets floating just a fraction ahead of Traveler. “What were you doing?” She already begins to pry with a suspiciously high-strained voice. It just makes Traveler silently sigh and shake their head. She really needed to work on being more conspicuous.

It’s quiet for a moment before Zhongli already catches on. Perhaps he can be a bit dense about certain aspects of the mortal realm, but he was by no means a fool. A smile finds its way on his lips in a moment of mild amusement at Paimon’s grace, or rather lack thereof.

“I was merely lost in thought. Reminiscing about the past, you could say.”

“The past?” She pressed again.

“Paimon,” the Traveler hisses for the second time that day. The floating girl just opened her jaw in mock offense before floating closer to them.

“What? What did Paimon say now!”

Zhongli’s low chuckle was a soft tune that at least showed he wasn’t offended by the blatant attempt at coaxing his thoughts out of his lips.

“Did the Director send you to find me perhaps?” The fact that he was trying to slowly steer the conversation away wasn’t lost to the Traveler. Paimon and them both looked back to Zhongli shaking their heads.

“Not exactly,” Traveler starts.

“We did run into her though,” Paimon tacks on. “She told us you had been down in the dumps, so we came to check on you!” Paimon’s small hands came to her hips and her chest puffed out as if proud of her actions of checking in with a friend.

Zhongli chuckles once again at the way Traveler places their hands on their hips as well,. Though, they were instead sending a playful scowl at the back of Paimon’s head.

“It is quite refreshing to see the two of you bicker,” he chides. “It certainly helps in easing the mind.” Once more, the two’s attention was drawn back to the former god.

“So,” Traveler starts before Paimon could interject with something else, “there is something on your mind?” There was a growing fit of silence between the group of three, no one speaking in fear of shattering something they couldn’t exactly describe. Zhongli seemingly caved with a minuscule sigh kept more to himself than the harbor’s breeze.

“The assumption that I’ve been a bit… preoccupied is correct. Lately, it seems I cannot focus on certain tasks for too long. My mind has a bit of a tendency to wander around this time of year.” Zhongli can already see the look of curiously mixed with concern written into the eyes of both Paimon and Traveler. His own eyes flick around the bridge and beyond the harbor’s main port before returning back to his visitors. “If you’re very interested to know, then I would not mind trying to explain it all over some tea. Though, it would be best if we took the topic of conversation elsewhere.”

The sudden shift in his demeanor was almost palpable. It was like a cloak of grey mist started to waft around his very being at the mention of speaking his mind. Now that the two outsiders got the confirmation that whatever it was that was plaguing him was of the past he doesn’t let others know of, they were ready for a lengthy story.

Zhongli had graciously invited the Traveler and Paimon to his personal abode, a place they had never even set eyes on. Of course, they knew he had to have had a place to stay and sleep, but for some reason it felt like all he ever did was walk around Liyue, do his work at the funeral parlor, or listen to stories at the Third-Round Knockout. It shouldn’t have been a shock to know he had his own home, but all the same, it was.

It was simplistic inside, with the shelves being the only things of high value because of all the collected items he had bought and stored on them. Gesturing them both to a set of chairs between a table, he began brewing tea to serve as promised.

Traveler sat awkwardly at first. Shuffling around in their chair while Paimon floated around the open space of the house being nosier than she should’ve been truthfully. Still, Zhongli didn’t say anything about her snooping so she continued to do so until the homeowner returned with a tray in his hands.

A decorative teapot sat in the middle of the dark, wooden tray atop a plain towel; the steam of the hot, freshly brewed tea wisped out gracefully from its spout. Beside it were three small teacups placed upside down that clattered with the smallest sounds of finely made clay as he set the tray in the center of the table. Along with them was a small dish of cubes of sugar and a small creamer that held milk inside it.

Zhongli skillfully took the teacups and flipped them over, setting them all upright and easily pouring the exact same amount of tea into each. The brew was dark and the steam wafted around the tabletop before dissipating into the air only to be replaced immediately with more. He slid two cups toward Traveler and the other to Paimon once she stopped her floating around and settled once again as the third member of the current party. He offered the milk and sugar to the two of them as well.

“I prefer my tea black, but please help yourselves.” Zhongli settled into his own seat easily. One arm resting on the arm of his perch and the other on the table top to curl his fingers around the cup he had prepared for himself. His legs crossed out of habit and it was then that the Traveler realized he had taken off his tailcoat. It was purely out of habit to take it off when he had arrived to the privacy of his own home, and he didn’t even realize it himself- not that it mattered. It was simply a different look than they were used to.

Paimon began dropping sugar cubes into her cup a bit too clumsily as small droplets splashed on her hand from the objects breaching the liquid causing her to yelp. In turn, the two seated companions offered her chuckles of amusement as she blew on her hand. Of course, it was hardly an injury- it was more a fright than a burn.

“It’s hot,” Zhongli chided.

“Gee, you think!” She then started dropping in cube after cube much more delicately. Or, rather she would drop them from the same height as before but immediately fly away when she let go so the upcoming splash wouldn’t touch her again. The Traveler made their own additions to their tea as well, but much less messily.

The three settle into a comfortable silence filled with small sips of tea and clicks of returning cup to wooden table top. That is, until Zhongli broke it by placing a small wooden box on the table in front of him to join in with the teatray and it’s accessories.

It was an elegant box the size of his fist. Golden edges wrapped in angular designs and a locked latch in the front of it. On the top of the lid was the symbol of a Geo Vision. At first, the two travelers thought that maybe this box is what he stored his fake Vision in when it wasn’t on his person. Pulling a small key from under his long-collared shirt, he unlocked the box and opened the lid. From where the Traveler sat with the lid facing them, they still couldn’t get a peek inside.

The last thing they expected Zhongli to pull out of the cushioned, plush lined box was a hair ornament.

Modeled in the shape of a dragonfly, the piece was carefully handled by the ex-archon and placed so very delicately on the table. The wings of the dragon fly were filled with a crystal that shone green and teal, the colors shifting with the light and angle as which it was gazed upon. The piece itself was designed as a hairstick, acting as an elegant means to pen up locks of hair- the metal rod of the stick seemed well suited for such a job. Matching teal-green crystal beads hung from the bottom tips of each wing as decorative tails.

It was a beautiful piece to gaze at.

Zhongli kept his hand on the table right next to it, his fingertips just a breath away from touching it again. When Paimon got a bit too close while gazing at it, Traveler could see the slightest twitch run through his fingers. As if the ex-Archon was anxious about Paimon getting too close to it. Still, to not be rude he said nothing as she continued to narrowing gawk.

“Paimon, back up a little,” Traveler said, sitting forward a bit to try and act like they were trying to get a better look while simultaneously trying to get Paimon to back off a bit. When Paimon floated back to her place by her teacup, Zhongli’s shoulders loosened like he was relieved at the distance between the reckless floating fairy and this clearly important item.

“You were curious on what has been on my mind, yes? This is a one reason I’ve been rather… absent as of late.”

“You’ve been spacing out over a hairstick?” Paimon asked astonishingly. Zhongli shook his head.

“Not quite.” His fingers uncurled and genly brushed over one of the beaded tails, letting the crystals bump over his fingertips. His eyes softened, yet that cloak of grey melancholy came back to him. “It’s more about who this was going to belong to.”

Traveler and Paimon both had questions, but remained silent. They both settled into their respective places ready to listen to the story he was surely about to unweave. They knew that the tea would grow cold and kettle drank empty by the time it was all finished. Though, the look in his eyes and the way his voice grew softer in a way that pulled at the heart made the eternity of sitting in one place much easier to bare.

“This ornament was going to be a gift to someone I knew a very long time ago. I never had the chance to give it too her, however; so, I keep it here with me where it is safe. I cannot bare to throw it out, even after all this time.”

It seemed crazy, how the two swore his eyes had grown misty just saying those few sentences. How this story is going to start all because of a crystal dragonfly from millenia past.

There were many places that had been tainted and driven to ruin due to the war raging by the Archons. Gods were battling each other for power, others trying to flee from another’s unjustly wrath. Some even tried defending their people instead of taking place in battles or retreating. It was chaos and there were few corners of the old world of Teyvat that wasn’t splattered in a thick muck of bloodshed.

Still, that didn’t mean everywhere had been tainted. No. This fact rang true as Morax had discovered one fateful day a small territory cleansed of blood and impurity.

Hidden behind a barrier he had stumbled upon in the middle of a half dead forest, the invisible viel hid everything beyond it from sight. In fact, if he hadn’t happened to be near it, the Archon probably wouldn't have noticed it in the first place. The barrier itself easily gave and allowed him passage inside which led him to believe it was more of a mask than a shield.

Walking through it led him to a forest of lush floral and trees that thrived surrounding a small section of land that housed no more than 500 people perhaps. A small village with huts scattered around plots of farmland and a rather luxurious palace atop it all. It was a farcry from the near-deathly state of the outside world and the whiplash of it made him momentarily wonder if he was somehow succumbing to some sort of hallucination.

Morax walked through the dirt paths all the way until the thick wall that cut off the eastern styled palace from the rest of the people. Walls tall and made of a stone the God of Geo had to have created at somepoint. The craftsmanshift of it was marvelous he had to admit as there was not the slightest crack between the stacked stone. Easily vaulting himself onto the tall wall, he gazes beyond it’s perimeter.

Inside of the sturdy walls, he could see six different buildings. Along the two side walls of stone stood two houses each. Two west and two east, separate yet built so similar he could easily mistake the four as clones of each other if not for his experienced eyes that had seen such fine details over his life. Connecting these four abodes from west to east were grey, stone paths. The same cobblestone led beyond the front gate he had forwent as he perched atop the wall and led straight forward to a single building that was larger than the rest. Morax assumed that was the main estate just from the grandeur of it compared to the lacking other four.

Though, the final building is harder for the curious immortal to see. It was built directly behind the main estate, no doubt also connected with the same clean stone paths that weaved through the courtyards. All Morax could see of this building was it’s roof, the same tiled and burned color as the high status homes around it.

Morax straightened his body from it’s crouched position and began to gracefully walk along the stone wall. Getting new angles of the buildings inside, he soon grew close enough to the main estate that he easily lept to it’s roof. Landing as if the air lessened his weight, he could now view that one single building he hadn’t yet more clearly.

Immediately, the Archon recognized it as a temple that without a doubt housed priests and priestess alike. Some may be masters at their craft and others may be but small, inexperienced fledgings beyond those sacred walls.

The idea of a temple like that in an uncharted and untainted territory flared his curiosity. So much so, he was hardly in control of his instincts as he once more lept gracefully from the estate’s rooftop onto the stone paths. His barefeet made a sound of collision when his heels touched the man-made path, and continued to make the same shuffling sounds as he walked straight into the temple.

Morax did not run into a single person in the temple, though he could hear matras and practices from around different open training fields. Even the soft plunks of arrows being driven into targets for archery precision and the chiming of bells for cleansing. The open halls of the temple and the roof over his head that kept the sun’s heated glare from his figure felt comforting.

Being in a place so filled with peace and sounds of anything but war was outlandish to the otherwise warrior-type god. Morax had contracts to fulfill and his own principals to protect while fending off other gods trying to level his unnamed throne. Taking out a few of his own violation never did any harm to strengthen his gag between himself and others.

The god had walked so freely that he soon found himself under the sun again. Instead of in the open halls of marble floors and burgundy columns, Morax was standing amidst a field of wild grass, flowers, trees, and bushes. It was like the lush forest outside the stone perimeter allowed a single bit of it’s ecosystem inside the temple just for the mortals to bask in.

A small humming of wings quickly caught Morax’s attention amidst the sounds of the wind’s breeze and dancing leaves. His chin led his head in the direction before coming to see a small dragonfly hovering around him before landing on his shoulder. The view of the insect was neary cut off by the hood he always wore over his head, but the bug itself was peaceful just resting it’s wings on the god’s shoulder for respite.

For a moment, the warrior of countless battles felt relief. For just that moment, the weight of such responsibility with his temperament lifted all because a small insect decided to rest on him.

The dragonfly’s respite did not last. The little critter’s wings began to hum again and soon began to hover off and before Morax could stop his feet, he found himself following it. Bare feet stepping over well worn paths of flattened grass and dirt patches. Not long from where had previously stood, he stopped at seeing where the small insect had flown to in lieu of himself.

The eyes of the archon landed on the first person Morax had seen since entering this temple- although uninvited, presence unknown and undetected. Reaching out a delicate hand with her index finger extended, the dragonfly landed easily on the appendage.

A priestess knelt elegantly in the tall grass, previously inspecting herbs when she heard the familiar buzz of wings. The hakama pants that folded at her legs were neatly pleaded without a crease out of place and her kosode tucked perfectly into the trousers- not a wrinkle to critque. Her hair had been loosing tied back with a red hair ribbon that fluttered in the breeze that kept the tall grass swaying like waves of spring.

The wind picked up when the dragonfly lifted off her fingers and off back towards Morax. It was like the little creature had led him straight to her and was now directing her vision back so they could meet each other’s gaze.

It was all thanks to that one, small bug that Morax and first made eye contact with you.

“Oh,” your small voice of surprise- at seeing such an odd looking man in the overgrown, private gardens of the temple- carried on the same wind that the dragonfly danced in. You stood and dusted off your knees, knocking any sticking dirt off your bottoms before standing up properly. You inspected the man in front of you.

Arms dark as earth with cracks of glowing gold. Clad in a white cloak that split five ways down and encompassed with a golden belt at his waist with a hood pulled over his head. The hair you could see whipping lightly in the wind behind his back was dark in color matching his arms. His trousers were wide open and baggy around his legs, only encasing snuggly around his ankles. His impressive stature gained your attention easily and you could tell he wasn’t exactly something mortal. It would be ridiculous to think just at the sight of his arms alone, not to mention the air around him seemed so… powerful.

“My apologies, I wasn’t aware we were expecting a guest today,” the courteous smile you sent him made him wonder if you weren’t at least a little apprehensive of his unexpected presence.

“You weren’t made aware because no one aside from yourself is aware of my being here.”

“I see,” you muse. “I hope you are aware that qualifies you as a trespasser.”

“Trespasser?” Morax gapped, losing his composure for a moment. His brows dipped in offense under his hood, his pride kicking into his throat through his words. “I am no such being.”

“Ah, but aren’t you just? You said yourself, no one knows you’re here. Yet, you end up in the presence of this temple’s Miko. If that does not mean you’re trespassing, what does?” Morax’s eyes hidden under his hair and flick from your head to your feet and back up again. You were the head shrine maiden? You seemed so young and yet you held such an important position? It planted a pebble of doubt in him.

Then again, if he focused on you properly, he could barely see a small circular arua around your frame. It was like a barrier was placed around you, one protected you from the outside and anything that could taint you. Exactly like the barrier surrounding the territory he had more or less invaded. Honing your spiritual power like that so young, he would’ve perhaps tutted in impressiveness if you hadn’t challenged his very being moments ago.

Still, Miko or not, he still outranked you. Crossing his arms over his chest, their golden geo pulsed with a soft light.

“With such a rank you possess, are you still so unaware when a God stands before you? A pity.”

“On the contrary,” you smile to him and his brow again twitches at your nonchalance. “I’m being quite respectful if you think on it. If you were simply a noble who lives among the palace homes, I would’ve quickly dealt with you since only a select few from outside are allowed entry into the temple. Much less this garden which is private and limited to my attendance only.”

“Are you implying you could force me away at any moment should you please?” His voice grew tight in challenge. His sense of traquilty from before discovering you was dimming and the frigid air of his battle sense were returning even as the wind continued to caress you both.

“I assure you I would do no such thing. I’m simply proving that even in the presence of a God, I will not yield since I do not even know which is in front of me. Not to mention, this land has no God to speak of or for. So, if you think about it that way, I am where one would hypothetically stand.”

Oh.

Morax felt something stir in his chest at the teasing tilt in your voice that spilled over your lips that curled into a smile. Your eyes were so clean and clear, it was like staring into crystals and he had the urge to create a new form of geo just to replicate them. The feeling was foreign to him, but it shocked him greatly when he realized it wasn’t an unwelcome stir.

He finally dropped his crossed arms and began to decrease the distance between you both. Morax came to stand in front of you so he could get an even better look at your features. As such, you could now look easily under his hood as he stood above you. His eyes seemed to glow a lovely shade of amber that complemented his glowing, golden skin and dark hair.

“Address me as, Morax,” he instructed. Your taunting smile turned soft and wide as your eyes closed in the most pleased expression he had seen in years. His amber eyes widened at the innocence and the small bells of laughter that left your throat towards him shook his unshakeable core.

“That’s much better,” you said, now obviously pleased. “I’m, y/n. It’s an honor to meet you, Morax.”

It was his name rolling off your tongue- spreading into the wind that had blown harshly for but a moment- that sent an earthquake that started at his chest and spread through his whole body. It was the sound of his own death sentence and he was once again shocked at how he easily accepted that he would definitely be back to this temple. Be back to this garden of overgrown grass and floral.

Morax would definitely be back to you.

As promised, Morax had been back to that temple several times since the first time he met you. When the weight of the archon war was- ironically- too heavy, or if he needed a place to escape just for a moment he would seek you out. It was quiet ridiculous how you had somehow wormed your way into his very soul and wrapped him around your finger.

The Lord of Geo had come to learn much about you in the time he spent by your side. Your favorite flowers and scents, when you had started your priestess training, when you had progressed to the skill level you possess now and how long you had been the acting miko of the temple. Your favorite type of weather, or time of day, or season. In turn, he had confessed things about himself as well.

How he had been around for as long as the world- or so it sometimes felt that way. How he’s in the middle of a grand and merciless war with other gods presumably because of issues to do with celestia. How he had taken many lives of both mortals and gods alike all for the sake of his own land and people. The very feeling of battle is engraved in his bones like names on a tombstone, yet it didn’t seem to push you away.

It was laughable. The very Being of war and battle was utterly infautated with you, a mortal being of purity and values. Of course, you were alway assure him that what he did was just his own values, especially his strictness with any contract he made. You neved judged him for his sins and the weight they carried, but you never outwardly agreed with him either. You told him what he needed to hear, not what he wanted and he cherished those words so dearly. If he had any less self-restraint, Morax could easily let himself take your very words as law itself.

Yet again, it was another day he had left his duties behind him as he found you kneeling in the fields of grass once again. Leaping from the outerwalls, to the rooftops of the estate, to the roof of the temple, he easily lands like a pebble hitting sand next to you. It was the rush of air beside you that alerted you of his attendance rather than any sound he made- or didn’t make.

“Hello again, Morax,” you greet as you thumb through the herbs and check the petals of nearby wildflowers. Morax kneels at your side before sitting fully in the grass, one of his knees bent up to prop his arm on with the other stretched out in front of him. A rather relaxed position you had insisted he use instead of kneeling for however long he visits would last.

“Good afternoon,” he replies. It’s silent for a while after that. The atmosphere of simply being with you was good enough for Morax. That was until the urge to speak and hear you speak in return hit his throat. “Your people seem more rowdy than usual.” He didn’t need super-enhanced senses to tell that the noise had increased since his last visit.

“You can tell that even though you’ve never properly been inside?”

“I have been inside.”

“No one knew that thought,” you tease with a finger that flicked back and forth a few times. “So, it isn’t a proper stroll in my temple.” Morax playfully chuckles at your antics. “You are correct though.”

“Is there a reason?” He had noticed it since he arrived, but the air around you seemed heavy. “Something seems to be weighing on you.”

“You’re perceptive. I suppose I shouldn’t be shocked about that considering-”

“Y/n.”

You sigh before the hand that had been thumbing at flower petals falls back into the tresses of wild grass and to the ground at your side.

“The monks are gathering in a rush under Master Jiang’s orders.” Morax’s brow furrows at the information. You had mentioned this Master Jiang before. He was apparently a traveling monk that had previously been nomadic. Though, since the archon war had only gotten worse over the course of time, he had settled in the safety of your barrier and subsequently in your temple.

On the rare occasions you let your irritations get the best of you, you spilled your guts to Morax about how he was constantly chanllenging your power and position in the temple. Thinking he was better because he was older with more experience beyond the protective walls of your home. Along with the misguided misogyny of being a man. It was one thing after another, spouting off about anything that irked you until you got all your curses off your lips in the privacy of the archon.

Morax had not met this Jiang- not to mention anyone else outside of you inside the temple sense his visits weren’t exactly documented- but he already strongly disliked him. Now, he was trying to taking charge of your temple?

“For what purpose.” You do no respond to him right away and it sends a jolt through his nervous system. “Y/n. For what purpose,” he repeats with a heavier tone. You let out a sigh that feels as heavy as your aura as you sit in the field of wildgrass and flowers with the closest being to your heart.

“He’s afraid that we’re going to soon be effected by the war as well.” You didn’t need to specify which war, he was more than well aware which you were referring to.

Among the other things he had learned about you, he had come to understand why your people were save from the archon’s destruction so far. It was because of you and your power.

Inside the temple was a specific place for you to practice your skills and keep the barrier around your precious home. That didn’t showcase all you could do, however and Morax knew it. Keeping the living things inside safe and keeping all the taint out. If something did happen to get inside your barrier, you were quickly dispatched to purify it. You could tell the moment something breached your safe haven, all the proof he needed as his first appearance to you.

You had admitted ot him once that the reason you didn’t immediately cast him out was simply because you didn’t feel any hostility from his presence. He had no intention on hurting your people or home, so you allowed him access in. That barrier was an extension of your power; constant proof you were so much stronger than that stupid old monk was trying to plat down.

Morax had only heard the sound of your birch tree bowstring plucked once before, and the air instantly felt cleaner. He’d heard bells in the distant halls while he waited for you in the treetops of your private garden to avoid the chance of being seen. While with you, he had picked up on a masking you placed over him so he couldn’t be detected by others and kept safe from prying eyes. Your power still astonished him even after all this time.

“That’s asinine,” he growled. The whole ordeal of it all just set the message that they didn’t trust you and your abilities. After all you had done since you were a child to protect these people, after everything you’ve sacrificed, and they’re doubting you now? When your powers were in their prime? It was insulting.

“Morax-”

“Do not try and save their value but udnermining your own.”

“I’m not!” You cry in exasperation. You let out another sigh before letting your body lean into his shoulder and against his propped up leg. Morax froze up as your body softly collided with his own. While you had him attached to your very being, hook line and sinker, he had never once touched you. Not a single brush of his fingertips to your body or even allowing your legs to touch as you sat side by side.

The side of his body you rested on felt like a volcano on his geo-ingraved skin.

“Sorry,” you whisper. “Could I stay like this just for a moment longer?”

His arm that you leaned against came to wrap around your shoulder and push your head further against him. The archon lowered his leg to join the other on the ground just so he could have you closer to him. His chin rested by your forehead and he closed his eyes letting you invade every one of his senses. Squeezing your form as he felt the trembles you tried to conceal and force to stay inside, not letting yourself break as much as he wanted you to. Morax wanted you to feel safe and open with him, but he understood all too well how difficult a task that was as someone of your strict upbringing.

“Stay here as long as you need. I will not move.” Morax was geo, the land itself. He created mountains and stone and they all know his name. He was a god of contracts and his words were just as serious as those that he holds so strictly to them. The Lord of Geo would stay your unyielding pillar for as long as you needed him. That he promised to himself as he felt your small drops of tears silently fall onto his chest that he dare not mention. The urge to wipe them away and treasure you like a fragile bell ached within him, but he dare not act on those either.

For but a brief moment, Morax- the Geo Archon- wished for a single second he was mortal. That he was like you.

Morax had no idea how this happened. What had gone wrong? Was it him? Did his sudden intrusion into your life of purity ruin everything? As a god, did his divine hands finally touch something he was never meant to?

Weeks ago you had urgently awaited his normal time of arrival but as soon as he showed, you urgently told him to leave. To leave the temple, the palace, the barrier- all of it- and never come back. You had demanded he return to the world he knew, the one filled with smoke and war and ongoing conquests. His chest filled with thick, black tar as you screamed at him and he did what any sane being would do. Morax screamed back, unable to understand and he was losing his patience bit by bit.

The Archon wanted answers, none of which he demanded for were satisfing. The monks had finally discovered that you had been meeting with an outsider from beyond the barrier; to make matters worse, they knew it was Morax who had been active in the outside war since it begun. They were focring you to make a decision and the best course of action was to push him away before things got too out of hand and would be to a point where you could do nothing.

It made no sense to Morax. He could help, he was certain of it. He’d let you direct him, use him how you like and pull his actions like a puppet on willing strings. He’d follow your every order to the letter if you just wouldn’t force him out and shun him like you were desperately trying to do.

You wouldn’t yield.

Morax hated your stubbornness now more than ever. You finally forced him away with a bracellet you had made yourself that was nothing but clear-ringing, golden bells threaded with red string. The sound they made amplified your power and he knew at just the meresight of them you were trying to make him leave.

With one flick of your wrist, he could feel invisible threads of nothing wrap around his limbs and begin to tug. Once more he tried to reason something- anything- out of you, but was met with nothing but a second ring of bells that yanked his whole being out of your barrier. Forced out and finding himself outside, he was furiously frustated. Summoning his polearm, he let out a cry before thrusting it into and then subsequently through the neearst tree effectively slicing it down.

Your final words to him stay in his ears like a parasite- pounding against his eardrums so violently he was afraid they'd burst if they continued to torment him.

“If you ever return, I will have no choice but to take further actions, Morax.”

Morax had to stay away from you. It’s what you wanted; or maybe it wasn’t your wish- but it’s what you said. What you demanded he do. Still, he didn’t know when this happened. Morax didn’t know when he decided that the last thing he would ever do is stay away.

Therefore, Morax still returned into your barrier and through your territory. Just as you had said, you were true to your words.

The moment you felt his presence trespass inside your barrier, you evacuated the palace and with the same bells you sent him away with, you summoned him back. It was like he was teleported with magic, the same invisble strings that had yanked him out now drew him in. The ringing of your bells reverated in his ears before he was standing in that same overgrown field.

Morax stood in the one spot he first saw you and you took presence in the spot he had found you kneeling. This time, there were no dragonflies humming in the air and something in him knew there never would be again.

“I told you,” you choked.

“I refuse to listen to a moral’s orders,” he bit back. It was a lie. He said he’d listen to your every word, and he meant it. Even when his desperate pleas to stay by you landed him nowhere by alone.

Morax knew there was only one option left as he eyed the staff in your hand. Your grip was so tight around it your hand trembled with the sheer force of it. Your head shook with micro-swivels on your neck as you kept your eyes on the ground.

“You should have.” Morax’s polearm materialized at his side in a moment before he took it’s familiar grip into his palm. He had only ever told you of his weapon, never wanting to show you in case it tainted you somehow. All that silly precaution seemed so pointless now.

The gentle breeze he was accustomed to had become bone chilling as you lifted your chin to finally look at him. Morax almost caved seeing your angry tears, but as you moved to engage in battle, he let his body move on it’s own. The god who was so accustomed to battle just wanted to shut his brain off for this one.

Morax didn’t want to do this.

The battle between you both was a long one. You screamed at each other. Sometimes words, sometimes just sounds of angusih and pain. You knew Morax was holding back on you, you didn’t have the power to fully stop a god and you knew it. Morax knew it. Whether he was holding back because of his affections for you or because he was toying with you, you couldn’t figure it out. The power of your barrier did limit his abilities some, but it was hardly enough to be considered a handicap.

Still, somehow, you had knocked his polearms from his hand before you forced him onto his back into the grass.

His cloack was torn and his arms of geo-glowing beauty seemed dim and dark like the shadow cast over his eyes. His hood had been knocked back while his hair was tosseled and battleworn. Your body and his were covered in cuts and burns and scrapes. Everything hurt from inside your body to the outside.

You had him on his back as you climbed over him. Your legs pinned his arms down and your weight sat on his chest, the bottom of your staff pushing into his throat as your labored breaths shook throughout your whole body. All you had to do with lift your staff just a fraction and slam it back down and you could do some major purifying damage to his body. It probably wouldn’t kill him… but what if it did? Did you have it in your to purify a god? Maybe if you tried, it would take all your strength and you could die together. You almost scoff at yourself-

-wouldn’t that be just poetic.

You could feel his own chest heaving under your weight and you knew he could easily throw you off him if he wanted to. Just like before though, he did nothing. He just lay in the grass beaten and battered as he glared beyond the staff’s pole into your face. You hated the look in his eyes.

“Will you not follow through?” He chastised with so much venom you wanted to vomit. The staff shook once with both of trembling hands holding it above his neck. You had to- it was your duty. You would be betraying your people if you let him live. For your people, for the cowardice monks who forced you here, for your ignorance for thinking you could keep Morax by your side without consequence. For everything you had trained for until now, you had to get rid of him. You had to!

Morax sucked in a breath as he readied his neck to be pulverized. Your staff came away from his throat… and soon your weight was being pushed off his body entirely. Raising to your shaking, exposed legs from your torn trousers, you took staggering steps backward from him. Morax’s glare morphed into shock as he raised to his elbows to watch you retreat.

“What-”

He watched your chest heave with frustrated tears. Choked, uneven sobs tore at your throat as you screamed before throwing your staff far from your grip. You heard it clank against Morax’s discarded polearm and thought for a moment how ironic it was. Your weapon reuinited with his in your moment of weakness- your lowest point of failure. The moment you threw duty away and chose yourself for once.

“I can’t,” you cry, falling to your knees into the singed and destroyed field that once flourished so wonderuflly. “Please, go,” you beg. Morax climbs to his feet, wincing at the wounds on his body before calling for his polearm again. Once it was again in his grip, he looked at the dried blood of yours that litered the blade. The Lord of Geo immedately dismissed it, watching it disapate into the air from whence he summoned it. He simply stood there, looking down at your crumbling frame.

What were you doing? You were going against your practices and willingly letting a supposed threat escape. He took one step in your diection, still so woefully attached to you. Watching you tear at the seams and keep unraveling in front of his very eyes. He was at a loss; what could he do to even begin to ease your suffering when he himself was part of it?

“No.” You could feel his eyes on you and his want to approach you burnt the top of your head at which he gazed. “Be gone.” You demand once again like the first day you chased him off. You didn’t hear him move and in a fit of nothing left, you tore off your bell bracellet and threw it in his direction. “Go back to where you belong!” And in a mere moment, his presence vanished and you broke completely. The eyes of the monks watched as you sobbed in the gardens, the battle they made you wage concluding with no victor.

“Zhongli…” the story behind the hairpiece and his grief was heavier than either Paimon or Traveler was expecting.

“I had planned to gift this to y/n during one of our meetings. I knew she wouldn’t be allowed to wear it of course,” he chuckled bitterly to himself. “For a great many of reasons. Still,” it would’ve proven to myself she was mine. Zhongli cleared his throat. “Regardless, I think I’ve spoken enough for once. The tea has run out and you both surely have other arrangements as the day is waning.”

“Paimon doesn’t think-”

“Then, we’ll be off,” Traveler interjects. Zhongli was just being polite but what he was really saying was that he wanted to be alone. “Thank you for telling us. Y/n sounded like a wonderful person.”

“Tis but a story.” The way he replied made it sound like he was trying to convince himself more than them. The two left his home, leaving him still sitting at the table with an empty teacup and still holding that crystal winged dragonfly like it was Teyvat’s most precious treasure.

It was quiet between Paimon and the Traveler as they walked aimlessly around Liyue. The Traveler’s mind boggled at the information they had been told and grew curious to any they hadn’t. They were almost certain that there was more to your story, but Zhongli couldn’t bare to say anymore.

“Wait,” Traveler stopped in the middle of the path, bringing their hand to cup around their mouth in thought. “That all happened during the Archon War, right?”

“Paimon thinks she remembers him mentioning that. Why?”

“Do you think Xiao would know anything about it?” Traveler thought about it, but if memory served Morax was the one who granted Xiao his name. As Paimon looked at the blond with wonder, a voice spoke behind them.

“You called?”

Paimon’s screech echoed into the air as the Traveler spun around, not expecting the very apedtus to show up. Xiao sure took the calling of his name seriously.

“Paimon never-” the floating companion looked to the blonde. “Oh, yeah. I guess we kinda did.” Xiao crosses his arms as he stands expectantly. The daytime hours were few in remaints and the streets began to slowly thin in populous, so he was less reserved about being around people, Though, he still didn’t want to linger either. Regardless of his wants, he noticed the air of tensity around you both.

“Did something happen.” It wasn’t a question, it hardly was when Xiao was involved.

“Do you know anything about a woman named y/n?” Xiao’s body when frigid as he dropped his arms and quickly stepped up to the both of you. Coming nearly toe to toe as the Traveler squeaked and took a half step back.

“How do you know that name.” Once again, Xiao wasn’t asking. Traveler looked around and decided that standing in the middle of the road wasn’t the best place for this conversation.

“Let’s go somewhere else.”

The newly formed trio had migrated outside the city and out into the wilderness by a river. Xiao and Traveler took to sitting among stones, Xiao crossing his legs and Traveler letting their’s dangle. Paimon’s ever floating presence never going too far from the two. They sat and listened to the sound of the bable of running water, trying to find a way to reopen the previously halted conversation.

“Did Rex Lapis tell you about y/n?” Xiao ripped the bandage off first, something Traveler was almost thankful for. “That’s the only possible conclusion I can think of if you know her name since she wasn’t memorialized during her lifetime.”

“Yeah, he did. I’m pretty sure he chased us out before he could tell us everything though.” Xiao nodded. Earnest understanding shone in his eyes but there was something else behind those irises of his, but the Traveler couldn’t figure out what it was. “Did you knew her too, Xiao?” He nodded again.

“Not long after Morax found me and gave me my name, I found out that he was frequently paying visitation to a mortal woman. I thought he was being reckless, so he took me to meet her one day.”

“He took you himself?” Paimon questioned.

“Yes. He wanted to prove a point.”

Xiao could still remember his first impression of you. You had scolded Morax as soon as he landed in the familiar garden, arms crossed and mouth opening in reprimands. Calling him foolish for bringing a highly detectable entity beyond your barrier- one he didn’t even realize he had breached with his archon- and that if you hadn’t masked his spiritual signal just like how you did with his own, he’d be in a world of trouble.

Seeing Morax take your scolding as he stood there bemused, Xiao’s first thought was that he did not like you. He distrusted you. What kind of mortal argues with a god on what they can and cannot do like you did? It was ludicrous. Still, the moment Morax introduced him as his newest comrade named Xiao, you smiled at him. You sent along with that smile a warm welcome and he suddenly felt awkward.

“Xiao,” you called to his back before he was to leave with Morax at the need to return back outside your walls. He did not turn around to face you, but he did not move until you spoke again. “Feel free to come back and visit anytime. I’ll keep you covered.”

“Rex Lapis- Morax- was the one who saved me and gave me the name Xiao. I respect him and owe him a great deal- a debt I may not truly be able to ever repay in full. In mortal terms, some may say he’s like a father to me.” Xiao’s chin lifted up to the darkening sky. The day had felt so long, the Traveler hadn’t realized just how late it was beginning to get. “If Morax was a father, then y/n was my mother."

The yaksha can still remember the first time he had sought you out for himself without Morax with him he was recoiling from karmic debt. It didn’t take a genius to know that he felt lighter in your presence- your purifying light helping ease his burdensn whether you did so purposely or not.

It was late into the night when you had awoken abruptly from your sleep to the sensation of Xiao passing through the barrier. You sprung up from your futon, quickly focusing on his approach and cloaking him the best you could. His energy was rough, dark and pulsing and it worried you. You quickly made your way out to the garden where you knew he’d be and unshockingly enough was when you arrived.

Curled into himself on his knees, his arms wrapped around his torso as black smoke engulfed him like vines. Gasping and sweating, he weakly stay collapsed in the grass as you ran to his side.

“Xiao!” You whispered in anxiety as you knelt next to him, your eyes teary in fright. “What’s happening to you?” He didn’t answer, just shook his head with heavy, labored breaths. The moment, your hand came to rest on his back, his eyes rolled back with a fraction of his burden easing off his shoulders. Xiao slumped into you, his shoulder and neck pushing into your legs as his head rested partially on your stomach. His sudden collison knocked you back into the grass, your previously kneeling form now firmly planted on the ground.

“Please,” he gasped as your other hand had come to his shoulder that wasn’t pushing into your lap. “Please, could you… sing.” In truth, he wasn’t sure why he asked that of you. He didn’t know what possessed him to request something so odd, but regardless of the oddity, you did. Your mouth had opened and you slowly and softly began to sing him a lullaby he had never heard before that night.

It was like a blanket of early morning mist started to coat his burning, heavy body. His aching came to a slow stop as his mind became clearer. You sang the lullaby over and over again until the effects of his karmic debt had disappeared into the evening air. Even when he went completely lax on your lap and your hands had moved to run through his hair and across his back, you kept singing until early that next morning Morax had come to retrieve his missing Adeptus.

As Xiao in the present looked at the stars, tracing constellations, he once again was reminded of your lullaby. You sang that to him many times after that and he remembered every single instance. It wasn’t far-fetched to say that the reason Barbarto’s song’s calmed him so is because he’s reminded of you in those moments and tunes.

Yes, Xiao came to revere you just as much as his Archon- even though you were just a mere mortal.

“So,” Traveler spoke up softly, trying to gently pull him from his obvious reminiscing. “What happened to y/n? Zhongli mentioned that he had fought her, but what happened then? Did they ever see each other again?”

“No,” Xiao’s face contorted into a grimmance as his fist’s balled in his lap. “Y/n was executed before Morax could ever see her again.” His fists were so tightly balled they shook, clearly he still resented the fate you had been subjected to.

“Executed?!” Paimon exclaimed. “But- but why?!”

“Because she let Morax live.” The yaksha’s eyes narrowed as he gnashed his teeth. “Those filthy monks that poisoned her temple confined her to a dungeon cell where they starved and deprived her of anything. Letting her suffer for days before placinig a curse and executing her all because she refused kill an Archon.”

“Did those people really not like Archons that much?” Paimon asked.

“They were monsters!” He exclaimed. “Y/n had been raised to choose the people over her own desires, but the moment she wanted something for herself they-”

“Xiao,” Traveler interrupted, reaching out their hand to place it on his folded knee.

“She didn’t deserve the fate they gave her.” Traveler only nodded at his solemn tone. “When her execution was carried out, Morax… he reacted to an extreme.”

“An extreme?” Paimon inquires. Xiao nodded, lifting his head back up from where it had been tucked towards his chest in anger.

“The moment y/n’s barrier disappeared Morax stormed inside. He destroyed everything he could get his hands on. I… I was with him.” Xiao was enraged at the news of your demise, but he knew as he watched the back of his Archon as took the lives of the lowly monks who dared try to outrank you that the grief and emotions Morax felt course through him far outweighed his own.

By day's end, the entire palace, surrounding village, and temple were all up in flames or crushed into rubble. Standing among the burning wreckage that stunk of ash, blood and death Morax plunged his polearm into the earth and screamed with no one left to witness him aside from Xiao. Instead of trying to approach his archon, he instead kept his eyes on the remains of buildings going up in flames like a personal pyre in remembrance of you.

“After that, Morax stopped talking about her to anyone. It was like he pushed her into the recesses of his mind and tried to erase her altogether. With the meeting of other Archons and the assembly of Liyue, it seemed like he was trying to move forward.”

“Poor Zhongli,” Paimon whined. “Star crossed lovers sure are sad to think about.”

“To this day, there’s no one y/n has cared for as deeply as Morax.” At Xiao’s confession, Traveler’s ears perked. Did they hear that right?

“Hold on,” they started, “what do you mean ‘to this day’?” Xiao’s body stiffened. He cleared his throat before he looked away, hoping that silence would push past his slip up. “Xiao!”

“It meant nothing.”

“Liar.”

“I am not.”

“Paimon thinks so too!”

“Your input does not encourage much.”

“Hey!”

“Xiao,” Traveler tries again, arms crossing over their chest as they straighten their sitting posture on the stone they still sat on. Xiao cursed himself at deflating so easily in the face of the blond’s pressure.

The Adeptus took after his Archon in that sense it would seem.

“If you can keep it a secret,” he hesitated, “then I have somewhere to take you.” Xiao’s face turned back and looked the Traveler into the eyes. They could see just house uneasy his gaze was, yet still under it was a stern ‘this is important’ before everything else. They nodded deeply towards him and force another sigh from his lips. The two of them jump from their stone seats as Xiao points in a direction. “Then follow me.”

“Paimon can keep a secret too!”

“Somehow, I doubt that.” Still, Xiao let her follow him too. The more the merrier you’d say- or at least he hopes.

“I had no idea there was a place like this in Liyue!” Paimon exclaims after Xiao had taken both her and the Traveler along a path through the forests and into a clearing. After approaching what appeared to be nothing, his figured seemed to pass through something. The two who accompanied him both gawked at his sudden disappearance into thin air before he was reappearing from nowhere. ‘Hurry up,’ he had told them as they cautiously followed his once again disappearing back.

Beyond the boundary of nothingness was a fairly large home that was longer than the clearing thy where previously in. The path forward was lined with trees and during the daytime they provided comfortable shade for any who walked under them. Now though, they just casted nighttime shadows of moonlight. The air felt different from the forest’s air as well. As if it had been filtered through something and made even cleaner than normal.

Xiao walked with confidence through the path of trees and up the steps of the elongated home like he had done it a million times before. He didn’t even stop to check and make sure that both Traveler and Paimon were still behind him and hadn’t instead wandered off. The lanterns that lit the halls cast moving shadows along the walls and they danced off Xiao’s back as they continued to trail after his heels.

Soon, he came to a stop outside a set of doors before looking at Traveler briefly then back again. He knocked twice around the hardened sides of the doorframe and didn’t wait for any signs of noise before taking further action. Sliding them open, he stepped inside and the Traveler and Paimon naturally followed.

It was a large room, a small floor desk tucked away on one side littered with papers, books and ink. Another set of doors opposite from the ones he had just walked through led out to an open terrace that further pushed out into a stone garden. On the opposite side of the room was an unfurled, messy futon that lacked a body to rest inside it.

Xiao sighed at seeing the empty futon and made his way out the doors to the wooden terrace. Apparently he had found who he was looking for since he began to speak and it wasn’t to the Traveler.

“Why are you not resting?”

“How could I when I have visitors?” A voice answered him and it made the skin on the Traveler’s face flush. It sounded clear like bells and was as soft as a gentle stream. Holding such composure- it reminded them of Zhongli’s voice and how aged it was. Xiao backed up into the room again as someone had came inside.

The dark hour left the woman mostly unseen, but Xiao was quick to start lighting a lantern for light.

“Thank you, Xiao,” she commented as the wick began to burn with a flickering flame. Traveler’s face remained flush at the woman in front of them. She didn’t just sound wise, she looked it. Like she had seen many years and experienced many things- but still looked so young. Xiao moved to her side and Traveler didn’t need to ask if the woman in front of them was who they thought she was. “Are you friends of Xiao’s?”

“Yes,” Traveler whispered before they cleared their throat and answered again. “Yes, we are.”

“I see.” Xiao cleared his own throat, turning his head away at the gaze the woman sent him. Luckily the lantern didn’t light the room the greatest so his tinted cheeks stayed between the duo and didn’t reach the Traveler’s eyes. Looking back, she smiled warmly and it seemed exactly like how Zhongli explained. “It’s lovely to meet you both. My name is y/n.”

“WHAT?!” Paimon exclaimed before slapping her hands over her mouth. Both at the discourtesy and the late hour she had yelled into.

“I assume you have a great deal of questions,” you tell them, “but, for now I think we should table all that for tomorrow. You’re both more than welcome to stay here for the night. Xiao can lead the way for you.”

With that, somehow the two travel companions ended up in a guest room with two futons and Xiao telling them to get some rest before leaving and presumably going back to your side.

You had once again left your room to sit on the terrace and Xiao joined you. Sitting beside you, his head coming up to your shoulder in height as you both looked and focused on nothing.

“Are you upset with me?” He asked.

“Not particularly, no. Shocked, maybe. I wasn’t expecting someone else to follow in behind you from the forest.”

“I apologize.”

“There’s no need.” You slowly bring your hand up to rest on the back of Xiao’s head, a comfort to both him and you. Just like how Xiao described you as a mother, you didn’t ever think of him as anything less than what you assumed a son would be like. “It’s actually helped me with something that’s been on my mind lately.”

Xiao just grabbed onto the sleeve of the robe you wore, not saying anything but conveying enough for you to understand.

“I’ll explain it tomorrow. For now, how about a lullaby?” Even from the guest room and with Paimon already asleep, the Traveler could hear a faint song in the air before drifting to sleep.

“Sooo, how old are you?”

“Paimon!” Traveler yelled. “That’s rude!”

“I was just asking a question!”

“Ask a different one!”

The small squabble that earned a sigh from Xiao the next morning led you into a small laughing fit. The group of you were gathered in a drawing room used for when Xiao would visit you during your days. You’d spend time listening to things Xiao would encounter outside, and while it was a good way to pass the time you would otherwise spend alone, it felt better with more lively guests like this.

“Xiao’s older than I am, so please rest assured I’m younger than you think.”

“Xiao’s older?!”

“Ahem,” the Yaksha interrupts by clearing his throat, “age matters aside, don’t you think now would be a good time for an explanation. If we’re gone from Liyue too long, Zhon- er- Rex Lapis could get suspicious.”

“Why’d you correct yourself like that Xiao?” Paimon asks before you answer for him.

“He feels like Morax’s mortal name makes me uncomfortable. I’ve told him time and time again that it doesn’t bother me, but he insists on using his other titles. Feel free to keep referring to him as you’re used to, I won’t get confused.”

“How considerate of him,” Paimon dryly says, pulling another chuckle from you.

“In any case, Xiao is right. I assume he told you about me, seeing as he brought you here himself.”

“Sort of,” Traveler starts. “Zhongli is actually the one who told us about you. Xiao just told us more.” A shocked look passes over your features when you hear that the former Archon had opened up about you at all. “He said that someone from his past died around this time and we were worried about him. We kind of… pressured him into telling us.”

“I don’t think that’s true,” Xiao said as he crossed his arms. “If Rex Lapis truly didn’t wish to speak about it, he wouldn't have. Believe me. He’s too stubborn.”

“Be nice,” you lightly chide him. “Still, it’s a shock. I thought he would’ve buried his memories of me long ago.”

“I’ve told you,” Xiao spoke up again, “Rex Lapis- he still-”

“Xiao.” Your voice was stern for a moment before he clammed up.

“Sorry,” he spoke defeatedly. Instead of staying quiet and letting the awkward air cloud up the room, he started up the discussion of why he had brought outsiders here in the first place. “Traveler, do you remember when I told you that Lady y/n had been executed?” Traveler nodded and was shocked at his use of a title. He didn’t use one at all when he was talking about you yesterday? Did he always address you personally like that? “Do you also recall how I mentioned how before she was killed, she was cursed.”

“Oh yeah,” Paimon acknowledges. “Paimon remembers you saying something like that.”

“It’s because of that curse that she’s still alive.”

“They cursed her not to die? Doesn’t that seem kinda dumb since they apparently executed her for not defeating Zhongli?” Paimon’s face scrunched before her entire being deflated. “Paimon doesn’t get it.”

“That isn’t quite correct. I can die,” you inform them. Xiao’s fist twitched as his gently grasped the fabric of his pants in his palms. “In fact, I have died several times. The curse i bare is that I cannot stay dead.”

“Isn’t that still contradictory to what the monk’s were trying to accomplish?” Traveler asks.

“Not necessarily. Back in my original life, I had broken a vow I had been raised on: placing my people above myself and never being selfish. That one sacred vow being broken was enough for Jiang to label me a treasonous traitor. This eternal life of mine is punishment for that crime.”

“That’s so dumb!” Paimon exclaims. You continue to explain after she’s finished huffing. Her puffy face was quite amusing to look at as she crossed her small arms like she was offended on your behalf.

“My curse resets my life to the point in time I was killed. Therefore, any injuries or illnesses I received in previous lives have all but vanished. I can still starve and freeze to death. I can become ill and contract diseases just like a normal mortal. I’ll die if I'm stabbed and I’ll scar if I’m burned. Still, even after all that, I’ll simply wake up again like none of it happened. This prolonged suffering is what Jiang and his acolytes were after.”

“That’s terrible,” Traveler whispers. “Have you died many times?”

“I’ve lost count.” You raise your hand to look at your palm that has been the same as the first time you woke up from death. In the ruins of your destroyed temple you were foggy minded and confused before your entire being filled with dread. “I’ve lived so many lives I cannot remember them all, but I know I’ve touched on every type. I’ve gone mad, harming people around me and myself. I’ve given in to every sin in hopes that they would allow me to die and not come back. I’ve even tried ending the cycle myself, but all to no avail.”

You took a deep breath before dropping your hand back to your lap.

“As stained as I am now, I’m hardly the priestess I used to be. I can never be that pure original version of me, but I’ve long accepted that. I’m quite… content with my life right now.”

“Content my foot,” Xiao huffed. “You were planning to stay alone for a lot longer if I hadn’t found you.”

“Wait,” Paimon piques, “found you?”

“It was purely by chance,” you explain. “Sometimes, I’ll venture into Liyue but under a cloaked disguise so I’m not recognized or detected. Some years ago, I accidentally ran into Xiao near Wangshuu Inn and spoke his name purely out of reflex. He heard me and well, it was safe to say he wasn’t exactly pleased as he tracked me down.”

“I was frustrated,” he corrected. “I came to find out you were alive and hiding for eons after thinking you were long dead.”

“I know.”

“Imagine how Morax would feel if he knew!”

“I know, Xiao,” you repeat. “That’s something I actually want to talk to you about.” Xiao stills in his rampage before his arms slowly uncurl and his posture takes on something uncomfortable. “You’ve kept my life a secret for some time now, omnienting the truth from the Archon you respect so much. I’m sorry for asking such a selfish request.” You turn to look at the slack faced boy before bringing your hand to cup his chin affectionately. Traveler felt like they were impeding on a parental moment as they tried to look anywhere but you both. “If you want to, you can tell him the truth now.”

Xiao’s hand comes to quickly clasp around your wirst that started to fall away from his face. His mouth opens before it closes again. He was torn between what he’s been wanting to do for so long and the open permission to actually do it.

“Are you… for certain?”

“Yes,” you swallow a lump in your throat. “I’m certain.” Xiao quickly takes your wrist out of his grip before he’s rushing to stand up. He stands with such a force he teeters on his feet before going to the door. He didn’t want to wait a single moment longer. “Xiao!” He stops momentarily and he’s reminded just for a brief moment how you spoke his name like that to his back the first day he ever met you milinia ago. This time though, he spun to look you in the eyes. “Take this with you,” you had gotten up from your place and placed your hand out of a nearby window. Bringing it back in not longer after, an insect of glimmering colors hummed through the space and landed on his shoulder.

“A dragonfly!” Paimon exclaims as Traveler also rose to their feet ready to follow Xiao out. Xiao just nods before dashing out of the door. Being inside your barrier always made it hard for him to teleport between locations, so he had to get outside first. “Traveler, lets catch up with Xiao!” Paimon says, pointing after him.

“Yeah,” they agree before looking back to you as you stay by at the window.

“Get going now,” you urge before Traveler was awkwardly bowing to you and running out, calling Xiao’s name to try and get him to ‘slow down and wait up!’

Once alone again, you felt a coil settle in your chest. It was the same tightness you felt when Xiao had found you. Found out you were alive as you confessed everything to his insistent pleading after following you into your barrier. You braced your hands on the window pane before swallowing a lump in your throat.

You never got the proper chance to tell Morax how you felt about him in your original life. It was wrong for a mortal like you to fall in love with a god- much less in the middle of a world altering war. You would’ve been far more foolish to confess your feelings than you were when you let him go.

The tight coil only grows barbed spikes as you remember the last time you ever saw him. Laying beneath you as you pinned him down. Standing before you as you demanded him away. Feeling the empty air as he vanished right before you eyes.

Xiao had told you that he was the one responsible for destroying your home. Burning it all down and destroying everything in his sight all because you had died. He was so filled with anguish and you didn’t know if you fully believed it. Xiao insisted that Morax hasn’t cared for a single soul as much as he cared for you. Even know as he lived as Zhongli you still hadn’t been replaced. You didn’t know if you believed that either.

“I won’t regret this… will I?” You ask no one as you feel yourself start to pathetically cry. “Weak,” you call yourself as you stand alone in the empty home you constructed for yourself long ago.

“Did you find him yet?” Traveler asks Xiao as they met back up in the middle of Liyue. Zhongli wasn’t at the funeral parlor and Hu Tao didn’t know where he had meandered off to before they came looking for him. He wasn’t at his home nor was he listening to that storyteller at Three-Round Knockout like usual. “Last place is the harbor. He was at the bridge when we found him, so let’s go look.”

They made haste to the bridge, but with crestfallen faces it was devoid of any kind of descended Archon. They were about to recollect their thoughts and try and figure out if there was any other place he frequented they could try when someone spoke up behind them.

“You all seem troubled,” the familiar voice of Zhongli startled all three of them as they all whipped around to look at him. He looked as composed as usual, maybe even a bit better than yesterday. Maybe airing some of his grievances helped him out a bit after all. Still, who knows how the news Xiao had for him would effect his mental well being.

“Rex- ahem- Zhongli, I need to speak with you.” In the heat of the moment, Xiao almost addressed him as Rex Lapis. Calling him that in the middle of the busy day would be a mistake, so it was good he caught himself. Zhongli looked at Xiao’s steadfast gaze and let it travel over to the blond and their companion who’s always had an issue keeping quiet.

“You all look stiff, like something has happened.”

“That’s Zhongli for you,” Paimon remarks. “Always perceptive.”

“So, it’s as I surmised.”

“I’ll explain everything, but it can’t be here.” Xiao stepped in.

“I understand,” Zhongli sighs. “Come with me. We can talk outside the city away from any possible prying ears. I would prefer to not be cooped up indoors.”

Just like the day before, Zhongli took the group out to the same river Xiao did; it was far from the people and now he stood cross-armed and ready for any sort of explanation. Traveler stayed quiet, knowing it was Xiao’s wish to say something first and made sure Paimon stayed quiet too. If anything, they were there to make sure nothing got out of hand- this was truly between them.

“On behalf of someone else’s word, I’ve been keeping something from you. It’s about… It’s about, y/n.”

“Xiao,” Zhongli bit and Xiao felt the words get stuck in his throat the moment your name left his mouth. Zhongli’s tone was already on edge. Just the mention of your name was enough to make the Archon nearly growl. The former divine being had been feeling the blanket of grief hold him down more this year than previous ones, the fact that he opened up about you just the day prior to the Traveler made old wounds throb. The last thing he wanted was to talk about you and make everything hurt all over again for another time.

“I understand you don’t want to talk about her, but please hear me out.”

“I will not entertain whatever thoughts you think you need to say. Y/n died a long time ago, you should leave her in the past.” His words were ironic since he himself couldn’t even do that.

“You don’t understand.”

“Xiao.”

“Please, she-”

“Enough!”

“She’s still alive!” Xiao, fed up with his god not letting him get a word in, blurted it out. He inwardly recoiled, not wanting to just say it like that. He wanted to ease into it, try and slowly explain it so Zhongli would accept it easier. “Y/n, she’s… she’s alive.”

There was silence so heavy it kept Xiao’s head down with an invisible force. His eyes stayed locked onto the boots of the one person who he respected the most. If he had never felt fear before this very moment, now would be the perfect introduction to it as he felt the burning gaze of Zhongli on his skull.

“Is that an attempt at a ill-advised jest,” Zhongli’s voice put on a dangerous tone. It was understandable and justified however. Who would just believe that the one mortal an Archon fell in love with thousands of years ago was alive? It sounded ludacris and Zhongli did not enjoy feeling like a fool.

“He’s telling the truth!” Paimon defended. Her mental restraint on not talking snapped at seeing Xiao look so meak under Zhongli’s overwhelming stature. Zhongli’s gaze shifted from Xiao to Paimon who squealed at the intensity before flying to hide behind the Traveler’s shoulder. His gaze was hard, stern, and angry.

“What could you possibly know? You only just learned about who she was through me- without my telling you so, y/n would be only a memory shared between Xiao and myself alone.”

“We know because we met her,” Traveler tell him. His fists clench and his jaw locks.

Zhongli couldn't stand lies or liars, and yet he wanted everything the group in front of him said to be bold face lies. Zhongli trusted the Traveler and Xiao the most out of almost anyone he knew presently. He trusted them with his secret and they always tried their best in their own duties and goal to find their sibling. He respected them and trusted them with his life as both Zhongli and Rex Lapis.

But did he trust them with your life?

With the promise of you being alive coming from Xiao and backed up by the Traveler, the former Archon was notably torn. He didn’t want to get his hopes up and have this all be some sort of illusion. A trick of the mind that will leave him crumbling just like the day he first lost you. He didn’t thinking he could take that kind of anguish again.

The Traveler stepped up and took Xiao’s hand in one of theirs and the other took hold of Zhongli’s. Paimon floated out from behind them as the blond made both of the immortal being bring their gazes up to them.

“Xiao can take you to her just like he did with us. Y/n is waiting.” The curled fist of Zhongli’s lessened enough to wrap around the Traveler’s comforting touch. He looked back at Xiao who had been looking at the blond with such gratefulness for salvaging the situation before calling his attention back. His amber gaze had loosened up, but they weren’t the normal eyes of Zhongli. Morax was peeking around the irises of the tallest among the group.

“This is no lie?”

“I would never lie to you.”

“Yes,” he breathed out, “I know.” He took a breath, feeling so embarrassingly out of character. It was then that he noticed the small insect that had been on Xiao this whole time. The trio had seemed to forget you sent them back with the dragonfly, but Zhongli knew. He sucked in a breath as he looked at it. “Take me to see her at once,” he commanded. Xiao wasted no time in teleporting all three of his companions to the edge of your barrier he had memorized the location of.

Zhongli’s hand was dropped by the Outworlder as he walked to the edge of it. He could sense the familiar power from years past and reached his hand up to place his palm on it. It bent with his palm like a bubble before it pushed through, rippling the distorted view of cloaked foliage behind it. He hesitated, but a slight push at his back had him walking in- well, stumbling in.

His face mirrored the Traveler’s when they had first seen the area behind the barrier. He could feel you everywhere and his body started moving before he could stop. Xiao and Traveler called after him as he took off into a sprint towards the house under the tree’s shadows. It felt like a ribbon had tied itself around his wrist and was yanking him forward. The dragonfly that had sat perched and patient on Xiao had taken off with Zhongli, acting as a guide as it flew in front of him.

“Take me to her,” he pleaded with the buzzing bug. “Like last time,” he remembered how a similar bug had led him to you that first time. He felt so vulnerable as he ran into the house, barging through the doors and dashing through halls with abandon. Zhongli felt mortal with his emotions controlling his actions and his desperation oozing out of his very core. He should be in better control of himself, but he can’t control his body no matter how much he tries. “Take me to her!”

The dragonfly had flown to a corridor that led into a vast open space. Stairs of three steps led out into an open garden with bushes, flowers, and carefully created paths to walk. It was a far cry from the overgrown, wild garden of the past. A stone canopy held up with four strong pillars covered the peaceful place from the sun and a small stone table sat among the paths intersection.

His breath was labored, chest heaving as the dragonfly continued out into the garden and his pace slowed down until the insect had taken a turn just outside the cover of the canopy. The dragonfly stopped, perching itself on an outstretched finger and Zhongli almost collapsed.

“Thank you,” you said to the dragonfly before it lifted off your finger and took off in a random direction, its job fulfilled. The sun bathed you in a golden light Zhongli could remember from eon’s ago and as he stared at you, a tear fell heavily and unstrained from his eye.

You weren’t sure what to say as you looked at him, but when you saw that tear fall you were ready to immediately apologzie. You never got the chance. Instead you were frozen in surprise when he had somehow appeared directly in front of you and encased you to himself.

Sealing his body to yours, his arm wrapped around your lower back and one of his hands pushed your head against his neck. His back curled inwards, bending you backward enough so that your back arched and he could form you to him even further. You were so warm and he felt himself choke as his nose took in your scent from atop your head. It was different from before, but he could still smell you in it- altered or not. It proved that you weren’t some fake, you were real.

Zhongli nuzzled into the top of your head, greedily taking in everything of you he could. You had placed your hands on his sides before sliding them up to his back. One of your hands snagged into the fabric of his coat and the other stayed wound around his back. He could feel you start to shake and he felt a bit better than he wasn’t the only one overly-emotional.

“You’re alive,” he whispers into your hair, voice cracking enough the wind could easily pick it up and take it somewhere far away. You just nodded into his chest as he somehow gripped you to him tighter, closer. “You’re alive,” he repeats like he’s trying to convince himself this isn’t a dream.

“Yes,” you sob. “Yes.”

As the two of you stood under the sun in a garden different from the one in his memories, he took no notice of the three other figures who had finally caught up to him after taking off on his own. Xiao felt a weight lift off his chest at seeing you two finally reunited and Traveler gently took his head in comfort. He had no chance to get embarrassed at the action, instead he just squeezed it back as he watched his long-seperated family cling to each other.

Xiao felt whole again for this one moment and he knew that you both did too.

“I’ve missed you so,” Zhongli confesses into your locks and you almost laugh if it wasn’t choked up on your dying sobs turned to sad sniffles. “Oh, how I’ve missed you.”

“I’m sorry,” you sniff as you let your arms slowly start to retract from him. He knew that things needed to be discussed and explanations needed to start somewhere, but he was reluctant to let go. His arms released you, but his palms were quick to gently cup your cheeks instead to tilt your face up to him. Your eyes were swollen and the whites of them irritated due to your tears. He looked no better.

Zhongli ran his gloved thumbs over your cheeks and across your eyes when you closed them when he got too close with his touch. He planted his feet between yours before pushing his forehead on yours and choosing to bask in your sun bathed body before anything close to closure ensues.

“Um,” you break the silence, but like last time, nothing else gets out before your interrupted.

“Call me by my name.”

“What?”

“My name,” he repeats. “Please.” He didn’t want to hear his mortal name or any of his other countless name and titles he’s collected over the years. No. His ears yearned for the name you knew him by. After all this time, he just wanted you to call him-

“Morax.”

Zhongli collapsed at last. His hands that cupped your cheeks dropped as did he. He came to his knees in front of you, his empty hands easily latching onto yours in lieu of your cheeks. His head hung as he sat- kneeled- at your feet. You shuffled in astonishment and shock as he took your hands and pushed them against his forehead pleadingly.

“Again.”

“Morax,” you whispered and he could hear the embarrassment in your tone. He chuckled as a shiver ran through his entire being.

“Once more.”

“You’re being spoiled.”

“I think I’m more than qualified.” He hears you chuckle and he could perish right here in this very instant without regret at the sound. It was just as he remembered.

“Morax.”

“This time,” he starts speaking as he feels you slowly start to join him on the ground. Your hands had twisted in his grasp to hold them back. “This time,” he starts again, “you’ll stay with me, won’t you?”

You pull both of your encased hands to your lips, kissing his gloves and he wishes he took them off. His wish must’ve been yours as well since you slowly started to remove his gloves and revealed the dark, golden imbedded skin he kept hidden to the public eye. Your eyes remained closed as you worked, like you had dreamed of doing this so many times you didn’t need your sight. Once again, you placed your lips on his knuckles and it was like his skin was alight with lava.

Reopening your eyes, you adjusted your hands so that your fingers were now interlaced, fingertips resting on top of each other’s hands as your palms were on the warm ground to lean closer to him. You push your forehead back against his, breathing in his air that became tangled with your own. Smiling so softly at him that he released one of your intertwined hands to push his fingers into your hair behind your ear and pull you even closer to him. He wondered if he could meld your very existence into his own and become the earth itself among the garden.

“I’ll stay until you don’t want me,” you declare.

“I’ll never not want you, my dear. We have too much time to make up for and many stories to share, should time continue to allow it.”

“Time is nothing but a concept to me now,” you chuckle bitterly. You would tell him about it all later, but now wasn’t the time. It would dampen the mood too bitterly for your tastes.

A contract was made under the sun behind a barrier that had kept you concealed and hidden from his faze. Your intertwined hands were the signatures finalizing that contract. Zhongli wasn’t ever going to let you slip through his fingers again- he promised himself that as he held tighter onto your warmth and you to his.

Zhongli couldn’t wait to finally give you the hairstick he had held onto for a millenia in your memory. Even more, he couldn’t wait to see it glimmer under your locks of hair since there was nothing and no one holding you back anymore.

a/n: pls god like/reblog/tell me your thoughts. this is babies first genshin fic and it's got so many words im so anxious i could throw up. i only edited this like one and a half times bc words became mushy and my eyeballs started melting. pls excuse the shift between past and present tense, my eyeballs - as aforementioned- are melting

if @scara7102 sees this it wouldn't let me tag you uh oh

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bootysnatcher401

1 year ago

the mashup

punkrocker!wriothesley x reader II 2.7k

warning: smut, 18+ content, minors do not interact, afab!reader with no set pronouns, music! au, modern au, punkrocker!wriothesley, r&b!singer!reader, semi-public sex, consensual filming, creamipes, fingering, riding, piercings, unedited

synopsis: your record label insists that the next phase of your career needs to require you to branch out to other genres and collaborate with an artist. After a long time of searching, to your surprise a punk rocker seems interested not only in the music, but yourself too.

Music is an avenue of expression, at least that’s what you always told yourself. You always felt yourself escaping into the vibrations and notes, amplifying your emotions and imagination as easily as putting two earbuds in.

There were many genres to which people escaped, and yours was the slow, sultry tones of R&B. With its elements of pop, gospel, blues, and jazz with a strong backbeat, you found yourself as one of the top performers in the genre. Your name was associated with the top streamers of Spotify and Apple Music. You even had trending songs on TikTok, people would dance or lip-sync too.

As a child, you never imagined the pitchy singing of your idols would bring you here among the hottest stars.

Despite the success, your record label was craving something different from you—eager to break into the “next phase of your career”, or so they say. They insisted you branch out into new genres and collaborate with some trending artists to give you a push towards winning a Grammy.

You were naturally hesitant, wanting to stay true to your craft and tune but their silvery words and promises of popularity caused your position to falter. Still, you wouldn’t just be collaborating with anyone your managers would send your way, you’d make sure of that.

The first one your label brought to your attention was Childe, a popular alternative singer from Russia. He was making waves in the Western market. His music was…alright and his personality was okay. Something about him irked you though, so you ended up passing on that opportunity to your label's dismay.

The second person they introduced you to was a pop singer by the name of Focalars. Furina was her real name though and she was as eccentric as ever. She was a bit vain and her slight condescension tried your patience a little too much, so you ended up passing on that opportunity as well.

Finally to your shock, a punk rocker reached out about a collaboration. No one would imagine R&B and Punk Rock could mess well, yet his label insisted otherwise. You recognized the name before, Wriothesley. He had been away from the spotlight for a while, only having small shows in London after an incident.

You heard he had punched out some hotshot producer for creeping on his subordinates at a party one night. Wriothesley ended up getting blacklisted for a while as a result. You weren’t sure why he was blacklisted, the creep Wriothesley punched out had it coming, but you knew the music industry was the music industry. Perhaps people were fearful that other cockroaches like that producer would get squashed by Wriothelesy as well.

Nevertheless, his label team things with your image and reputation could help mitigate his own in the community.

When you first met Wriothelsey was interesting as well. Your labels had just finished the contracts, agreeing to a collaboration between your team and his. He would be singing a cover of one of your popular songs; ”everyone loves a rock cover”, your manager said.

In addition, the two of you will be working on a new song for an upcoming film, your labels salivating at the thought of getting a Grammy and Oscar nomination.

Needing a break from the paperwork and discussing business, you headed out to the balcony to get some fresh air only to see him smoking there instead. His ears were decorated in silver piercings and a hoop loomed on his bottom lip. He took a drag out of his cigarette, letting the smoke blow out and dissipate in the cool air.

His eyes seemed tired, but his icy irises locked onto your own as he began to cough in surprise. He balled his fist up hitting his chest, to try to help him breathe as he tried to sputter apologies.

“Sorry there, I didn’t see you. I try to make it a habit for people not to catch me indulging in my vices,” he chuckled, still coughing from his surprise. You softly chuckled as well, walking up to him to admire the skyline. London was as gloomy as ever, and it seemed you would be remaining here for the time being.

“I didn’t think you were much of a smoker,” you hummed. The man playfully rolled his eyes, taking the cigarette out of his mouth and looking at it. His gaze seemed nostalgic admiring the soft ambers of one end of the rolled nicotine.

” It was a bit of a bad habit when I was younger. I usually just drink a cuppa’ whenever I get a craving but didn’t have an opportunity to so I caved,” he admitted. He threw the cigarette on the ground, stomping it out with his large black combat boots tied up in yellow and purple laces. You chuckled and nodded.

“I get it. No judgment here. Had to stop drinking coffee for a while. One day I drank about 4 drinks and could see my hand shaking when I was trying to write lyrics. Told myself to never get that far again,” you recalled. Wriothesley let out a hearty laugh at your story.

“See, we all got our vices,” he replied.

There was a soft pause between you two as you two looked at the towering buildings below you. The smell of rain on asphalt was prevalent. It must’ve been raining earlier when you were in your meeting, finalizing the collaboration.

“I’m curious, why did you specifically ask to collaborate with me? Your managers at the meeting informed me that it wasn’t just their idea but yours,” you asked. Wriothesley simply shrugged before lifting his arms nonchalantly as he placed his hands on his jet-black hair with gray streaks.

”I like your music, what can I say,” Wriothesley replied. You quirk your eyebrow in confusion. Why on earth would someone like him enjoy music from you? Wriothesley must’ve sensed your confusion before a lazy smirk made its way onto his pale face.

“What? Do you think I only listen to one specific genre? Should never judge a book by its cover” he murmured, tutting. You bit your lip, gaze darting from him in slight embarrassment. It was true. You didn’t only listen to R&B after all, you enjoyed a plethora of genres regardless of if it was the genre of music you made yourself.

”Besides, I see all the time people taking different genres and finding a way to mesh them together,” he added. Wriothesley moved so his back rested on the balcony as he crossed his arms and a more genuine smile fell.

“It would be an honor to do that with someone’s music I admire,” he finished.

Recording soon began after that. It was always interesting to see his fingers glide along his electric guitar, strumming and musing as if he were on another plane of existence. He would often flash you winks at these sessions. Banter turned to flirting to the point rumors began circulating in the office, but the two of you didn’t care. It was fun having him in your life and hard to fight off the smile whenever his callous hands would brush against yours when he got the chance.

A few months passed and it was finally time for the last recording session. As everyone left the studio for the night, you decided to stay back to fine-tune things on your end until you felt satisfied yourself. When you walked out, you noticed Wriothesley sitting on the couch. He was scrolling on his phone and looked up, hearing the heavy door of the recording studio open and close.

“Seems you finally got out. Took you long enough, love. I did want to celebrate with you,” he mused as he rose from the couch. You couldn’t fight the smile creeping on your lips seeing his presence right in front of you.

“Celebrate what exactly? Done being in this stuffy room together for now,” you retorted. Wriothesley simply smirked and shrugged.

“Perhaps I could take you to a pub and celebrate that way. Get a few drinks, I can show you the sights of London before you jet back to LA tomorrow,” he suggested. You took a sigh. You truly weren’t in the mood to socialize in a dark tavern tonight.

“I don’t know about that….Why? Are you trying to take me out on a date?” you chimed back. Wriothesley chuckled and walked closer to you.

”Maybe. Think I can be lucky enough?” he asks, hands reaching up for their chin. Your eyes widened slightly, shocked at his nonchalant confession before your expression softened. Your hands reach up, placing themselves on his firm chest.

“We can always celebrate here…too…y’know…” you suggested. Wriothesley expressions darkened, a grin forming on his face. His hand left your chin, making its way towards your waist to bring you in closer to him.

”Didn’t think someone with a reputation like yours would be so naughty,” he hummed, deep in your ear.

”Don’t judge a book by its cover, I think you were the one who said that, no?” you retorted.

Wriothesley leaned down, capturing your lips. His lips were sweet, tasting faintly of chapstick he must’ve applied earlier. His hands wandered up and down the curves of your body as the two of you made wait onto the couch.

As your form plopped down on the expensive leather couch, Wriothesley crawled on top of you. His hand cupped your clothed cunt, watching you grind onto his hand desperate to get any bit of friction you could. He sucked his caine as he smiled at the scene before letting his hand dip between the waistband on your pants and cup your now bare cunt.

“Already drooling for me…” he murmured, fondling your soft cunt. You rolled your hips, whining as his fingers brushed against your clit. Growing impatient, Wriothelesy, took his hand out before tugging on the waistband of your pants, bringing them and your panties down with it. Your bottoms were thrown aside on the rug, shielding itself from falling on the cool tile ground.

His icy eyes finally gazed at your cunt bare to him. He pressed his finger against one of your puffy folds, pushing it to the side to spread you out further and watching your hole convulse at the mere thought of having him inside of you.

Clicking his tongue is satisfaction, he slowly sinks his finger inside of you. You whined, feeling the cool touch of his silver rings decorating his fingers as he slowly pumped them. His other hand goes beneath your shirt, moving towards the valley of your breasts.

He grabbed a mound—rolling your pebbling nipple with the side of his thumb while his lips pressed against your neck—nipping and sucking the sensitive skin. His fingers curled as he continued to thrust while the calloused pad of his thumb massaged your clit.

You writhe under his touch, soft moans falling from your lips. He shifted, his hips slightly bucking as his own erection pressed in his tight pants satisfied by the music falling from your mouth. His fingers drilled inside of you faster as the sloshes and lewd noises of your cunt echoed in the room.

“That’s it…that’s it…you’re almost there, love. C’mon and give me a show,” Wriothesley grunted. A loud moan is ripped from you as you throw your head back. Your body twitched trying to come down from your high as Wriothesley whistled in amused, satisfied by the way your cunt squeezed and pulsated on his fingers. He dug his free hand into his jeans pockets, revealing his phone.

“Mind if I memorialize this,” he asked, flashing his phone to your tired gaze. You furrowed your eyebrows but whined feeling him pump his fingers slowly in your overly sensitive hole.

“...If you show anyone and I mean anyone, Wriothesley—” you threatened albeit agreed. Wriothesley chuckled, moving to click on the camera app.

“And risk losing a person like you? Never. Besides, I don’t like the idea of anyone else seeing you like this…whining and crying just on my fingers. Y’know if you made a face like that then I wonder how you’ll look with my cock inside of you, hm?”

Wriothesley began recording as he continued to slowly pump his fingers inside of you before slowly dipping them off. He chuckled, admiring his digits coated in your slick before smacking down your clit as you jolted. You scoffed and grabbed his phone, filming the camera in his direction.

”Well then why don’t you also give me a show,” you suggested, quirking an eyebrow up with an amused expression. Wriothesley chuckled and nodded. He slowly took his shirt off revealing his fit form, tattoos adorned his arms. His nipples were flushed and pierced as well.

”My eyes are up here, love,” he joked. You fought the urge to roll your eyes before you shifted the camera towards his crotch. He played with the waistband of his pants before slowly letting them fall, his cock immediately smacking to his lower stomach, pulsating eagerly.

He pumped his cock a few times, you could see precum budding at the tip along with his Prince Albert piercing. His moans are light and airy, clearly teasing you as you rub your thighs together.

He leaned over and claimed your lips as he grabbed the phone from you. His tongue dragged against your bottom lip as you moaned in the kiss. He shifted you on top of him so that he was lounging in the chair instead. You could feel how hard and thick he was as his cock pressed against your leg

”Well then, I can’t do all the work…Why don’t you go ahead and take a seat” he suggested, patting his upper thigh. You took their shirt off, hovering above their cock. You grabbed onto his member as Wriothesley sucked a breath in before you slowly sank down it.

As you slowly moved down on it, you could feel how much he was stretching you out. The dull burn as you inched closer was getting to you. Wriothesley offered a sympathetic smile reaching out with one hand to rub your clit to encourage you to sink down further. Although it was a tight fit, you eventually bottomed out. Your body shuttered feeling the foreign coolness of his piercing pressed against your gummy walls.

His hand eventually leaves your clit before trailing towards your thighs and resting on your ass, where he gives it a tender squeeze.

”Don’t keep me waiting, lovely,” he cooed. With a grunt, you slid up before sliding back down continuously, pressing your hands against his chest as you bounced on his cock. Wriothesley bit his lip, zooming in as he reached out to fondle your tits before drifting the camera back down to where his cock was disappearing inside of you.

He could feel how tight you were, etching him to reach deeper inside. He starts to thrust up causing you to moan. You weave your own hand down to play with your sensitive clit to get more friction.

Wriothesley clicked his tongue noticing, before throwing his phone on the ground without a care. His large palms grabbed onto the globes of your ass before his pace grew faster. You could barely think as he pistoned himself inside of you, legs quivering as you didn’t bounce on him anymore.

His cock continuously hit that sweet spot inside of you as you shifted and gyrated your hips— drool dripping from your lips. You rub tight circles on your clit faster.

“There! There! There!!” you yelped out. Your back arched, as your eyes rolled to the back of your head finally reaching your high. Wriothesley grunted nails harpooned in the plush of your ass as his lower half bucks up, spilling cum inside of you.

He continued to thrust inside of you, pushing it deeper while he groaned. Your voice quivered, feeling his warmth completely coat you as thick globs of cum smeared on your folds and thighs. You let your upper half lean down to rest as Wriothesley patted your ass gently, red from how tight he was clinging onto it.

His lips pressed against your shoulders for a tender kiss, heavy pants echoing in the recording studio.

“This’ll be a night to remember…” Wriothsley chuckled before kissing your sweaty forehead. His gaze softened at your tired panting one.

“I say it’s a good thing we will be working quite closely together for the upcoming year, wouldn’t you say, love?”

505 notes View Post

bootysnatcher401

10 months ago

Hi! I’ve been really enjoying your lads hcs, and I want to request where reader is an idol. Thank you and have a good day!

When You're An Idol- The Love And DeepSpace Men

parings in order: Xavier x Reader, Zayne x Reader, Rafayel x Reader, Sylus x Reader genre: fluff fluff a/n: hihi anonnie ! i'm happy to hear you're enjoying my works i hope this was okay ! ♡⸜(˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝ fun fact i used to be like a big kpop stan in like high school but now i just enjoy their music anyways okane kasegu watashi wa suta any likes and reblogs are always appreciated! enjoy!

⋆｡‧˚ʚ♡ɞ˚‧｡⋆

Hi! I’ve Been Really Enjoying Your Lads Hcs, And I Want To Request Where Reader Is An Idol. Thank You

Xavier:

Oh he's your biggest fan.

He'll have all your albums and photocards. He'll even have plushies and keychains of your character that you made for a collaboration event. He'll even have that keychain on his sword.

If you were in a group, he doesn't really recognize the other members there because to him you are the face of the group. You're the main visuals, dancer, vocalists, and rapper. His eyes are always placed on you.

He streams all your shows, music videos, fan cams, music, any minute and second he can. Any concept you had was his favorite concepts. He secretly saves some fan edits of you.

He in fact does get jealous when there's rumors about you having a dating rumor with another idol. You'll reassure him and you'll immediately deny the rumors are false to the public. They probably just caught you and Xavier on a date and assumed it was a different idol.

He's also very protective of you in public. He's basically like your bodyguard. He'll lead you away from any fans and paparazzi's when you both just want some alone time.

Zayne:

Just because you're an idol does not mean he's not your doctor. He STILL is and he insisted that it's beneficial for you that he's your doctor. And who are you to complain? With both your busy schedules, you two can catch up for a bit when you have a checkup. He will still scold you if you're neglecting your health and will tell your managers that it's doctors orders to not put you on a harsh diet or practice.

Y'know how surgeons listen to music while performing a surgery? Well he listens to your entire discography on LOOP while he performs a cardiac surgery. It helps him focus and you get more streams ! No one is allowed to change the music or complain. His colleagues would not have expected him to like your music so they just assume it's because your his patient and that's why he listens to your music.

Nobody knows that you two are dating so you keep your relationship private so no one can disturb your personal lives. He also just doesn't want to be in the spotlight in general.

He'll support you in any way he can. He's not really the type to go to concerts but for you he will. He'll even have his light stick and memorize the fan chants to your songs. If he can't attend your concerts because of work then he'll make sure to stream the live version ones.

He would also send you texts before you have any performances or interviews. He'll make sure to watch on his breaks to support you and will send you a text afterwards, saying how you did so well and he's proud of you.

He's probably also the type to send you flowers or have food delivered to you whenever you're working. It's to keep your relationship private but also a way to show that he loves and supports you.

Rafayel:

His artwork would make frequent features in your music videos which speculates some rumors about you two dating. And you two would make it so OBVIOUS. On both of your social medias, you two would post the same location at the same time. If you two posted a selfie, fans would see you two have matching jewelry or detect you wearing his clothes. He'll 'accidentally' take pictures of your merch in the background of his pics. Rafayel doesn't care if fans found out, I mean it's about time.

He would have a field day with your stylist if they dared to give you the worst outfit, makeup, hair color or style. He would want that stylist to be fired immediately and he'll style you himself.

He'd be so excited when you'd invite him to an event. You two would have matching outfits and you two would be the cutest and prettiest couple there. He's already used to the cameras, interviews, and the people there. It's like him going on an exhibition tour but this time it's more fun because he's with you by his side.

You two would have a lot of photoshoots together. But he just loves to be your personal photographer. He'll make sure to make his own photocard of himself so you can have it on the back of your phone case like how he has a photocard of you on his phone case.

Any of your shows that you have, he'll attend. He'll make sure to be front row and center so when you see him in the crowd, you can blow him a kiss.

Sylus:

Fans and paparazzi's would be so worried when they found out you were caught entering the N109 Zone. They thought you were getting kidnapped and they just thought the area was too dangerous for their beloved idol. You had to post on social media that you were okay so you and Sylus had to find a better way to meet up.

He would sing your songs in the karaoke room with Luke and Kieran. When you're there, you'll have a duo song or it'll get really competitive.

He also knows how to play the organ so if somehow you needed that instrumental you let him feature in it privately.

Sylus would buy a concert VIP room so he doesn't risk getting caught at your concert. He'll even bring Luke and Kieran because they're your second biggest fans there. He'll tell you which area he is in the concert venue and you'll make sure to look in that direction to acknowledge and appreciate that he's always there to try and support you. He would also have a massive smile on his face when you're performing. He loves to watch you perform and doing something you love.

You two are always facetiming whenever either of you are away. You both miss each others company a lot and can't go by a day without communicating even if it's just a small update.

If any fans tried to stalk you or make you uncomfortable just let him know and he'll take care of it himself.

1K notes View Post

bootysnatcher401

11 months ago

"𝐼 𝒸𝒶𝓃 𝓈𝑒𝑒 𝓇𝒾𝑔𝒽𝓉 𝓉𝒽𝓇𝑜𝓊𝑔𝒽 𝓎𝑜𝓊"

┗━━⊱ 𝑾𝒉𝒆𝒏 𝒚𝒐𝒖𝒓 𝒔𝒊𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒓 𝒕𝒓𝒊𝒆𝒔 𝒕𝒐 𝒓𝒖𝒊𝒏 𝒚𝒐𝒖𝒓 𝒈𝒖𝒚𝒔 𝒓𝒆𝒍𝒂𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏𝒔𝒉𝒊𝒑 𝒘𝒊𝒕𝒉 𝒇𝒂𝒃𝒓𝒊𝒄𝒂𝒕𝒆𝒅 𝒆𝒗𝒊𝒅𝒆𝒏𝒄𝒆 ⊰━━┛

⊱ 𝑰𝒏𝒄𝒍𝒖𝒅𝒆𝒔: 𝑺𝒂𝒕𝒐𝒓𝒖 𝑮𝒐𝒋𝒐, 𝑺𝒖𝒈𝒖𝒓𝒖 𝑮𝒆𝒕𝒐, 𝑲𝒆𝒏𝒕𝒐 𝑵𝒂𝒏𝒂𝒎𝒊, 𝑪𝒉𝒐𝒔𝒐 𝑲𝒂𝒎𝒐, 𝑻𝒐𝒋𝒊 𝑭𝒖𝒔𝒉𝒊𝒈𝒖𝒓𝒐, 𝑺𝒖𝒌𝒖𝒏𝒂 𝑹𝒚𝒐𝒎𝒆𝒏 ⊰

✩⁺₊✩☽⋆Warnings: Swearing ⋆☾✩⁺₊✩

𝑴𝒂𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒕

✿⋆·˚❀˚·⋆✿✿⋆·˚❀˚·⋆✿✿⋆·˚❀˚·⋆✿✿⋆·˚❀˚·⋆✿✿⋆·˚❀˚·⋆✿✿⋆·˚❀˚·⋆✿✿⋆·˚❀˚·⋆✿✿⋆·˚❀˚·⋆✿

𝑻𝒉𝒂𝒏𝒌 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒕𝒐 @𝒔𝒂𝒊𝒍𝒐𝒓𝒔𝒕𝒂𝒓9 𝒇𝒐𝒓 𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒔 𝒓𝒆𝒄𝒐𝒎𝒎𝒆𝒏𝒅𝒂𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏! 𝑰 𝒉𝒐𝒑𝒆 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒆𝒏𝒋𝒐𝒚 <3333

─═✧✧═─ 𝕊𝕒𝕥𝕠𝕣𝕦 𝔾𝕠𝕛𝕠 ─═✧✧═─

It had been an unusually quiet afternoon when your sister showed up at your apartment unannounced. You were out running errands, leaving Satoru alone at home. He was lounging on the couch, scrolling through his phone, when the doorbell rang. Expecting it to be you, he opened the door with a bright smile, only for it to falter slightly upon seeing your sister standing there.

"Satoru," she greeted, a hint of something unreadable in her eyes. "Can I come in? I need to talk to you about something important."

Though slightly wary, Satoru stepped aside, allowing her entry. She walked in, clutching a folder tightly against her chest. They settled in the living room, your sister on the edge of the couch and Satoru casually reclining in an armchair.

"What's this about?" Satoru asked, his tone polite but guarded.

Your sister took a deep breath, as if steeling herself for what she was about to do. "Satoru, I didn’t want to be the one to tell you this, but you deserve to know the truth about your wife."

His eyes narrowed slightly, a flicker of unease passing through them. "Go on," he said, gesturing for her to continue.

With a dramatic sigh, she opened the folder and pulled out a stack of photos and printed text messages. "I found these. I thought you should see them."

Satoru leaned forward, taking the photos from her. He began to flip through them, his expression shifting from curiosity to mild amusement. The photos showed you with another man, and the text messages painted a picture of a secret affair. However, Satoru immediately noticed the inconsistencies: the poor quality of the photoshopping, the time stamps that didn’t add up, and the way the text messages sounded nothing like you.

"Is this supposed to be evidence?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.

Your sister nodded earnestly. "Yes. I know it’s hard to believe, but Y/N has been cheating on you. I just thought you should know the truth before things got any worse."

Satoru couldn’t help but laugh out loud, shaking his head. "You’ve got to be kidding me."

She blinked, clearly taken aback by his reaction. "What do you mean? This is serious, Satoru!"

"Oh, I’m taking it seriously," he said, his tone suddenly sharp. "I’m seriously considering how someone could think I’d fall for such a poorly executed lie. Did you really think I wouldn’t notice the obvious signs of fakery?"

Your sister’s face turned red, a mix of embarrassment and frustration. "I just thought—"

"You thought wrong," Satoru interrupted, his voice firm. "I know my girl better than anyone. This? This is nothing but a desperate attempt to create doubt."

She opened her mouth to protest, but Satoru cut her off with a raised hand. "Look, I don’t know what your motives are, and frankly, I don’t care. What I do care about is your sister. And I trust her completely. So whatever you’re trying to pull here, it won’t work."

Standing up, he walked to the door and opened it. "I think it’s best if you leave now."

She hesitated for a moment, then stood up, her expression a mix of anger and defeat. "You’ll regret this, Satoru," she hissed before storming out.

Satoru closed the door behind her, letting out a sigh. He ran a hand through his hair, shaking his head in disbelief. He knew your sister had always been a bit jealous of your relationship, but this was a new low.

When you returned home a short while later, you immediately sensed that something was off. Satoru’s usual cheerful demeanor was slightly subdued, his smile not reaching his eyes.

"Hey, everything okay?" you asked, setting your bags down and walking over to him.

Satoru pulled you into a hug, holding you tightly. "Yeah, just had an interesting visit from your sister."

You pulled back slightly, looking up at him with concern. "What happened?"

He sighed, leading you to the couch. "She came over with some fake evidence, trying to convince me that you were cheating on me."

Your eyes widened in shock and anger. "What? Why would she do that?"

"I don’t know," Satoru said, gently cupping your face in his hands. "But what matters is that I didn’t believe her for a second. I trust you, princess. I love you more than anything, and nothing she could say or do would ever change that."

You nodded, feeling your heart swell with love. "Thank you for believing in me."

"Always," he whispered, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead. "I love you, baby girl, and I always will."

─═✧✧═─ 𝕊𝕦𝕘𝕦𝕣𝕦 𝔾𝕖𝕥𝕠 ─═✧✧═─

Suguru sat at a cozy corner table in a quaint café, his favorite book lying open in front of him. He glanced at his watch, noting that you should be arriving soon. The café, with its warm ambiance and the soft hum of conversations, was one of your favorite places to meet.

Just as he was about to take another sip of his green tea, the door swung open, and to his surprise, your sister walked in. She scanned the room until her eyes landed on Suguru. With a determined look, she walked over to his table.

"Suguru, do you have a moment?" she asked, her voice urgent.

Suguru raised an eyebrow, slightly puzzled. "Sure, have a seat. What's going on?"

She sat down quickly, pulled out her phone and began scrolling through it, finally landing on a series of photos and messages. She placed the phone on the table and pushed it towards Suguru. "Look at these."

Suguru picked up the phone and started scrolling through the images and messages. They depicted you with another man and conversations suggesting an affair. However, Suguru quickly noticed the watermark on the bottom of the text messages and the photos, making it clear that these were all fabricated.

He set the phone down and looked at your sister with a calm but firm expression. "Why are you showing me this?"

"Isn't it obvious?" she replied, her voice rising. "She’s been cheating on you, and you deserve to know!"

Suguru leaned back in his chair, his eyes never leaving her face. "Do you honestly expect me to believe this?"

"Why wouldn't you?" she shot back, frustration evident in her tone. "I’m trying to help you!"

Suguru sighed, shaking his head. "Help me, how? By giving false information to me?”

Your sister's face turned red, anger and embarrassment mixing in her expression. "I don’t know what you’re talking about," she muttered.

"I think you do," Suguru said softly, leaning forward. "You’ve always been a bit jealous of our relationship. But this… this is too far. I trust your sister completely. I know her, and I know she would never do something like this."

Tears of frustration welled up in your sister’s eyes. "You’re making a mistake, Suguru."

Suguru's eyes hardened, his voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. "Listen carefully. I don't take kindly to deceit, especially when it revolves around my partner. If you ever try something like this again, you'll regret it. Do you understand?"

Your sister recoiled slightly, fear flickering in her eyes. She nodded quickly, gathering her things and leaving the café without another word.

At that moment, you walked into the café, your face lighting up as you spotted Suguru. You waved, making your way over to the table. "Hey, what’s going on?" you asked, sensing the tension.

Suguru took your hand, pulling you into the seat your sister had vacated. “Nothing you need to worry about, my love~”

Your eyes flickered with concern, but you trusted Suguru implicitly. "Are you sure? You seem a bit tense."

He smiled, the warmth returning to his eyes. "Just a minor inconvenience. It's all sorted now."

You leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to his cheek. "Okay, as long as you're sure."

Suguru lifted your hand to his lips, pressing a gentle kiss to your knuckles. "I'm sure. Let's enjoy our time together."

You nodded, feeling a sense of peace settle over you. "I love you, Suguru."

"I love you too," he replied, his voice full of conviction. "And nothing will ever change that."

─═✧✧═─ 𝕂𝕖𝕟𝕥𝕠 ℕ𝕒𝕟𝕒𝕞𝕚 ─═✧✧═─

Kento Nanami was in the midst of a busy day at the office. Papers were scattered across his desk, and the hum of conversation and ringing phones filled the room. He glanced at the clock, noting it was almost time for his lunch break. He had planned to meet you at a nearby restaurant for a quick bite.

As he was about to leave, he received a call from the receptionist. "Mr. Nanami, there's someone here to see you. She says it's urgent."

Nanami frowned, slightly irritated by the interruption. "Send her up," he replied, deciding to deal with this quickly before meeting you.

A few minutes later, your sister walked into his office, looking visibly distressed. "Kento, I need to talk to you. It's about my sister," she said, her voice shaky.

Nanami motioned for her to sit down, his expression calm but inquisitive. "What's this about?" he asked, folding his hands on the desk.

She took a deep breath and pulled out a small box from her bag. "I found something, and I think you need to see it."

Nanami took the box, feeling a bit puzzled. He opened it to find a necklace he had given you, along with a letter. The letter was a handwritten note that appeared to be from you, detailing an affair with a colleague. His heart sank momentarily as he read the words, but he noticed subtle differences in the handwriting that didn’t match yours.

"Where did you get this?" he asked, his tone neutral but with an edge of suspicion.

"I found it in her things," she replied quickly.

Nanami leaned back in his chair, studying your sister intently. "You expect me to believe this because of a necklace and a note? Do you think I don’t know her handwriting?"

Your sister’s face flushed with embarrassment and frustration. "It’s not just that," she said, pulling out her phone. "I have texts, too."

She handed him her phone, showing a series of messages supposedly from you, confessing to an affair. Nanami read through them carefully, noting the odd phrasing and the timing that didn’t align with your usual schedule.

Nanami sighed, his expression darkening as he leaned forward, his voice dropping to a cold, intimidating tone. "I see right through you, you know. And frankly, I don’t like what I'm seeing. If you ever try something like this again, you'll regret it. Do you understand me?"

Her eyes widened in fear, and she nodded quickly. "W-What? I don’t–"

"I know what you’re trying to do.," Nanami interrupted, his gaze piercing. "But our relationship is built on trust. This—" he gestured to the box and the phone, "—won’t change that. Don't test me again."

She gathered her things and left the office, clearly shaken. Nanami took a deep breath, trying to dispel the frustration before heading to the restaurant. He knew you would be waiting for him, and he didn’t want to bring any negativity into your time together.

When he arrived, you were already seated, a bright smile lighting up your face as you spotted him. "Hey, how was your morning?" you asked, sensing a hint of tension in his demeanor.

Nanami took your hand, pulling you into a gentle kiss before sitting down. "It was... eventful," he began, his voice softening slightly.

Your eyes flickered with concern, but you trusted Nanami implicitly. "What happened? You seem a bit tense."

He sighed, squeezing your hand reassuringly. "Your sister came to my office today. She brought some... fabricated evidence, trying to convince me that you were cheating on me."

Nanami's expression softened as he looked into your eyes. "I saw right through it immediately. The handwriting didn't match, the texts were out of character for you, and the timing didn't add up. I confronted her and made it clear that if she ever tries something like this again, there will be serious consequences."

You smiled at him and kissed him on the lips. “I love you so much, do you know that?”

He smiled back, his eyes full of warmth and love. "I love you too. More than you can imagine."

You leaned in, resting your forehead against his. "Thank you for believing in me, Kento. I'm so sorry you had to deal with that."

“Ah, don’t worry about it, honey. It's done and over with now, and I know for sure it won’t happen again. So, lets just put it behind us for now and enjoy our lunch together, hm? We can go deal with your sister later.” He said, making you smile.

“Of course. There's nothing I would want more~”

─═✧✧═─ ℂ𝕙𝕠𝕤𝕠 𝕂𝕒𝕞𝕠 ─═✧✧═─

Choso was always a bit nervous at family gatherings, despite how much your family loved him. He often felt like he didn't quite belong, even though everyone went out of their way to make him feel welcome. Today was no different. The backyard was filled with the sound of laughter and the aroma of barbecue. He was standing near the grill, chatting with some of your relatives, when your sister approached him, a serious look on her face.

"Choso, can we talk in private?" she asked, her voice low.

Choso nodded, excusing himself from the conversation and following her to a quieter corner of the yard. "What's going on?" he asked, his brow furrowing with concern.

Your sister pulled out a small photo album from her bag. "I found something, and I thought you should see it."

Choso took the album, feeling a knot form in his stomach. He opened it and flipped through the pages. The album contained photos of you with another man, appearing close and affectionate. Some pages even had handwritten notes that hinted at an affair. Choso's heart clenched as he looked at them, but something felt off. The lighting in the photos was inconsistent, and the handwriting didn't match yours.

“Im sorry, Choso. You deserve better.” She spoke

Choso studied the photos and notes again, his suspicion growing. "I appreciate your concern, but I need to investigate this myself."

Your sister's face showed a flicker of irritation, but she quickly masked it with a worried look. "Why? Isn’t this proof enough for you? What more could you possibly need?!"

He ignored her, his mind already working to piece together the truth. "Give me a moment.," he said before walking away to find you.

He found you in the kitchen, helping to prepare some dishes. As soon as you saw him, you smiled brightly. "Hey, are you having a good time?"

Choso managed a small smile, but his mind was still racing. "Can we talk for a sec?"

Your smile faded slightly as you nodded, leading him to a more private area of the house. "What's wrong?"

He took a deep breath, pulling out the photo album. "Your sister gave me this. It suggests you're having an affair."

You looked at the album, shock and confusion clear on your face. "What? Let me see."

He handed you the album, watching your reaction closely. As you examined the photos and notes, your eyes widened in disbelief. "This isn't real. The photos are doctored, and this handwriting isn’t even mine."

Choso nodded, his initial suspicion confirmed. "I thought as much. The inconsistencies in the photos and the notes... it doesn't fit."

Your eyes filled with tears of frustration. "I can’t believe she would do this."

Choso wrapped his arms around you, pulling you close. "I trust you. I just wanted to make sure you knew what she was trying to do."

"Thank you for believing in me," you whispered against his chest.

He kissed the top of your head, his voice gentle but firm. "Always, baby. Our relationship is stronger than any lies she tries to spread."

You pulled back slightly, looking up at him with a grateful smile. "What should we do now?"

"We'll confront her together, later," Choso said. "For now, let’s enjoy the rest of the gathering. We won’t let her ruin our day."

As you returned to the gathering, hand in hand, Choso felt the need to love all over you. He constantly was giving you little kisses all over your face when he could. He stayed by your side the entire time, his presence a comforting reassurance. He helped you with the dishes, playfully splashing water on you and making you giggle. You fed each other bites of food, sharing secret smiles and stolen kisses. At one point, you found yourselves dancing to the music playing in the background, swaying together under the warm sunlight. Choso twirled you around, and you laughed, feeling happier than ever. The love and trust between you felt unbreakable, a fortress that no one could breach.

He squeezed your hand gently and whispered, "You know, you're the best thing that's ever happened to me."

Your heart melted at his words, and you leaned in to kiss his cheek. "And you're mine."

─═✧✧═─ 𝕋𝕠𝕛𝕚 𝔽𝕦𝕤𝕙𝕚𝕘𝕦𝕣𝕠 ─═✧✧═─

Toji Fushiguro was in the middle of an intense workout at the gym. The sound of weights clanking and people chatting filled the air, but he was focused on his routine. He enjoyed these moments of solitude and exertion, pushing his limits while thinking about you. Just as he was finishing a set, he noticed your sister entering the gym. She spotted him and made her way over, a determined look on her face.

"Hey Toji…got a second?" she asked, her tone serious.

Toji wiped the sweat from his brow and nodded, leading her to a quieter corner of the gym. "What's up?" he asked, slightly annoyed by the interruption.

She took a deep breath and pulled out a stack of printed papers from her bag. "I found something that you need to see. It's about her." she said, talking about you.

Toji raised an eyebrow but took the papers. He began to skim through them, his expression growing more serious. The papers were printed screenshots of messages, supposedly between you and another man, discussing intimate details and plans to meet. As he read, Toji's eyes narrowed. Something felt off—the language was formal, not at all like the way you talked, and the dates and times didn't align with your usual schedule.

"I knew she was unfaithful. She always gave me that vibe.” Your sister continued. Toji stared at the papers for a moment longer before crumpling them in his fist. "This is bullshit," he said bluntly. "I know her, and this isn't her."

Toji took a step closer to your sister, his eyes cold and hard. "Listen closely. I'm only giving you this warning because you're her sister. If you ever try to sabotage our relationship again, you'll wish you hadn't. I don't take kindly to deceit, and I won't hesitate to make you regret it. Do you understand me?"

Fear flickered in her eyes as she nodded quickly, not daring to say another word. She quickly gathered her things and left the gym, clearly shaken. Toji watched her go, his expression remaining stern until she was out of sight. He then took a deep breath, trying to dispel his anger before heading home. He knew you would be there, and he didn't want to bring any negativity into your time together.

Toji managed a small smile, though his mind was still on the earlier confrontation. "It was good. Feeling strong," he replied, walking over to you and wrapping his arms around your waist from behind. He pressed a gentle kiss to your neck, making you giggle.

"You seem a bit tense," you observed, turning to face him. "Everything okay?"

Toji nodded, his eyes softening as he looked at you. "Yeah, just had a bit of a situation at the gym, but it's taken care of."

You raised an eyebrow, curious but trusting his words. "Well, I'm glad it's all sorted out."

"Me too," he said, pulling you into a deeper kiss. "So what's for dinner?"

You smiled, looking up at him, "Your favorite—steak and roasted vegetables."

Toji's eyes lit up with genuine happiness, his lips trailing down your neck. "Sounds perfect, doll~."

─═✧✧═─ 𝕊𝕦𝕜𝕦𝕟𝕒 ℝ𝕪𝕠𝕞𝕖𝕟 ─═✧✧═─

Sukuna's palace was as grand and imposing as ever, with its vast halls and ornate decorations. The air was thick with a sense of power and mystery. Sukuna was in his private chamber, reviewing some ancient scrolls, when he noticed a commotion outside his door. Your sister was being escorted into the room, looking both nervous and determined.

"State your business," Sukuna demanded, his eyes narrowing as he observed her.

"I have something you need to see, my king," she said, her voice trembling slightly as she handed him a small, ornate box.

He didn’t even bother to look, he could tell what your sister was trying to do. He instantly burned them up

“W-What are you doing?!” She asked with widened eyes.

Sukuna stood up, towering over her. "You think I would be so easily deceived? Do you really believe I wouldn't recognize a poorly executed plan?" His voice was low and dangerous, sending a shiver down her spine.

She took a step back, her confidence quickly fading. "I...I–"

Sukuna's patience snapped. In an instant, he was in front of her, his hand around her throat, lifting her off the ground effortlessly. "You thought wrong. And now, you'll pay for your insolence."

Your sister's eyes widened in terror as she struggled to breathe, her hands clawing at his grip. "P-please... I won’t do it again..."

"You dare try to undermine my trust in her? You dare think you can deceive me?" His grip tightened, his eyes glowing with a murderous intent. "Know your place."

She gasped for air, tears streaming down her face. "I'm s-sorry... please..."

Sukuna sneered, his face inches from hers. "I should end you right here. But for her sake, I'll spare your pathetic life this once." He released her, letting her fall to the ground, coughing and gasping for breath. "But if you ever try something like this again, there will be no mercy."

Your sister scrambled to her feet, nodding frantically before fleeing the room. Sukuna watched her go, his expression remaining stern until she was out of sight. He then took a deep breath, calming himself before heading to find you.

When he found you, you were in one of the palace's beautiful gardens, tending to the flowers. As soon as you saw him, you smiled brightly. "Hey, how was your day?"

Sukuna managed a small smile, though his mind was still on the earlier confrontation. "Fine. What are you doing out here?” He asked

“Helping the flowers~” I say as I look back at all of the various flowers surrounding us.

Sukuna's eyes softened slightly as he watched you tend to the garden. "They look good," he remarked, stepping closer but keeping his distance.

"Thank you," you replied with a smile. "I thought it would be nice to have some fresh flowers for the palace."

He nodded, his gaze lingering on you for a moment.

You kissed his cheek before continuing your work. "So how was your day?"

"Fine," he replied, his voice steady and reserved.

You sensed there was more to it but decided not to press him. "Well, now that you’re here, shall we spend the rest of the evening together?"

Sukuna nodded, another small smile playing on his lips. "Yes, let's."

632 notes View Post

bootysnatcher401

1 year ago

some of y’all write so fucking well. i don’t read stuff that often but when i do it’s always such gems and it’s just amazing to me how fucking talented some of you are. it sparks a bit of jealousy in me because i want to be at that level but at the same times it’s like i have such admiration for you. i’m sorry about the tags i just can’t you guys to see this and know, y’all deserve so much praise.

112 notes View Post

bootysnatcher401

10 months ago

Modern AU! Diluc who starts making videos on social media to promote the Angel’s Share by showing how he makes drinks- only to take a wrong turn when the comments end up being down bad for him.

This video makes me thirsty, and Im not talking about the drink.

Pls handle me like the cocktail shaker 🙏

Suddenly I have the urge to cook and clean 🛐

In case anyone asks, the drink is blue.

The drink in the video was orange, by the way- he caught on the implication of the commenters distraction very quickly. And worst of all, his brother Kaeya laughing at the whole situation in the comments, not helping at all.

“Listen to this one ‘Luc: ‘Who needs a napkin when I could be cleaning his hands’, drooling emoji.”

Your poor husband, can’t even look you in the eye anymore. His fingers had been pinching the crease between his eyebrows for a while now, a little embarrassed at the totally different response than expected from his audience. He can't believe the viewers are more interested in his forearms than drink making.

“Y-You’re not helping, my love.” He says. He's frustrated at the comments, but can't help the blush when you say something so desperate. You feel a little bad for adding fuel to the fire (secretly giggling along with Kaeya), but it’s tough when you can’t deny the truth in the comments paired with your husband’s cute reaction.

“Perhaps you just need to cover up a little.” You suggest. Yes, he thinks. His next short video has him wearing his long sleeve dress shirt and gloves, instead of rolling up the sleeves. He's got them now, Diluc thinks as he hopes for normal comments.

However, the viewers are quick to find another way to "simp" for your husband (which you had to teach him the meaning of). With his arms covered now, some comments expressed their disappointment. But most focused their attention on the reveal of skin of his neck and the slightest view of his collarbone.

"It's no use." Diluc grumbles after a long day, his head resting on your stomach, defeated. You smile, bringing your hand to comb through his fiery red hair.

"I can't disagree, you do have nice hands." You tease, referring to the previous video's comments. Diluc looks up at you from your stomach with an annoyed expression. "You're too handsome, my love."

Diluc flushes pink when he hears your compliment. You say it quite often, but he'll never get tired of it.

He feels as if there's no solution to this. Wear his wedding ring? People would probably still focus more on his fingers, or create more down bad comments on being married to him. Bring you into the video? He absolutely does not want people to comment on you. Get his father to make the drink instead? No- he remembers the time his father was in two seconds of a past video and caught mortifying comments of the word "Zaddy" being spammed along with a timestamp. It was quickly deleted. He knows the pattern.

"So what will you do, my handsome husband?" You ask, interrupting his train of thought. You calling him handsome twice was enough for him to take a deep breath before composing himself to answer you.

"I'm too tired to handle this anymore." He sighs. "Maybe I'll give this job to Kaeya, offer him free drinks."

"Bold move, but I like it." You reply.

As for the results of Kaeya's efforts, let's just say that free drinks were not enough to help combat the thirsty comments. However, the Angel's Share social media continued to rise in popularity.

521 notes View Post

bootysnatcher401

1 year ago

‧₊˚.𖧧. BEING A STREAMER!

including! — (in order) xiao, hu tao, albedo, kazuha, childe <3

genre/warnings! — fluff, streamer! au, ooc childe SHUT UP its canon to me, they’re all so in love it’s sickening, dedicated to [ @starglitterz ] !!! if you don’t know my darling quill actually has an ongoing series surround streamer!xiao SO IF YOU’RE INTERESTED here is her [ masterlist! ], based off personal opinions of who i can actually picture streaming!

༉‧₊˚. SYNOPSIS! — what they’re like as streamers + being in a relationship with them <3

:: XIAO! ♥︎

gaming streamer!

genuinely very dedicated to his gaming, he can get into storylines but prefers combat & action-adventure over anything

though when he’s not up to fight, he enjoys chill idle games where he’s really just talking with his chat <3

he’s not the most talkative unless the gameplay calls for it, but everyone just enjoys watching him play because of how absorbed he gets

━━━━ IN A RELATIONSHIP :

his chat will never not make fun of him when you’re on screen

it starts as him just immediately muttering “intermission.” into his mic and switching to his idle screen whenever you enter

then one time he fatefully forgets to mute his mic and boom! the jig’s up, they all know how in love he is behind the scenes

the way he blushes and practically forgets he’s on camera as he loses himself focusing on you; they’re spamming emotes and the like labeling him a simp

he glances directly at his face cam, clutches his headset’s mic and says “not a word.” in the most intimidating voice he can muster, but how is he meant to intimidate his chat when they’ve already seen how soft he is?

and if you’re playing the games with him !!! absolutely forget about it he’s done for

even if you’ve got no idea what’s going on, he’s happy to teach you (which he’d never admit on stream though everyone already knows)

he loves how you interact with his community, you giggling and reading out comments that he in turn gets to quietly answer with you, a small loving smile never leaving as his eyes roam his monitors

in conclusion, you two are very cute <3

:: HU TAO! ♥︎

gaming streamer!

very lively all the time !!! her streams are more experiences then anything

also a fan of combat, but horror & thriller games are undoubtedly her favorites

she doesn’t scream or get scared, but everyone else does and that’s what makes it fun for her >:D

━━━━ IN A RELATIONSHIP :

no one can tease her because she’s too busy teasing you</3

“my my, look at you! strolling into my office all cute like this while i’m streaming, are you trying to seduce me?”

whenever she sees the door behind her creak open through her face cam she beams, awaiting the small “…are you streaming?” you always ask for confirmation when you enter

rapid comments immediately pour in the chat, all of them containing strings of your name and various exclamations of excitement

she loves you, so of course her chat has to as well

ushering you in, she pauses whatever’s displayed on her stream and immediately asks if you wanna stay, chat continuing to go insane about the the possibility of them getting multiplayer content that’s always the cutest

whether or not you wanna play is up to you, of course, but she’ll definitely ask you to come on stream and play with her at least once, even if you’re basically just watching !!!

her mods usually have to remind her she’s on camera so she doesn’t completely lose it and end up kissing you right there

even if you’re just bringing her something, the few seconds you’re in the back and she gets to rewatch and see you wave at the camera or smile or laugh, they’re always her favorite clips

“that’s my love, always stealing the spotlight from me.”

:: ALBEDO! ♥︎

artist & gaming streamer!

his streams are the ones that people always say they fall asleep to, in a comforting way of course <3

he’s so calm all the time, and his viewers just love to relax & vibe with him

the times he does play games, they’re always rpgs or open world exploration! he adores being able to just roam around in a game and go on about the beauty of it all

━━━━ IN A RELATIONSHIP :

by far the most flustered by you being on stream with him

he doesn’t mean to be, he usually just isn’t prepared for you to make an appearance at all

his most clipped stream is one titled “just sketching :)” where he’s sharing his screen as he draws someone, an unidentifiable person (so he thinks), and someone donates with the message “is that your partner?”

his eyes go wide in realization and he immediately switches screens, saying nothing and opting to switch to gaming

he puts chat on emote only mode whenever you’re on because he thinks he might pass out if he’s teased, and it always explodes with his custom love emote (he draws them himself)

“you can’t keep flustering me on stream like this…” he mutters to you as quietly as he can, the softening of his quizzical eyes intimately drawing you in

you grin, brushing a strand that’d been tugged from his braid behind his ear and cupping his cheek. you tease, “my apologies, mr. kreideprinz.”

enunciating your chide with a quick tap to his nose, you leave him be, knowing he’d come find you later after the camera’s off. he clears his throat, readjusting his pen and removing the “intermission” screen from his stream

“was that them?” he reads a comment aloud, locking his jaw and looking down to hide his growing smile

“of course it was.”

:: KAZUHA! ♥︎

reading/writing & gaming streamer!

there’s a bit of music sprinkled in there as well, but his main three topics are usually above

his streams are also ones people fall asleep to… unless he’s gaming. then no one is truly safe

his closeted chaotic nature falls forward as he begins gaming, especially if there’s high stakes or fear factors involved

━━━━ IN A RELATIONSHIP :

he always becomes even more soft spoken when he’s discussing you, as if you might shatter should he talk about you too rashly

his chat loves when you’re brought up cause he gets all smiley, even if he’s raging because of minecraft spiders

“i dare say you all like them more than me.” he laughs as a donation that’d asked about when you’d be joining him on stream again disappears

there’s one time he’s writing a haiku, his chat just as stumped as he is as he struggles to conjure up a last line, and you enter. a mug full of tea, freshly brewed with all your care

you remain at the side of the camera, only your hands dipping in to hand him the mug. he looks to you, a ghost of a “thank you” slipping from his lips as you dip down and kiss his hair

series of “IS THAT THEM?” and “AWWWW” range through his chat displayed on the side, and they all swear he’s never looked happier

he’ll never object to you joining him on stream! he has so much fun when you play games with him, laughing as he finds you getting frustrated on the same levels he was previously losing his mind over

keeping his light way of speech even when he’s playing almost never happens, and while it might be shocking for some, it’s nice to be able to see this side of him that before was only shared with you, now with a whole community <3

:: CHILDE! ♥︎

gaming, lifestyle, and …everything streamer!

he can truly get away with anything, and it’s awful

the type to be dragged into doing outlandishly long streams because of a bet he lost with his chat

a certified whale for any games that involve paid features (don’t let him anywhere near genshin dear god)

━━━━ IN A RELATIONSHIP :

like a puppy whenever you come on camera

he gets so happy when you’re on with him !!! smiling with his teeth all throughout the stream, leaning towards your ear to flirt within his whispers (which everyone most definitely heard)

“are you gonna come stream with me?” he gasps when you walk into the room, the freckles amongst his cheeks igniting with the small blush he sports

he’s so in love with you that his chat is too

“childe, is your s/o single?” is said in a donation, to which he sarcastically clicks his tongue and replies “i think they’re taken and i’m so mad about it, they’re so fine—”

whenever he holds polls as to what games he should play, horror is always the winner (because they all know he can’t handle it)

and so whenever it gets too scary for him, he calls out for you and asks you to stay with him for moral support </3

has kissed you on stream before and will do it again. sometimes the comments get too comfy for his liking and he has to remind both them and himself that he’s yours

no matter what it is he’s doing, he already loves what he does! it’s just the tiniest bit more fun when it’s with you :D

thank you so much for reading !!! stay safe & ily <3

1K notes View Post

bootysnatcher401

1 year ago

『♡』 In the Ring

♡ featuring: boxer!wriothesley x manager!reader

♡ summary: its hard managing a boxer full time. maybe it's time you relieve that stress. wc: 6.8k+ (???>":>?)

♡ cw/tw: mentions of trauma, mentions of violence, rough sex, overstim, face-sitting, size kink, unintentional edging, hair pulling, mentions of choking, argument, confessed feelings, slow burn, kinda toxic?

notes: can u tell how down bad i am for wriothesley. also do yall like the smaller text cause I do. jing yuan fluff next :)) art by sxnalien on twitter! <3 comments and reblogs are appreciated!

For a second, the crowd stills. Bright intense lamps illuminate the sweltering squared circle, buoyant under the nimble movement of the boxers. They trade blows, bobbing and throwing each devastating hook with an even deadlier counter. No one took a hit for the past minutes, and the audience scoots to the edge of their seats at the sheer stamina of the two. Both dripping sweat, barely holding on between the merciless clock and their steadfast opponent. You can almost hear the breeze of swift jabs cutting wind against their jaws. The one with blue gloves can barely manage to guard himself, with a swollen face and wobbly legs, while the crimson gloves deal relentless punches. The crowd shouts. Unintelligible echoes, some that pray for the win, others grieving the money they’re about to lose. He’s caught on the ropes, and attempts a wild swing to save himself, to save his career. Red gloves weaves effortlessly and delivers a brutal crush to his bloodied nose and possibly busted mouthpiece. The crack is resounding, it makes the commentators cringe. His skull flies back, and he comes crashing down from his dizzying tower. The head-first fall vibrates beneath the feet of investors in proximity.

DING DING DING

Mass uproar ensues. They jump out of their seats, flailing their arms, joy and pain in equilibrium.

“And he is out! It’s all over!” the commentator yells. Confetti floats golden dust from the ceiling. The victor stalks the ropes before hopping on them, his gloves raised in the air. Glistening, high off elation, but somehow composed in his attitude, akin to a wolf.

“A savage knockout from the untouchable world champion, the king of the ring, Wriooothesley!”

“Wrio, Wrio, Wrio!” they chant. You’re standing near the ropes, already identifying which joints you’ll need to observe after his victory lap. It’s hectic, and you’re jotting down the state of his figure. Past experiences sew through each deep scar carving his rugged biceps and abs, the bruises display early signs of discoloration. He’s tall on the unseen throne, it feels like you’re there with him. A million eyes in that vast stadium, and yet, those midwinter eyes ebbed in silver only look at you.

Your beginnings as a manager were tumultuous. You could barely comprehend how out of your league you were working for a renowned agency fresh out of college. Though you found quick success in your ability to grab the attention of investors through public relations, you weren’t equipped just yet with the hindsight in preparing for scandals. The other athletes you worked with served no problem, and so you never had to worry about their appeal. Higher ups praised your extensive portfolio, and at such a young age, it was even more commendable. You earned it, fame and respect, interviews and gossip—a delicate dance. You were always busy, assisting your clients throughout the day and maintaining their presence while they slept. It was hard work, but you loved doing it.

That was until you worked with amateur boxer, Childe.

A snappy, overconfident lightweight fighter with no regard for anything or anyone. He had an unmistakable void in his eyes, but you fought for him ceaselessly, to prove that he wasn’t the cold person he portrayed himself as. You bore with his flirtatious compliments and innuendos, the need to focus him whenever you documented his afflictions, and he’d not-so-subtly flex his biceps. Childe was unnecessarily violent with underhanded tactics. The media knew this and did everything to amplify that bellicose story. You’d combat it, negate it, but he only fed the flames with threats of retaliation. Taking his phone wasn’t enough, and you couldn’t get through to him. It was only a matter of time before he went off the deep end.

The day you slept, you discovered a restlessness you’d endure indefinitely. The flickering glow of your device woke you at midnight as hundreds of notifications congested your screen. 128 missed calls from your agency, 50 from news sources, and none from Childe. When you processed the damage from his deplorable stunt, you nearly hurled your phone out the window. He posted revenge porn, and evidently turned off his phone. Surely, there’d be a way to fix this. The chances seemed to dissolve with each text turning green. You started pacing, battling with morality and loyalty and anger. What he did was disgusting, but it’s your job to save him, right? Is he worth saving? You spoke with 4 managers at once, switching through motives and bickering until morning. As you flipped through the television, another emotion struck you.

There he was, on a tasteless gossip channel. An interview you didn’t arrange, with a man you’ve never seen before. And he was...crying? The sob story emitting from his deceitful lips was almost impressive. Childe went on about how “demanding and horrible” you were backstage. The crocodile tears dried up through dodgy anecdotes, but it was enough to have people hooked. You were allegedly physically and emotionally abusive. He was too scared to speak up due to your position and he just couldn’t bear it any longer. Then he dropped the bomb; he blamed you for his post. You forced him to do it, jealous of his previous partners, emphasizing how enamored you were of him. The questionable tears began to fall again, but this time he covered his mouth, withholding the duping smile crawling on his face.

You were filled with blinding rage, unable to control the fury at which your remote connected with the screen. It was everywhere now, social media websites booming with live opinions. He had no reason to slander you, and you couldn’t pinpoint why he chose to hurt you like this. You cried for him, shared stories of childhood and family. The knife you used to protect him was firm in your back, twisting and digging with each disgusting message in your inbox. You had no game plan to conduct, and no tears left to cry.

Within a week, you finally understood how cruel this industry could be. Within a week, you were no longer on top. You lost clients fast. It spread like wildfire and not a single outlet spared an ear for your side. People you called friends, coworkers, hadn’t replied to your messages. When you got back to work, the rooms were silent as you passed. You could feel their judgement, whispers rattled with rumors and accusations. They waited for the tiniest slip-up and pounced like hyenas—you were eaten alive by their pitiful stares. You attempted to tell your truth multiple times throughout the week, but it was consistently rejected. The headlines were eye-catching:

“Manager From Hell: Childe Tells All!”

“He Cries: A Story of Love and Jealousy”

Your stomach churned to the magazines being shown. Despite the great amount of loss you suffered, you were thankful for the one person that believed you, your boss.

“Childe is a lying little snake. The media knows that, too.”

“Then why is this happening?”

“Money. That story is making bank right now. But I know for a fact you wouldn’t do this” he reassured.

“Thank you, sir. But...I lost everything; I just don’t know what to do.” The weariness was heavy in your voice.

“I have someone you can manage. It won’t be easy, but if anyone can do it, it’s you.” You were unsure of yourself now, and he continued.

“You’re one of my best. If you want to climb out of this, now’s your chance.” Yes, you were unsure, drowning in doubt. But if the only way to get above water was to keep swimming, you wouldn’t give up so easily.

Wriothesley wasn’t exactly known for his kindness. Crude, cocky, maybe even spoiled were descriptions that circulated in the tabloids. He had a knack for pissing reporters off by not answering questions or humming over their voice with a shit-eating grin on his face. Women loved him, however, throwing bras and phone numbers written on scrap as the condemned “bad boy” departed post-game. They screamed his name at once, and he’d done nothing to deserve it. He relished infamy—that way, it was much harder to pry into his private life.

It had to be a coincidence that it was someone you fangirled over. In college, your eyes were glued to the screen every Sunday, waiting for Wriothesely’s post-conference and behind the scenes interviews. He didn’t speak often, but just the sight of those inky strands streaked with ash made your heart flutter featherlight in your chest.

When you first approached him, he was just as arrogant as you’d expect.

“Good evening!” you beamed. You caught him outside the gym, and he still had his headphones in. Full volume and blankly staring as you went on about the opportunity, silent under the blaring music. He took one earbud out when you finished.

“Hm? Who’re you?”

You were slightly annoyed. “Let me reintroduce myself, I’m (Y/N). Your new manager.”

“No. Bye.” He began to walk past you without an ounce of care. You couldn’t lose it like this.

“Ah, wait!” He turned half-heartedly.

“Listen, I get it. You don’t want to be bossed around. But honestly, your reputation is shit. That can’t be good for business.” you persuaded. He towered over you, the figure of a Greek giant peeked through the compression top as he lazily watched you.

“So? Why do you care?” he remarked.

“I’ll help you. Sponsors, advertisements, whatever you want. You’re good, but you can be so much better. Let’s make money together.” You held your hand out, awaiting a handshake of approval. He merely glanced at your limp wrist.

“Help? You’re obviously not doing this for free.”

“Of course not. Give a little, take a little. I don’t do charity cases” you shrugged.

He groaned, raking his fingers through his thick mane. At the very least, he hadn’t walked away yet. “I'd prefer for my life to be private.”

“Then I’ll guarantee your privacy.”

“Really?” he scoffed. “What can you give me besides empty promises?”

“Anything you desire. Work with me, and I’ll make it happen.” That offer enticed him. No one had been this persistent with him yet, he scared off any manager that dared succor him. It was slightly entertaining, the way you burned ambition in your eyes, you were so easy to read. Most people wouldn’t look directly at him, and here you were, ready to follow him home if that’s what it took. He chuckled, and his massive hand reached for yours.

You shook hands, and your fates were sealed.

That was a year ago, and ever since then he’s been a thorn in your side. Nonstop drama and rectifying consumed your life. You didn’t think a man who spoke so little in public could talk so much around you. Whenever you argue—which is a frequent occurrence—his smirk grew wider at your frustration. You weren’t sure why you ever liked him in the first place. He only puts in effort when it comes to sparring, but you’re determined to ameliorate his standing, and in turn, yours.

The minute you open the doors to the hall, the sound of pummeled sandbags, clanking metal, and sneakers skidding across the floor roars in your ears. Some men are dialed in on abusing the inanimate objects, the rest tense through repetitions of dumbbell curls with a hiss. You're in quick strides, the phone arm's length away from you as the sponsor on the other end screams. Another petty drama surrounding Wriothesley grabs the attention of the internet. Luckily, you have thorough experience remedying this.

“What are you going to do? You’re fucking with my money!” you hear the faint voice. You bring the phone back to your ear.

“Don’t I always deal with it? He fights, I make up for the other half. Give me a few hours.”

“I’m not going to wa-” You hang up at the response.

You propel the double doors free into a large room with a boxing ring in the center. A group of trainers swarm the perimeter, you can barely see through.

“Don’t be scared!” one of them taunt towards the sparring partner, who has an unthinkable panic creeping in goosebumps dotting his skin. Each sloppy dodge tilts him more and more off balance against the strikes. Wriothesley has a powerful stature, with his back curving in a way that accentuates the rough muscle shaping his spine. You drone an annoyed sigh at the commotion and push yourself through them.

“Move it, move!” you yell, before jostling your way to the front of the ring.

“Wriothesley! Times up.” He turns his head to the side, unintentionally sparing his partner and glares at you.

“Two minutes.”

“No. Now.” you command. He looks up at nothing, as if considering his options if he cusses you out. Then he begrudgingly drops the gloves and pulls himself under the ropes. The group disperses from the lack of action and he’s mere inches from you now. Sometimes you forget how to breathe in his half-naked presence.

“What the fuck is your problem?” He mumbles while drying his head with a towel. His colossal forearms are raised over his head, highlighting the happy trail thick down his abdomen and tufts of hair on his armpits.

“You. How many times do I have to tell you not to train during recovery?” you seethe.

“Damn. Must’ve slipped my mind.” He doesn’t sound convincing in the slightest.

“Well then, I’ll be sure to remind you hourly.”

“Nah, I’m good. Hearing you once a day is enough.” He tosses the towel to you like his dutiful servant and grabs his water bottle. The liquid drips down his chin and on his shorts, hanging below his v-line.

Your eyebrow twitches from withheld vexation. “If you don’t want to hear me twice, I suggest you do what I tell you. We need to talk.” A heavy sigh leaves him as he stretches, and he passes you the water bottle. If you had the strength to collapse the bottle with one hand, you would. “Lead the way” he goads.

Wriothesley follows you through the backdoor of the gym to a secluded alleyway. When you get there, he immediately pulls out a cigarette you didn’t know he had. You were aware he smokes occasionally, but seeing it physically coaxed a strange worry in your gut. You twist your phone to him, to display evidence of him instigating an argument with Childe on social media. He reads in silence, briefly laughing at the recollection of his own comebacks, then lights the cigarette.

“What’s this? Didn’t I say keep a low profile?” you reprimand.

He drags in a deep breath of nicotine, and you eye the foul scent with distaste. He blows it above your unhappy face. “Calm down. Once a month thing. That fucker's testing me.”

“This can’t happen again, Wriothesley.” He ignores you to continue his mumbling. “I should break his neck like a twig. He’s lucky he didn’t say that shit to my face, fucking punk.” he grouses. You're struggling to gather your thoughts, the cigarette compacted between his thick fingers irritates you.

“We all appreciate your restraint, however-” you get closer, and yank the stick out his hand.

“No-!” Before he can finish, you promptly smudge it underneath your shoe. You aren’t sure how he’d react, but you didn’t expect him to sulk like a puppy.

“You aren’t doing this shit while I’m here.”

“Oh my god” he pouts, throwing his hands into his face and pulling them down.

“You’re lucky I don’t report it to the doctor. None of this, ever again.”

“Fuck, alright just...” he lets out a defeated sigh. “What do you want me to do about it? Apologize publicly?” You need him to do nothing; neither agency wants controversy, and it’d most likely be swept under the rug in just a couple days. You point his water bottle to him.

“Nope, I’ll handle it. Just sit there and be pretty.” you reassure. He leans down to your height with a sweet smile and even sweeter gaze.

“I do that well, don’t I?” he quips.

“You manage.” He latches onto the water bottle, and drinks from it in your hand while looking at you. A soft heat envelops you beyond words that never reach your lips.

“Listen to what I’m saying. Low. Profile.” Wriothesley comes up from thirst, dragging his tongue along the straw to the top, and licks his blushed lips. He delights in your flustered reaction.

“Low. Profile.” he repeats in a sarcastic drawl.

Later in the week, you receive a call in your office. It was fairly busy today, with coworkers constantly “checking in”, more so to see Wriothesley sitting across from you. He had no reason to be here, and you were surprised at his arrival. Be it boredom or a certain longing, a dull swell pulsed in his chest once he saw your overworked smile.

“Hello, this is (Y/N) of Boxe Association. May I know who I’m speaking with?” Wriothesley’s ears perk up at your sudden professionalism, and he mimics your cadence.

“Good afternoon, it’s Isadora.” Isadora was an event coordinator you previously worked with before your controversy. You understood that she stopped communicating to protect her business, but the pain lingered. You twirl the phone cord around your fingers, and meet eyes with Wriothesley, who’s laid back in the chair, his arms behind his head.

“Oh. Hey, it’s been a while.” you say. You turn your swivel chair away from him to continue the conversation. His eyebrow twitches slightly with an unconscious scowl, and he walks towards your chair.

“It has. I’m calling because I have a proposition that might interest you. I believe a meet and greet would be appropriate for your client. A large chunk of his fanbase are young adult women, however, he’s also popular with children.” He spins the chair around with a firm hand and presses his cheek against the phone.

“That’s true.” You side eye him, and without skipping a beat, mush his nosey face away. His hot breath on your digits makes your skin tingle.

“Who is that” he mumbles. You'd never seen Wriothesley interact with children, and you have every reason to be hesitant.

“Hmm...any positive activity with children is good publicity. I’ll consider it. I’ll let you know by tonight.” The second you hang up, you release his face.

“Why are you being annoying-”

“Who were you talking to” he chides.

“Isadora. She’s an event coordinator.” His clenched jaw unwinds. “She wants to do a meet and greet with you and a few kids. If we go through with this, I’ll have a camera crew and some reporters there. It’ll be good for your image.”

“Okay.” he agrees. That was quick.

“...Are you sure? Kids are loud and obnoxious a lot of the time.”

“So? Fine by me. I can teach them how to fight.” Your skin crawls at the thought of Wriothesley launching a child through a wall. “That won’t be necessary.”

“It’ll be fun.” The more he assures you, the more uneasy you feel.

“Wriothesley, I’m serious. Don’t screw this up” you plead. He holds his pinky out. “I won't.” His loose interpretation of promises was dubious at best, but you had no other options, and this might be your only opening. You curl to his word.

After parleying the finer details, you broadcast a raffle for young fans to meet Wriothesley. The traffic to the website was overwhelming, and you quickly began sorting out tickets for the favored winners.

Fortunately, the next couple of weeks were par for the course.

It’s the night before the event, and you’re getting ready for bed. You sit at your desk in a big T-shirt and do your daily review of personal data. As you're scrolling through and identifying what needs improvement, you get a notification on your phone.

“Breaking News: Boxer Bar Fight!” Curious, you open the tab to a video. It makes your breath stall, sweating frantically. You can’t think clearly, and your shaky hands can barely increase the volume. Unidentifiable noises and wobbly camerawork made it impossible to catch anything besides those familiar inky black strands, throwing punches in a drunken stupor at a defenseless man. Your previous conundrum flashes through your memory in a horrific stop-motion; the duping smile on his face.

No. It’s happening all over again. Why is he at a bar? You messaged him before he went to bed. He never goes to bars. Why now, the night before the event? It’s late, he doesn’t go anywhere without telling you.

He promised.

None of it made sense as you threw on any sweatpants in your drawer and ran out the door. You can’t wait until morning. Disaster punctures and tears any rational decision you contemplate. Shouting silently within your mind, a crashing rage—or sadness—boils in your nervous stomach. You’re tunnel vision in a taxi on the way to his address.

When you get there, you bang on the door with a fury that vibrates throughout the archway. His home is extravagant, with two cars and an expansive driveway. You bang again.

“Wriothesley!” He finally opens the door. He’s still half asleep, pajama pants low on his waist, groggily leaning against the arch.

“(Y/N)? Uh, what’s up?” He slurs in a deep slumbering voice through heavy eyelids. You barge in without saying anything. “Make yourself at home, I guess.”

The interior is just as opulent as the exterior, it almost looks untouched. Every corner has a case or shelf stacked with ornate trophies and medals of excellence. It was the home of someone who achieved peak perfection and reveled in it. He follows you to his living room, bewildered at your furious expression. You play the video in front of him, and he watches with that same puzzled attitude that makes you angrier. You try taking deep breaths to compose yourself, but they halt shallowly.

“What the fuck is this?” you accuse.

“What? I don’t know.” “Like hell you don’t know, this shit is on every homepage. Are you serious?”

The cranky boxer pinches the bridge of his nose and sighs. You show up at his house, and it’s to badger him about a rumor. Your temperament only heats the smoldering ember fueled by incessant claims. He covers his mouth, physically stopping the involuntary response.

“Okay” he says, and blurts a facetious chuckle. Your heart thumps in your chest and ears.

“Oh, It’s a fucking joke? I bust my ass to save your career and you’re laughing?” you snap, voice increasing in volume until it reaches a broken peak. He returns with the same energy.

“When did I ask you to fix anything? Did you ever think that maybe I don’t fucking need you-”

“You can barely control your smoking habits you pompous ass-”

“I would if you didn’t nag me all the time. Whining and complaining, it’s fucking annoying!” he yells. Neither of you meant the words spilling out the bubbling surface, but your tongues were solely seasoned with the next spiteful jab.

“Yes, whining! Because all you need to do is be on the straight and narrow, but you take nothing seriously, Wriothesley, and that’s exactly why-”

“Exactly why what? Why your career went to shit so you’re piggybacking off mine?”

Your battle stops. You can’t find the words to rebuttal. All the opinions of your colleagues, the media, Wriothesley, and yourself coagulate into a lump that fills the tightening throat. Pride comforts tears brimming your eyes.

He pauses, as though he came to reality. An apology attempts to form on his lips, but it never manifests. “(Y/N), I didn’t-”

“See you in the morning” you choked. You walk to the door, and he reaches out to the infinite space thick between you two.

You didn’t sleep the entire night. It’s morning, and you’re exhausted. You consistently replayed the quarrel in your head through the taxi ride home, and when you strived for rest, it plagued your mind. Your coffee is untouched during your morning routine, a movement comparable to zombies. You don’t bother to confirm if Wriothesely is at the building—either way you owe it to the event holders to be there.

You arrive just before the children file into the training room. Thankfully, Wriothesley is there in the center. Live cameras from reporters and parents border the walls; if something were to occur, it would be irreversible. Your head suddenly hurts.

Perhaps playing it up for his reputation, the smile stretched across his face is a sunny warmth you’ve never seen from him. He waves to them, and they erupt with screams. To your astonishment, he gets on his knees to be eye level with them. They all jump into his arms at once, and he topples over onto the mat.

And he’s laughing. This grumpy asshole fighter is laughing. A hearty, genuine laugh as he wraps his sturdy arms around all of them and picks them up at once. He whirls them around and they orchestrate high-pitched giggles. “Ready to have some fun?” he chortles. They say yes to varying degrees of excitement, and the meet and greet proceeds.

You can’t help but smile when he frolics with the kids. They chase him with boxing gloves, he pretends to fall dramatically. Dogpiling him, he lets out a shrill scream of defeat. He manages to work in proper defense techniques while they jump him like a test dummy. He tosses each kid in the air whenever they ask, and never tells them no. You receive another call from Isadora amid your admiration, and you step outside.

“Hey! Good news, these views are off the charts and the internet is really in his favor right now” she congratulates.

“That’s great...what about the video from last night? Did you see it?” you ask.

“Video...oh, that! Don’t worry, it’s confirmed fake.” What? Oh no. Immediate regret stirs in your blood, and you force the phone away to catch your breath. You feel utterly stupid.

“Hello?” You quickly bring the phone back to your ear. “Yea, sorry. I have to go; I’ll call you later.” you insist. You can’t facepalm any harder. You make your way back to the training room, where the kids decorate his gloves with iridescent stickers. Wriothesley occasionally looks at you, but you can’t bear to show your guilty face.

When the event is over, you both make sure to hug every child on the way out and thank the parent for coming. You’re sorting through mountains of requests people made to see Wriothesley again, and you mute your phone over the influx of emails. Peeking at the broadcast, under the footage in bold letters:

“(Y/N) Back from the Dead?”

It wasn’t the most flattering title, but it proved that public perception was salvageable. You emit a sigh of relief, for you and Wriothesley. As you’re packing your things to exit, he blocks the door with his body.

“Can we talk?” You were dreading this discussion, but agreed, nonetheless. The ride to his home is silent, you grapple with a proper apology.

You lean against the kitchen bar, while he’s laxing on the couch. Sleep deprivation torments you, causes you to wander as you fill in papers from sponsors. You can’t see the way Wriothesley steals glances at your slack figure curving to the marble. He eventually spoke.

“So, um.”

“I’m sorry, I forgot to tell you. You did a good job today Wriothesley, you should be proud.” You flash a meek smile. He fumbles with his thumbs uncomfortably.

“I am. Aren’t I the best?” he boasts.

“You are” you say. The lack of sleep beckons you to a spur of honesty as you scribble. “You have stunning form, perfect accuracy, and immeasurable talent. Not just anyone can do that.” you return. He gazes at you, that dull swell pumping in his veins again. The cozy radiance of lights brightens your tired eyes.

“You’re a big fan, huh?” he chuckles.

“Of course, I used to watch you in college. I had a major crush on you” you snort. “Everything you are is amazing, but you know this. So cut it out.” He sits on the armrest, swallowing your confessions. The room is entirely too hot, he needs alleviation—he needs you.

“Sorry. For what I said.”

“Forget it. It's my fault, I was careless. I apologize.” you admit.

“You know I didn’t do it, right?”

“I know.”

“I didn’t.”

“I know.” you reassure.

“What if some other bullshit controversy comes out. Then what?” You stop writing to give him your full attention.

“Then, I’ll trust you. We’ve gotten this far. Even if no one else does, even if for some reason I lose my job and I’m not your manager anymore, I’ll trust you, Wriothesley.” you reveal. He doesn’t move. Wriothesley knew he wasn’t deserving of trust, and he’d made a plethora of mistakes throughout your arrangement. You had every right to leave him long ago. Nobody gave him the time of day or cared for his wellbeing like you did, but he couldn’t reciprocate. Even so, here he kneels, at the feet of an angel that shows him undying mercy.

Wriothesley stalks at you, but you remain. He looms over you, pinning you to the counter with both arms, inches from your face. It isn’t a threatening force, but one that begs for confirmation. That slated storm searches for a specific craving, you feel his chest rising and falling laden with yours.

“You’re too close” you quiver. The bitter musk and vanilla enveloping your senses makes you foggy, it lingers through the whole house.

“Tell me to leave.” His mouth slants to you, and he waits expectingly. You ogle his features, the scratches of a warrior celebrated across his hardy torso. His hair brushes against your forehead, imperfect and uniquely beautiful. Why were you mad, again?

“Tell me to back off, (Y/N)” he pleads. The pads of your fingers lightly caress his ear, then his jaw.

“Please” he whispers. Your thumb grazes his bottom lip, and he succumbs to the urge.

You collide fervently, lips coated in definitive desire. Dancing with rough, bruising kisses that don’t make space for air. It smears on your face, dips down your neck and swiftly returns to your lonely mouth. The pressure of the counter bar burns across your lower back from his weight, but those mind-numbing kisses soften any injury. You bite his lip when he pulls away, and he groans. Suddenly, he lifts you effortlessly with his hands on your ass, and you clash teeth and tongue in a passionate challenge. He demands entry, and you moan into the wet mass intertwining through sloppy kisses. It explores your mouth, sending throbs to your nerves and subdues any control you have left. Your arms are wrapped around his neck, but you yearn for deeper contact. He licks up the organ, and spots moist, hungry kisses on your jaw. You both take a fleeting breath before converging again. You find passage in his hair and suck staining rose-colored marks on his neck while he carries you to the bedroom.

“You’ve been waiting for this, hm? Slutty groupie” Wriothesley moans. You drag kisses along the shell of his ear. He tosses you onto the fluffy bedding and haphazardly strips to his underwear. The wide mirror opposite his bed gives you a glimpse of his thighs and shapely bottom hugging the briefs. You’re supposed to be undressing, but that thronging bulge made for a titan makes you nervous for what’s to come. He palms the erection to soothe the ache and climbs over you. He’s somewhat gentle, careful with the bulk of his body as he cradles your face for more kisses. The way he looks at you, a covet softness or misted lust tantalizing the wetness pooling in your panties. He moves to your neck, French kissing down your throat and on your collarbone. You feel like a virgin again, heart racing from every graze of his fingers and lips. His calloused digits grope the plush fat of your thighs, and gradually reach the hem of your skirt. You snake your hands over his pecs and abs and read the muscles. Moaning into each other's mouths, indulging every part of your bodies as you’ve wanted to do for months. He pulls your skirt off and you hold your button-down over your exposed panties. Heat spreads in your body, and he amuses at your sudden bashfulness.

“Oh…you’re shy?” he teases, before popping the buttons off with a brutal rip. “Wrio!” you yelp. That’s the first time you called Wriothesley a nickname; he must’ve died and went to heaven. The lace gift wrapped around your breasts taunts him, and he buries his face immediately. He nips the sensitive skin and snaps the clasp off. “Cute. Need to feel you” he husks. He twirls the bud in his mouth, while manipulating the other between his girthy fingers. Alternating among loving hickies and harsh tugs of his teeth on your nipple. You whine, and his laugh tickles your raw skin. He flips over on his back and steadies you on top of him. Discards the rest of your top, and let’s out a shaky groan.

“You’ve never been this speechless” he says. You smile and kiss his puffy lips, your hands kneading his chest. “You’re so pretty” you coo. He huffs while rubbing circles on your waist, eyeing your inner thighs covered in juices.

“Then come fuck my pretty face.” He slips under the waistband and tweaks the fabric, but you grip his wrists. “Wait! Let me shower first- “

“You said you'd give me anything I desire, remember that? Keep your promise." He yanks the thin material down your legs in your weak clutches, trailing a string of drool that sticks to your labia. “C’mere” he grunts and lifts you towards his face. Your thighs are soft on either side of him, and you still in his grasp. He lolls his tongue out, but you’re reluctant to fully sit. “I’m heavy” you murmur.

“Shut up.” He embraces your body, and you have no choice but to settle in his warmth. He keeps you flush with his flat tongue, swiping up and down the squishy flesh molding to his mouth. You writhe in his grasp, but he continues to lap at your clit with a starving lust. Wriothesely soaks in your velvet skin and perfumed essence dribbling down his chin. He doesn’t come up for air, and your brain is mush over him, his lips slurping your quivering cunt. A buzzing intensity courses through your twitching stomach. You rut your hips against his mouth, and he maintains his position while you use him. You’re grinding on his tongue, absent-mindedly biting your lips and mewling endlessly as you bring yourself closer to climax. He hums while sucking the nub and the vibrations make you cry out.

“Wrio, ‘m coming” you whine. You hump his mouth until you come undone in a pulsating finish. His hands restrain you, greedily devouring the newly found honey as it pours out. You ride it through while he curls the tip of his tongue at your opening. Without warning, you feel the pink muscle push in your recovering vulva. “S-Shit, Wrio” you whimper, trembling on him as he drives inside. He seizes the back of your thighs and begins to bounce you up and down the mushy appendage slowly stretching you. The sensation is overwhelming, his nose skims your oversensitive clit each time you drop, and you sob. Wriothesley moves faster, your hands entangle in his hair. You babble please’s repeatedly, gazing sensually at each other as the coil winds in your gut. More, more. Then it snaps, an abrupt shock, clenching on his tongue as you cream. He raises your lower half; the wetness collecting in your convulsing heat makes his cock strain more than it already suffered.

“Such a cute slut” Wriothesley husks. Your numb legs can’t navigate on their own, so he places you on your stomach. “We’re not done.” He springs his throbbing length free. The veins are consistent, prominent up his shaft to the angry red crown—9 inches begging to be inside you. Fresh precome trickles down his tip and he sighs at the bloated pain in his hefty balls. You arch your back, presenting yourself to his awaiting size. When he doesn’t enter you turn to him impatiently and he smirks.

“Put it in” you whine. Wriothesley spreads your backside, and watches you clench around the ghost of him. He glazes himself with your slick, and moans from the feeling of your puffy lips cuddling his cock. “It’s not every day a fan gets to sleep with me. Be grateful.” he teases. He pumps through your squashed thighs, the head prodding your nub while he forces your chest flush with the bed. After he thoroughly coats himself, he nudges the bulbous tip to your entrance.

Wriothesley sinks into your sex. You’re gripping him like a vice despite the searing soreness of your body accommodating the scale. The fevered sleeve nearly makes him crash to the hilt, but he stutters gradually to relieve your discomfort. He hits the base and shudders. You feel unbelievably stuffed, as if it’s squirming in your cervix. Then he starts at a savage pace. He’s using you like a flesh-light, balls smacking your overwhelmed tender nub with a carnal impulse. His moans spill uncontrollably as he watches your rippling ass and viscous webs blend together, clinging to his cock and forming a cloudy froth at the base. Your knuckles turn white on the sheets; you can’t think or feel anything that isn’t him, core surging with intense want.

“Fuck, you’re so tight, gonna snap my dick off. Ah- gonna make sure you can’t walk t-tomorrow. Then- hah- then you won’t be able to find anyone who fucks you like this, who makes you come like this.” He’s rambling and stuttering, completely incoherent the closer he gets. He glances at the mirror, then at you. You feel your hair jerked back by his massive hand, and lock eyes with Wriothesley in his drunken haze. “Stop, it’s embarrassing!” you slur. You’re both sheened with sweat, disheveled bodies satiating the hunger in any way you can.

“Shh, you hear that?” The squelching slam of passion echoes in the room, sopping down your leg through his pummeling thrusts. Your back bends unnaturally as though it were folded in half. “You’re so fucking hot, so needy for me.” His veins adorn your walls, you start to tear up from the mixture of pleasure and pain. He notices your tears and holds you up so that your back is flush with his chest.

“It hurts?” he questions, stalling his movement. You feel him twitch. “No, feels s’good Wrio. More” you mewl. He chuckles, and gently wraps his hand around your throat before pumping again.

“Too good? Am I the best you’ve ever had? Say it.” He moves faster, free hand rubbing your clit. Your knees buckle and eyes roll back to your skull, he takes in the scene of your convulsing figure in the mirror. “S’best I’ve ever had, please ‘m so close!” you rasp, matching the rhythm of his thrusts. He chases his high, panting animalistically in your ear.

“Shit- look how desperate you are. Want me to come inside? Y-yea, I bet you fucking do”

“‘M coming!” you babble.

“Good. Make a mess.” he commands. Fire trails up your limbs, and you tighten before falling apart. Fluttering around him, taking him deeper while you come on his sack. Wriothesley pursues his sputtering hips, spurting thick globs that paint you white. He whimpers as you milk his spasming length dry and presses tired kisses along your shoulder blade. When he comes down from his apex, he turns you over on your back. It’s hard for him to not be proud of your boneless existence sprawled on his bed. You’re both breathing hard in silence, and he leaves for a couple minutes. You’re stunned when he returns with a damp rag to clean you up, and some dark substance in a mug.

You find the strength to sit up while he wipes your lower areas. “Where are my clothes?”

“...For what?” he mumbles.

“To leave?” It seemed like common sense to you—boxers usually don’t go for long-term relationships, and so you assumed it to be a one-night stand. You dip over the edge of the bed and locate your skirt, but Wriothesely hops up and snatches it before you can. “I’ll put it in the wash. Relax.”

“I didn’t know you were so hospitable. Do you do this for every girl?” you tease. He gets visibly upset, and shoves the cup from the dresser in your hands. “Don’t piss me off. Now, drink. I’ll order food.”

Multicolored sunset flaking through the sheer curtains frames his stature while he’s on the phone. You sip the tea, it’s a vile grainy taste. For a moment you imagine what life could be like with him by your side—poor quality tea and an awful temper. In your pleasant aftermath, it doesn’t seem bad at all.

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