Akiren, Goro With A Short Girlfriend

⭐ 🎈 & 🤖 🍬 Drew some Scrunkies in rblx today bcs them <3

ive been thinking of them lately…

you let out an audible groan after you see dan heng peel another orange for you, "dan heng, please. please tell me how you peel the oranges without getting splashed with orange juice," you pleaded, leaning your head on the man's shoulder as you wrap your arms around him.

the express was quiet tonight. everyone was asleep, and it was just you and dan heng lurking in the kitchen for the night. you woke him up because you were bored and needed someone to talk to. at first, you felt a little guilty for your abrupt arrival, but dan heng reassured you that he was not asleep (even though he yawned and rubbed his eyes when you woke him up).

dan heng only shakes his head, continuing to peel the orange, "you need to be quieter."

you only huff in response, throwing your head closer to the nape of his neck, "c'mon! please? i need to know how you do it! if i don't, i'll just keep getting juice in my eyes," you urged.

he chuckled in response, and he even sounded relaxed, for a change, "that wouldn't have happened if you hadn't ripped the orange out of my hand mid-peel."

your eyes bulged and dan heng could not resist the smile forming on his lips, "first of all, i did not rip it out. i grabbed it. second, i wanted some autonomy for a change!"

dan heng playfully rolled his eyes, "if your autonomy means juice getting splattered all over the kitchen, then i suppose it's a good idea to keep this orange out of your reach," his sarcasm prevailed.

you huff, leaning your head into dan heng’s neck. then, you get an idea. your arms⎯once wrapped around his shoulders⎯made their way around his neck. your fingertips led to the beginning of his chest, and you had to stand on your tiptoes to progress a little lower.

you feel dan heng tense up at the contact, and you wonder if you've taken it too far. you're about to remove your body from his, but you feel his muscles relax. you find that, when dan heng relaxes, it's like his entire body turns to mush. he's easier to scare, easier to prod at, easier to touch; you know this because of your observations, and most definitely not because you willingly choose to notice these things.

"what are you doing?" dan heng turns his head to meet your grinning face. his eyebrow is quirked up in the same inquisitive way it always is. the sight makes you beam even further, and you swear you could see dan heng turn a little red.

"i'm cold," you simply say, pressing yourself closer onto him, "is this... okay?"

dan heng stares at you. he looks into your eyes with nothing but admiration. he stares at you like you are his definition of beauty: of all the things he has seen whilst traveling on the express, it seems that his eyes are only truly mesmerized when they land on you. you are the one for him, his eyes describe.

alas, you are too preoccupied with other things to think about this. as dan heng tries to formulate his answer, your hands reach down to his and snatch the orange out of his hands, jumping back and hitting one of the countertops by accident. you wince, but shortly get over the pain after seeing the orange in your hand.

dan heng stares at you in momentary shock. at first, he tries to process what just happened. did you touch him to feel him, or only to get the orange? did you mean it? was it worth it? his mind spiraled with questions similar to those.

however, his worries were set aside when he saw you narrow your eyes, waiting for him to make a move. and he realizes that everything is going to be okay. there’s no worry around you; there’s never been.

the dim light of the kitchen can only illuminate so much. dan heng is grateful that you couldn’t see the way his previous expression melted away. he takes two strides towards you and you’re already backed into the counter. you prop yourself up, holding the orange close to you, as dan heng comes closer.

“you’re going to make a mess,” dan heng advises you. he sounds like a nagging husband. you let yourself be amused with the comparison at first, but then the implication of your thought kicks in, and you find yourself subconsciously inching away from dan heng. he only comes closer, almost making his way between your thighs.

“am not,” you hide the orange behind your back, “and if you want it, come and get it,” you prompt with a smirk.

dan heng’s eyes narrow: not in an annoyed way, but rather, in a challenging way. his arm slinks behind your back and tries to reach your hand, but you throw your arm in the air. you hold the orange up in the air for a while, moving your arm in all sorts of different directions while dan heng tries to grab it. the dim kitchen is lit up by your conjoined laughters.

when you try to take the orange with your other hand, dan heng’s hand interlocks with yours midair, keeping it in place. with your temporal shock, dan heng manages to grab your wrist that holds the orange, trapping you in his grasp.

you blink down at him several times, wondering how he’s managed to get you in this position. the orange was still in your hands. you could choose to hold it tenderly, or drop it to the ground. there were more oranges anyway.

“can i have the orange back?” dan heng asks, looking up at you in such a way that could rival a star’s glow.

you take a second to answer his question. now you can look at him: finally look at him. his hair, though tussled and messy, falls into his face in perfect waves. he is as tranquil as the ocean itself, but he still has rough currents.

his eyes are never wary around you. they are calm and peaceful, always gazing at you in the quietest ways.

did his lips always look so soft? or were you just imagining things?

you lower the orange down with your hand, and dan heng removes his hands from yours. you take your other freed hand and bring it over to cover the orange, in case it falls. when your covered hand meet’s dan heng’s open one, you look up at him with mischief in your eyes.

the hand once covered the orange moved to peel off a piece of skin. but, since you never knew how to peel oranges, your peeling method was disastrous: juice squirted out of the orange, and it landed perfectly under dan heng’s eye.

you snickered a little bit, then you began to laugh a little more loudly than permitted. dan heng was left with a deadpan expression, no longer in shock or disbelief. in hindsight, he should have known there was something like this coming. but what can he say; he loves you too much.

“i’m sorry!” you say in between laughs, your hand (the same one that got orange juice on his face) covered your mouth as you laughed. “i’m sorry,” you giggled.

“what did i tell you? i hope you know you’re gonna be cleaning⎯” dan heng is distracted by your thumb making contact under his eye, where the juice was sprayed. he’s stunned momentarily, eyes watching your thumb carefully as you wipe the juice off his face.

with the excess juice on your thumb, you do something so provocative that dan heng is eternally grateful for the dim lighting. you take your thumb and put it in your mouth, sucking the juice off your finger. the sight makes his eye twitch a little, only amusing you further.

you cover your next laugh with the paper towel that you use to wipe off your finger, “i’ll clean up the orange juice,” you tell him, sliding off the counter, “but isn’t this just more proof that you need to teach me how to peel oranges?”

“i think this is more proof that oranges need to be taken away from you,” dan heng counters, bemusement evident in his tone. he faces away from you now, trying to fight his blush from earlier (and now).

you gasp, “but isn’t this just a good way to teach me?! i just wanna peel my own oranges, man. what if you’re not here and i’m stuck orangeless! i don’t even wanna think about⎯mmph!?”

dan heng sticks an orange slice into your mouth.

he tries to ignore how you had just said that you’d be sad without him, even if you were probably referring to the oranges.

dan heng puts his fist up to his mouth, trying his best to contain his own laughter at your puzzled face. you chew and swallow the orange, only to look at him with bewilderment.

“what was that for!?”

“you were talking too much,” he shrugs. you kick his shin.

on the kitchen island, you see that one side of the orange hasn’t been fully peeled like the other. one side⎯the side you just ate⎯had no white strings on it. it was a perfectly naked orange.

the other side had lots of white string. this was also the side that sprayed dan heng.

while you may not know much about peeling oranges, you know how to remove string. you grab the orange once again, this time peeling the white string off of the orange fruit. you’re extremely focused, and dan heng thought you couldn’t get any cuter. how marvelous it must feel to fall drunker and drunker in love with you every minute.

when you get rid of the excess string, you look up at dan heng with hopeful eyes. you’re showing him what you just did; you’re expecting something. dan heng goes to open his mouth to say something, but he’s interrupted by an orange slice colliding with his mouth.

“not so nice when it’s you, huh?” you poke his chest, grabbing a slice of orange for yourself. you two chew in silence as you both finish off an orange slice.

“you do realize you could have used a slice from the half that didn’t have any white stuff, right?” dan heng tells you after he finishes eating. you set the orange on the counter as you wipe your hands off.

“yeah, but i wanted to do more work,” for you. you wanted to do more work for dan heng. you didn’t want him to always peel oranges for you. you wanted him to take a break. to relax. to enjoy himself for once in his life. even if it was a little thing such as peeling the white strings off of an orange, you hope that you can bring him the tranquility he never had before.

but little do you know, dan heng has been doing the opposite thing for you. he peels oranges so you don’t have to; because he doesn’t want you to work so much. he peels oranges to make life easier for you, because he knows how you get during the night. he peels oranges when you cannot, so you know that you always have someone there to guide you to the light.

dan heng is speechless. he only stares at your smile, completely different from earlier in the night. it’s toned down, more quiet, more sincere. you look up at him with anticipation lurking within you. you look up at him with enthusiasm and excitement and stars. it was criminally easy: how dan heng was able to love you.

but he couldn’t tell you. not yet, anyway.

“you’d stop peeling after the second orange,” dan heng jokes, poking your cheek. you puff them up in an attempt to shake his finger off, but he still stayed. you unpuffed your cheeks and rolled your eyes.

“i would not,” you cross your arms and stick your tongue out at him, “you know what, i think i’ll ask mr. yang to teach me. then i’ll be a real peeler master.”

a selfish part of dan heng wants to stop you and teach you himself. a selfish part of him only wants you to himself. it seemed stupid and moronic to consider mr. yang as some sort of rival, but he couldn’t ignore the way his heart stopped at the mention of someone else. maybe it was because that meant these nights between the two of you would be over.

but with the smirk you give him after your sentence, dan heng knows these nights will be far from over. he leans onto the counter with one hand propping him up.

“if you say so. i can’t wait for the day to arrive,” dan heng says, sarcasm dripping from his tone.

he hopes the day that you learn how to peel your own oranges, never shows up.

WHERE CRIMSON MET IVORY.

a kaedehara kazuha x gn!reader oneshot.

SUMMARY    ▏he was crimson, you were ivory, and you never had looked good in red.

WARNINGS   ▏angst; major character death; mentions of violence; death; blood; swords / blades.

WORD COUNT   ▏1.8k words, 10.2k characters

AUTHOR’S NOTE   ▏introductory oneshot to tumblr!! how r we feeling >:D also it had to be angst, sorry i think. i specialise in this shit

Kaedehara Kazuha was no stranger to the colour red.

Red surfaced in the scarlet tint of his clothing, the soft blend of sunset and evening sky, the streak that shot through his hair. It reminded him of the bright glow of pyro visions, autumn leaves flitting about the wind, the dark passion that came to life in battle. Red was love; red was hate; red was something fierce and bold.

Red was the vividness of his eyes, red was the paleness of his lips, red was the flush to his skin. In a way, he was red as well, with his hair and eyes and clothing. You glance at him and your vision would flood with red. But there was something else, too—a kind of red embodied something both beautiful and gruesome. An elixir of life.

Crimson was also the colour of blood.

Blood, the essence of the living and the liquid of the dead. It flowed through the veins of humans, monsters, gods, and nearly every living being on Teyvat was powered by red.

And as Kazuha is to red, you were to ivory.

To you, ivory was fallen snow gracing the peaks of high mountains; it was the delicate petals of cecilias, where white descended into pale green before reaching the gentle, green stem. Ivory was the seafoam that washed ashore when cerulean waves would visit land, the shine of smooth marble, the quiet wishes whispered to the wind and lost to the loud whistling in your ears. You saw ivory in the sun, the moon, the stars; the clouds that drifted lazily along the high breezes.

Ivory was something born anew, a life blooming into existence. And you, with your tendency to be much too kind for your own good and an air of purity and kindness, were ivory.

And that was the thing. That was how it had always been. You had always been ivory; he had always been crimson. That was how it was meant to be.

So why were you choking on red?

Keep reading

COULDA, SHOULDA, WOULDA, DIDN'T.

➳ synopsis: aventurine has never lost. that's what he tells people when he makes bets and in passing conversation about gambling. but every night when he lays in bed, he will always think about the day he lost you.

➳ character/s: aventurine

➳ warnings: 2.1 spoilers, aventurine backstory spoilers, aventurine real name spoilers, death, slavery (it's not romanticised, you're safe-), mentions of torture, hurt/no comfort, aventurine with some passive suicidal ideation, mention of family, mention of marriage

➳ word count: 0.8k

➳ notes: i wrote that concept for the people and myself because i need to practice fics again ._. it's not really the best i think i could've done, but it's something. also wrote this to 'i found' by amber run so take that how you will LOL

𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐫𝐮𝐥𝐞𝐬 / 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭  / 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐬 / 𝐰𝐢𝐩 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

his reflection disgusts him. each time he gazes into his hideous eyes and catches a glance at the branding on his neck, a shiver runs up his spine and rage bubbles in his chest. aventurine finds himself avoiding mirrors as often as possible nowadays. sometimes when he runs his fingertips over the branding, he can still feel the searing pain and his own screams in his eardrums. when he dresses and undresses himself each morning and night, he swears he can feel the sting of knives against his once soft skin, free of lacerations that struggled to heal for months.

sometimes, he thinks he can feel your warm breath on his neck as you lay on cold concrete. truthfully, that may be the only time he's ever felt warmth; within your arms and blanketed with an unspoken oath to stay together as long as life allows.

the security underneath the duvet that covers his bed feels uncomfortable. aventurine would never admit that he suffers from a severe case of imposter syndrome when it comes to his safety on occasion. he knows he has himself and himself only to credit for his freedom and success, but when he occupies his cushy king bed night after night, he wonders if he deserves it if you're not there to share it.

he dreams of your first meeting on a regular basis. you were only kids back then, no older than 8 perhaps. he remembers the fear you and his sister felt when you were running from danger each day, never getting enough sleep in lieu of escaping. even with ragged clothes and dirt staining your skin, he thought you were perfect. the first time he saw you cry, he pulled you in for a hug. it was that day as a mere 9 year old that he realised he wanted you beside him for eternity and maybe even a little more than that. the way your head slotted under his chin like a piece to a missing puzzle gave his empty heart something to yearn for that wasn't a basic human necessity.

aventurine will never forgive himself for letting you get caught alongside him. the day he became a serial number rather than kakavasha was the first day he felt true failure as he witnessed you be stripped of the identity he had come to love so dearly.

the first time you were ever harmed has been burnt into his brain. he thinks you look gorgeous in red, but never when it's your blood that decorates your skin. your cries and howls of pain make a haunting alarm when he awakens from his slumber each morning. the brand on the back of your nape was one he found horrifically beautiful, though it served as a reminder of his failure to protect you. when he was sent on his first 'assignment', he looked back at you with an uncharacteristic determination. he'll get you out of here.

as aventurine slides his rings on over top his gloves, he scoffs to himself. you did manage to escape, but not to stand beside him. not to sleep in his arms and experience a life of luxury like you always dreamt of. the day he bought the ring he planned to propose to you with, he'd found out the organisation you were enslaved under was still under operation. he'd pulled some strings and gotten some ipc lackeys to check it out and locate you, but when they brought back your corpse, a crushing weight befell his heart.

that night, he'd spent hours sobbing and attempting cpr. he'd pinch himself to forcefully wake from this nightmare he now called reality and he'd hold your hand expecting a sliver of warmth, but it was now reminiscent of the concrete floors you would lay on.

when sunday placed a curse upon aventurine, he secretly hoped he wouldn't make the deadline. maybe then he could've seen you again. maybe then he could see you as you were meant to be. standing tall, unscarred skin and a glimmer in your eyes that he can only imagine, for he had never seen such a thing. luring out acheron in hindsight might have also been an attempt to see you again.

he never spoke about you. he never felt he had the right to do so anymore. you'd died merely days before he could come to you and he would forever drown in the guilt that he should've been faster. he would've brought you into his arms and caressed your sunken cheeks as he reassured you that you were finally free. he could've married you and had a family, treating his child the way he wished for many years ago. he should've been able to live with you in his life in peace, living each day as they pass and enjoying the little things like the sunset or trees that looked like they had faces. he would've made sure you felt valued and showed you all his love over the almost decade since he last saw you alive.

he didn't.

taglist (just taken from comments of the thought post):

@lunagalaa, @persipeoni, @lunavixia, @mostsaneptvfan, @kuureii, @shehrazadekey

if you're in bold, i couldn't tag you ;v;

Stories

Kaedehara Kazuha/f!Reader

A/N: aah i’ve been working on this one for a while! i really hoped to get it posted today, so i’m sorry if it sounds rushed;; there are some intense scenes later in the story so please be aware if you’re sensitive towards that! i tried to write an inazuma setting so i hope i used accurate terms. it’s heavily inspired by teapot dialogue and kazuha’s character stories// the bake-danuki mentioned are the little tanuki who prank people and dance

warnings: swearing, light blood, violence, break-in, intense scene, ooc, reader mentioned to be smaller than kazuha

SFW

word count: 5.8k

summary: You live in a forest far from the city. When someone knocks on your door during a storm, will you regret opening it to greet them?

-

Crash!

Lightning struck nearby, its booming echo piercing through the dense rain. The night sky was pitch black, visible only when another flash of lightning sparked life into the thunder clouds. The intensity of Inazuma’s storms had been slowly increasing as of late.

Keep reading

(aventurine x reader /// continuation of this concept)

"explain to me," the good doctor demands, "why do you need my help?"

"because." you fumble around you're words. your lips feel cold. herta's space station, especially this deep in it's bowels, is an unpleasant place to have any conversation, let alone one that is also unpleasant. "i don't have time."

"and you assume i do?"

"partially?" you rub a hand over your cheek. "throw me a bone here, doctor."

ratio has been sizing you up for the better part of half an hour, scrutinizing your intent in any way he can. you have been skillfully attempting to dodge most of those attempts, but veritas ratio is as diligent a man as he is intelligent. which is to say that he is not letting up until you divulge the truth.

you sigh.

"you will explain to me," he says outright, gaze piercing. "how one of the intelligentsia guild's most esteemed researchers needs help with an algorithm that is far below both of our skill levels. it's insulting to both myself, and yourself."

you sigh again, deeper and harder, "i, once again, do not have time. i have the 'full time job' of handling aventurine's odds, and those calculations don't run like any other odds i've ever worked with, and he is a variable constantly in motion. i need help making this algorithm so i can have some assistance with my main job at hand."

the doctor scoffs, and walks a circle around you, "i'm sure he's just thrilled with the company."

"we— he manages."

more than. but, veritas doesn't need to know that. you're sure he'll figure it out eventually.

veritas tagged the briefcase on a nearby table. it's gleaming, with a discreet ipc logo embossed on the side. the sight of it makes you nauseous with anxiety.

"is this bribe from him?" he asks.

"no." you've stopped aventurine anytime he has tried to intervene and make things easier for you. he rarely listens, but your relationship with ratio and the guild make him somewhat neutral territory. "higher up."

"i assume diamond wouldn't bother to dirty her hands. so, jade?"

"yes."

dr. ratio, for the first time, seriously considers your offer. then scowls. "it would be a waste of my time."

you sigh. there was a 67.22% chance of this outcome. luckily, you have gamed out the conversation from here.

"so you can't?"

"you know i can."

then, you laugh, and shake your head. "yes, i do. sorry to tease. i'm quite tired."

"you should go find your gambler." veritas crosses his arms, looking sidelong at the briefcase.

"i will, eventually." you turn your back to veritas as you begin to leave the open atrium. the air is hollow and frigid. "i'll just ask some other intelligentsia guild members about the project first. i'm sure they'd be happy to help."

you only take a few steps before dr. ratio grabs your arm. his grip is far too strong.

(chance of failure to secure dr. veritas ratio's assistance: decreased by 31%.)

"don't bother them."

"someone needs to help." you turn back to look at him, expression schooled. "and if you won't, i'm very sure someone else will be happy to work beside 'one of the intelligentsia guild's most esteemed researchers'. or, does such a title not truly apply considering i've been ousted from my previous position?"

he frowns, but before he can speak, you interrupt him. you haven't seen veritas since being tied down to your current post. you haven't let him have it. he deserves it, maybe.

"i heard from jade that i received a glowing recommendation from another well-respected scholar. apparently, the position was being considered for either one of us. somehow, with that recommendation, i drew the short end of the stick and now play handler for a man with a death wish and a statistically measurable chaos quotient that's ever-changing in multiples of three."

veritas's face is unmoving. unchanging. but you know you've struck something. it was to be him or you in this position. and you don't have the pride he does. you place your hand over top of his, posed to speak, to tear him apart—

a shrill ringtone shatters the tension. it's yours. you already know who it is.

you flip your phone open with one hand, still staring at ratio.

"hello," aventurine's voice beckons from the other side, smug and smooth. "where is my favorite, most brilliant mind hiding out? we're due to leave soon."

"sadly, with another one of your favorite, brilliant minds. i'll be finished up shortly and meet you at the docks."

"aw, did he not get onboard? that's quite the choice for him to be making. do you want me to give him a talking to you?"

"no, it's fine. i'm working something out."

"you sound upset."

"i'm tired." you rub at your eyes and break away from veritas with a yawn.

"you can nap on the ship. we have quite the journey."

"that we do. i'll see you in a bit?"

"see you there." you can hear the smirk in his voice.

sending you down to veritas alone was aventurine's gamble. one that is working out, predictably. never mind the damage your reputation will take after these next moments. you close the phone with a sigh and begin toward the grand elevator.

"veritas," you call his name. "i forgive you, for what it's worth. try not to do it again."

"i couldn't."

you laugh and shake your head as you ascend. by the time you arrive at the docks, the ipc's premier vessel is packed away and priming its engines. lights and sirens echo from it. aventurine's idles outside, waiting for you. he beams when he sees you.

"so," he whistles, guiding you with a hand on your lower back. you let him. "was the good doctor as prickly as ever?”

"if not more so" you admit. aventurine gestures with a sweeping hand to your shared quarters for the time being. there's a single bed, but you're used to this. you've come not to mind it. "i think i bruised his ego."

with a genuine laugh, “i don’t think that's possible."

"want to bet on that?" you ask.

your phone's text tone chimes and you shoot aventurine a sharp smile.

aventurine's odds are ridiculous. ever changing, constantly moving. none of your perceptions and calculations that are usually steadfast and unmoving can keep up with him. not with efficiency, anyways. it's exhausting work. however, the likelihoods of everything but aventurine? the predictions of a man like ratio?

easy. simple. you could do them in your sleep.

aventurine squishes against your side as you open your newest message.

[SENDER: Doctor Ratio <intelligentsia guild>]

> here is a first draft. forgo payment. i do not need to be in the stonehearts’ pocket.

[file attached: STONE ALGORITHM DRAFT 1.0.spqxxxiun.pqo]

aventurine laughs, muffling it against the side of your neck. his teeth are sharp and his breath is warm. it settles something in you. you lean into him and deflate, sliding down into your lap so your head is pillows there. a gloved hand cards through your hair.

"you're quite good at the game, when you choose to play." aventurine reminds you. he tells you this often.

"i know." you turn your face into his hand as the ship rumbles. "but it's your job."

aventurine pauses his pets, then thumbs over your lips. he looks sour, only for a moment, before resuming his motions, a bit rougher this time. you relish the feel of it, sinking into it.

"one of us has to, right?"

"right."

"and the other," he taps your lips. your sputter, indignant. "plays support."

"one of us has to." you remind him.

it's silent between the two of you as the ship whirs and bellows, taking off from herta's space station without reverie. onto your next destination, wherever aventurine is deigned to be needed, with you by his side, dutifully.

you press your face into his stomach, letting the smell of linen and his cologne envelope you.

neither of you have a choice to play this game. the cards are stacked, and you best not loose count from aventurine's side. you'll be damned if you do.

(there is a 98.769% chance that you are damned regardless.)

at least, at least, you have each other, you think as aventurine bundles you up closer, and you wrap yourself around him. you'll take that, for as long as it lasts.

love again

dan heng x gn reader 3.3k words , hurt comfort + second chance romance this was inspired by one of cardan's letters to jude (from the folk of the air series by holly black) but other that than i have no idea where this was going ++ dan heng might be ooc too but this was very fun to write :,)

the astral express used to be your home.

now, it is nothing more than a sore subject; a burden that presses on your being—a constant reminder that perhaps, there are some things you grow out of, but are forever unable to get rid of. it has taken far too much of your life for you to cast aside, and as much as you wish you could permanently erase it from memory, you aren’t sure if you even want to.

it’s a conflicting dilemma to be faced with. you’re constantly wedged in between two emotions: wanting to forget, and wishing you didn’t want to. there’s something so comforting about holding onto the remnants of the past. and yet, simultaneously, there is also something so devastating when faced with the realization that they belong only to the past; nothing more than a reflection of a bygone time.

still, you’d like to say that you’re faring pretty well. belobog has taken quite the space in your heart, and even though it might only be filling the hole that the express left you with, you’re more than content.

you’ve learned to adapt to the everwinter—the eternal freeze, as they’d call it. and even though it’s sweeping winds have proven to be quite bothersome at times, you don’t really mind. you’ve gotten used to enveloping yourself in a thick coat before exiting the house. and waking up a few minutes earlier than usual to warm yourself with a hot beverage isn’t so horrible.

but most importantly, you’ve begun looking forward to your days, as opposed to letting what happened a few months back tie you down.

it was a moment in time anyone would remember vividly had they experienced it—for a completely haunting reason. even after seven months of solitude; more specifically, seven months of self induced isolation, you can still easily step back into that day, as well as the ones that followed, though those are a bit more blurred in comparison.

when dan heng accused you of being a traitor, you knew there was no going back. in the blink of an eye, everyone on the astral express viewed you differently, and as much as they tried to believe otherwise, they couldn’t shake off the possibility of his words holding some ounce of truth to them; his status was that of a trusted guard, authority held in high esteem.

but he was also your lover.

dan heng was the embodiment of everything you’ve longed for; precious, beloved, sacred. only, that wasn’t enough to quell his misplaced anger towards you. instead, it fueled it even more, and with each day that followed, he made his distaste for you increasingly apparent.

you’ve tried to explain—persistently, and determined to dispel any suspicion he held towards you; desperate to make things right; to make him love you again. but every time you’d catch him alone and free from his duties, he’d glower at you before you could even reach him, and even as you trailed after him with a string of rushed explanations falling from your mouth, he wouldn’t listen. he didn’t want to. he didn’t need it.

he didn’t need you.

and who were you to ask for more? soon enough, even welt and himeko had little to no trust for you. they couldn’t even seem to tolerate you; always making excuses to avoid engaging in conversation, seemingly edging you out of their circle through subtle means.

it was exhausting, and also painful. incredibly so that one silent night, you hopped onto the train, dragging a suitcase from behind and begging pompom to take you somewhere else—anywhere else—and to keep quiet about your disappearance. not that you thought anyone would care, really, but still.

that’s how you ended up in belobog; with a broken heart you’ve tried piecing back together and an unspoken explanation festering in the back of your mind—that you weren’t siding with kafka, simply hoping to reach a compromise with her; a conversation caught and taken completely out of context.

but you’re faring pretty well. and time heals all wounds, apparently, so there’s an obstreperous hope rooted deep in your heart that makes you believe things might just really get better. each day that passes signifies another step inching you closer towards the line of recovery. and perhaps, knowing that one day you might cross it, was enough.

but belebog has been in some commotion lately.

for a reason completely unknown to you, the silvermane guards have been raising a ruckus by the streets every day. causing citizens, in return, to erupt into an uproar in absolute fear of what might follow.

and you’ve resigned yourself to that oblivion. ignorance is bliss, and you had no plan on disrupting the semblance of peace that’s been so graciously bestowed upon you. but the world has an incredibly humorous way of working, and somehow, it seemed hellbent on giving you the answer to a question you had no interest knowing.

“please wait.”

a firm hand encloses itself around your wrist, tightening its grip even further (though still gentle), upon noticing how you were trying to escape.

“y/n—” he tries once more.

“no,” you deny without any hesitation.

everything about this is wrong. the last thing you needed was for dan heng to appear right in front of you, and in belobog of all places. god, this was your home; your newfound sanctuary—did he have to ruin that too? how long until enough was enough?

you despise the way his touch sears into your skin, abhor the fact that even after months, he still manages to get a reaction out of you, and resent that your heart still races seeing the tender look on his face. that treacherous, good for nothing organ.

you level him with a glare before forcefully pulling your hand away from his; the loss of his warmth causes your heart to sink into your chest. “do not speak to me,” is all you say, and then pivot on your heel to walk towards the opposite direction—going to god knows where.

“this is where you’ve gone to?”

the question falls on deaf ears.

“you do not belong in belebog,” he says.

and you want to whirl around to ask him: where do i belong then? the astral express, where you have all cast me aside? but they remain lodged up in your throat, eventually dying when you realize how meaningless it would be trying to argue with someone who has never been willing to listen in the first place.

you continue walking, and each step you take is so heavy that they echo in his ears. dan heng is at a loss for what to do—has been for the couple of months, but he knows better than to let this opportunity slip through his grasp, so he follows, trailing behind you while keeping a distance.

he tries making small talk; starts talking about how he’s on a mission, accompanied with march and a newfound acquaintance who goes by the name trailblazer—claims that belobog is bound for conflict, and that he’s glad to see you, as if he wasn’t the one who pushed you away.

but you pay him no mind. there is no reason to show him any reaction. all you need to do is disregard him until he gives up.

“herta has been trying to contact you,” he suddenly announces. “she is worried; so are asta and arlan.”

“tell them there is no need. i’m alright.” you reply, voice rushed, wishing to get whatever this was over with.

what follows next are updates about everyone you’ve known on the express: himeko, welt, march, and even a couple of researchers have apparently been worried in regards to your disappearance; asking pompom about your whereabouts, and soon trying to find out the answer themselves. and while it washes away a bit of indignation, it holds little to no value to you now.

so what if they were troubled? for all you knew, they deserved it—they wanted you gone, and so you did them a favor by leaving, but now they want to pretend that they care? incredulous.

in a fit of frustration, you take a sudden halt in your steps, prompting him to take a pause as well; his feet rooted to the cobblestone pavement. when you turn to face dan heng, his shoulders straighten to correct his posture and his eyes search to meet yours, but you’re unhappy—displeased, and quite annoyed.

“leave. me.” you demand through gritted teeth, trying to prevent every other word threatening to escape by biting on your tongue.

but he cannot. because if you’ve been faring pretty well, then dan heng has been faring horribly, and if he made a mistake, then it was up to him to fix things.

“i have been looking for you,” he admits.

“you’ve found me, now leave.”

“my love—” he tries to begin, and it nearly kills you.

“do not!” you yell, every emotion you’ve been trying to keep at bay reaching its boiling point; eyes flaring with bitter anger at the term of endearment. “you have no right to call me that!”

you can’t do this anymore. for the sake of your own wellbeing; your pride and sanity, or whatever is left of them—and for every piece of yourself you’ve slowly been regaining. he is not allowed to strut out of your life and slam the door on you only to come back.

“you have no right to be here! leave!”

“come back to us.” to me, he wishes to say, though it remains in the back of his mind. “i am begging you.”

“i will never go back.”

“you do not belong in belobog.”

“i do not belong in the express either; you have made that very clear to me—all of you have.”

“i was mistaken in my judgment.” he tries to reason. and the turn of events is humorous, because this was exactly what you’ve been trying to do a few months back. and now, dan heng is completely aware of how desperate the feeling is. “but i have explained. they were not wrong to put their faith in me, but i was wrong to accuse you—i am sorry. the fault is on me, but please do not blame them for their suspicion.”

“i don’t care. you don’t get to do as you wish and expect me to follow through. i don’t belong here, yes, but whether you like it or not, this is my home now, and you have no right to take me away from here after tossing me aside.”

gesturing wildly with a hand, you continue. “i have been trying to navigate my way through the aftermath of what happened. and i have resigned myself to that loss—so leave me. you have no right to barge into my life and ask me to come back. you have no right to take advantage of my love after taking it for granted.”

the air stills around you then, temperature seemingly dropping a few more degrees, if that were even possible in this everwinter. helpless, you look at dan heng with quiet agony—defenseless and exposed, but most of all, ashamed.

dan heng stares at you in horror, and it makes you want to cry. you needed to get out of here; needed to lick at your wounds and stitch them back shut. god, where did your walls go?

“leave it. i—” you shake your head, unsure on what to say next. your hands fall to your sides, nails digging into the palms of your hands as they clench into fists.

“tell everyone on the astral express that i am fine. there is no need to worry about me.”

and he hates it; the way you speak of your home as if it’s no longer of that nature, but simply a place you once knew of. he hates how you’re right in front of him, within reach, but still out of grasp. and he hates that there is no one to blame for the consequence of his cruelty but himself.

red rimmed, exhausted, and on the precipice of surrender, dan heng’s eyes burn—perhaps he is being too selfish, but even then he doesn’t think he can stop.

“march has been wearing the clothes you’ve left at your station,” he says. and you have no idea where the direction of this conversation is heading, but something compels you to listen anyways. “himeko has been blaming herself for your departure. welt has been persistent in his demands for an answer from pompom. arlan and asta cannot go one day without mentioning your name.”

there’s a slight pause he takes before resuming.

“you have not left just because you did; you are part of the astral express. you will remain a piece of us forever, so please,” dan heng begs, swallowing against a scratchy throat. “come back to us.” and then corrects himself in a broken voice. “to them, at least.”

“enough!” you snap, eyes glistening with unshed tears.

“please—”

“you are asking for too much.”

“i will take anything you give me,” he lets out, strained and miserable; unceasing in his pleads. “you can resent me for an eternity, shout at me all you want, curse me unto death, just come home.”

and it’s enough to reduce you into a foolish mess; the patent desperation of it all—longing in his voice, yearning in his eyes. you’ve always had a soft spot for him. it seems that some things never do change.

“you don’t need me,” you whisper, still in disbelief.

dan heng offers you a breathless laugh.

“i do,” he confesses, wearing a smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “more than anything else. and i have tried not to need you—not to even think about you, but it’s a losing game.”

he takes a hesitant step towards you, praying you don’t move backwards in response. and when you don’t, it only spurs him on to continue, so he does exactly that; slowly moves closer until you’re only a breath apart from one another.

“when i found out the truth, i have never been more in dispute with myself. it is humiliating being proven wrong, but rather than shame, i felt sorry for not believing you; for not even listening.”

you have no room to cut in. he speaks before you can let out a single word. “i don’t deserve forgiveness. i don’t deserve to even ask for it, or any of this, but i beg you, come home. i am sorry for hurting you—for driving you away, but i’ll be selfish once more and ask you to come home.” hate me at a nearer distance. just don’t be too far away from me.

and for once, you’re rendered speechless; completely overwhelmed. your cheeks flush with heat, and you feel so much that you begin to cry—pathetically sobbing as you fall into him and weakly punch at his chest, somehow still managing to feel your heart skip a beat at the contact.

“why are you here?” you cry, choking between words and hiccups. “you confuse me. i don’t know what any of this means.”

he pulls you in closer, placing your head on his shoulder with a careful hand, allowing your tears to stain the fabric. “i love you.”

“you don’t know anything about love.”

“i do. i know it because it’s you.”

you sob into his shoulder, shaking. “i hate you.”

“i know,” he says, rubbing small circles on your back to soothe you. “but i love you, forever and always. i don’t think i can stop. i have been too careless with you. if you’re willing to let me, i want to fix that.”

“you can’t. i’m a mess.”

so dan heng says, “i love you regardless. i’ll love you always,” but what he doesn’t tell you is i have been killing myself over your absence. you have the power to destroy me, and you don’t even know it—and i have no idea what to do with that revelation.

you could turn into a criminal and i would still fear losing you more than i would death. i would follow you anywhere, even if it meant i had to throw away all my morals—so long as i’m with you, i need nothing more.

though, he’s still quite relieved you aren’t actually evil.

“you won’t.”

“i will.”

“but you left me,” you murmur.

“and i’ll never do that again,” he promises, words dripping with so much honesty that you can’t refute them; sincerity practically emanating from his body.

your pulse quickens. already faltering in your resolve to push him aside, the lump in your throat expands to a quivering voice as you breathe out his name: dan heng.

the way it rolls off of your tongue enthralls him. it’s enough to send him into a spiral—it’s also enough for him to understand what you’re trying to convey.

he pulls you in even closer, eliminating any space between you two as he presses up against your form, relishing in the way you feel in his arms—something he was starting to doubt he’d ever feel again.

really, honest to god, he was definitely made for you.

"i'm sorry. i'm sorry. i'm so incredibly sorry," he apologizes repeatedly while holding onto you. and while his touch is foreign, it is also terribly familiar.

“dan heng,” you call out to him once more.

“yes?” he questions, uncertainty heavy in his tone.

“i cannot go back to the astral express,” you reveal, and he can practically hear how his heart instantly shatters at your words. “not immediately, at least. belobog is a lovely place. i want to stay here for a while.”

and then they piece themselves back whole. “it is nice,” he agrees, arms tightening around your torso like the prospect of letting you go would end him.

“how long until you leave?”

“i am not too sure anymore.”

you pull away slightly to give him a questioning look, and he smiles at your curiosity. “i’ve told you earlier that i have been looking for you. if you are here, then there is no reason for me to leave now.”

“then you’ll stay?” you ask.

“yes,” he tells you. “i will stay.”

“but you have nothing here.”

“i have you.” and that is more than enough for him.

“but the astral express is your home, even more so than it is mine.”

“no,” he corrects you. “the express is where i reside in at most, but my home is wherever you are. and if that’s in belobog, then so be it.”

“you’ll stay here with me? in this cold?”

“yes,” he assures you, lifting a hand to cup your face. as a thumb brushes across your cheek, he starts leaning in until his lips hover over yours. “i’d like to stay with you, and i’d like to keep it that way forever, if you would let me.”

you don’t say anything else, because truthfully, it’s unnecessary to speak in this moment. instead, you find another way to communicate with him by filling in the gap separating you two with a kiss.

dan heng makes a startled sound, shocked at your advances, especially with taking into consideration the circumstance prior to this. but then realization strikes through him, and soon, he’s kissing you back.

it’s slow at first; delicate, unsure if any of this was actually real, uncertain if he even deserved it. either way, he’s mapping every second of this moment onto his heart, eyes slipping shut as he wills himself to be patient with you. but then sweet longing pierces through him, and the kiss turns fervent, wholly desperate, because it has been far too long—and he realizes that he’s wasted too much time.

so he keeps kissing you, and you let him.

warmth floods from your face to your chest to your fingers, spreading like wildfire. belobog is a region of unparalleled coldness—it is always freezing here; the wind is biting, and there’s a permanent chill that creeps through the air. but right now, you are melting into a lovesick puddle as dan heng kisses you with an intensity you’ve never known before; transferring all the love—all the longing, he’s stored up for you through slightly chapped lips and careful touches.

you think of it all of a sudden; how dan heng told you that home is wherever you are—and in his arms, you realize just how true that statement is.

"I'm sorry for always being so clumsy..." By reader to Childe.

P.S. Congrats for 500 followers!!

Clumsy Mistakes

Childe x Sensitive!GN!Reader (Both live in Liyue)

Summary: You have always been a clumsy fool, but Childe had proved many times that he accepts and loves that about you, he even finds it endearing sometimes. But when work related stress finally got to him, your lover just couldn't take you constantly ruining so many things for him anymore, so he shouts at you, spiting out the most hurtful words he could muster. Childe didn't realize what he had done, until you're suddenly just so scared of him.

Prompt: "I'm sorry for always being so clumsy..."

~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~

"GET THE FUCK OUT!" Childe had shouted at you, you're just helplessly crying in front of him, trying desperately to fix and pick up the papers you had wrecked from the floor.

All you wanted was to give him a piece of the cake you baked and a cup of coffee so that he wouldn't feel tired and droopy as he works, you know he likes to knock all his paper work in one day.

And yet again, your clumsiness took over, managing to make you slip and get the food you prepared all over the papers that Childe spent the whole week working on. At that moment, as you tried desperately to fix your mistake, all he could see was red.

"I... I'm so s-sorry, Ajax. I-I can help you clean it up---" You were cut off as Childe grabbed your wrist and yanked your body up, and instantly, your body shook in fear, tears started to form in your eyes from the bruising grip of his hand.

"I am so fucking done with you!" He threw your own arm at you, making you stumble back slightly. Your other hand gently gripped your bruised wrist, hissing at the pain. "I am so tired of your clumsy ass ruining everything for me!" He rubbed his hands on his face in sheer frustration.

"How in the world can someone be so weak?!"

"Aj--"

"I would've been so much better off if I just never met you!"

You couldn't say anything, his words sent endless jabs to your heart. But just knowing that what he said really is true, it just broke you apart even more. It is your fault that he lost a lot of work progress, It is your fault that this is happening, it is your fault that his life is going downhill.

It's always your fault.

"Didn't you hear me?! I said get the fuck out!" You felt immense fear consume you as Childe grabs your wrist again, his harsh grip making your bruise ache even more. You whimpered as he dragged you to the door, and it feels like your wrist is finally bleeding.

"A-Ajax, please, it hurts!" You finally screamed at him, but he ignored you, throwing outside of his work room.

You fell onto the floor, hot tears streaming down your face. He had slammed the door shut on you, and you're left to cry in the living room of your shared house.

Slowly, you got up, resting your back on the wall and hugging your knees as you let your tears fall, sobbing quietly.

You hated how you couldn't control your sobs, your lungs burned from choking on your own frustration.

Just like everyone in your life, Childe had finally realized as well, how pathetic you really are.

~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~

Childe felt a pit in his stomach all day at work, he couldn't wait until he got home. He wanted to apologize, he might've been mad about what happened, but that's no excuse for hurting you, both emotionally and physically.

The Harbinger had planned to make it up to you, cook you your favorite dinner, give you a massage, cuddle with you all night, maybe even take you out for a date!

Yet it felt like he was slapped in the face, as he sees you cowering in fear right in front of him, were you scared of... him?

Childe's heart ached as you shook in fear, every time he was even remotely coming closer to you, your eyes would water and your fist would clench, like you think he's gonna hurt you.

He still cooked your favorite food that night, but instead of feasting at it like you usually would, you just stared down onto your hands, not saying a single thing as your food remains untouched.

He tried to give you a massage, but even just him offering immediately made you shook you head.

And it was finally time for bed, maybe this time, you'll let him at least hug you.

His hope was crushed instantly when you grabbed a pillow and a blanket from the drawers. "Y/N?" You froze, you were just about to leave the room when he called for you, you refused to look at him.

"You're not sleeping here?" The answer was obvious, but Childe was just hoping that maybe he'll be able to convince you to stay with his sad voice.

You shook your head and the man behind you sighed, you wouldn't even talk to him.

You were just about out of the bedroom when your clumsiness got you again, making you trip on literally nothing and falling onto the floor.

"Y/N!" Childe was beside you right away, worry laced in his expression.

As he tried to help you, you scrambled away from him immediately. "Y/N, please... just let me help." Out of instinct, he grabbed your wrist to assist you, when you whimpered though, he let go of you.

"Ahhh... Nooo..." You cried, taking your wrist away from him and bringing it to your chest.

"Y/N..." Childe knew exactly where that bruise came from... him. He slides closer to you, ignoring you silent pleas, he lifted you up, before gently laying you down on your shared bed.

You avoided eye contact with him, and he just sighs.

"If you really don't feel comfortable sleeping beside me, then... you can sleep here, I'll sleep on the couch." Childe had turned around, picking up the pillow and blanket that you dropped, ready to head out.

...

"A-Ajax..." You called for him, and heavens did his name sound so good coming from you.

"I'm sorry for always being so clumsy..." The way your voice sounded, how you sounded so ashamed of yourself. He turned around to face you before smiling.

"Hey, at least you're not an asshole that hurts people you love when you're angry." Childe had said jokingly, before walking out and closing your bedroom door.

...

...

...

Childe felt a little kiss land on his lips, his tired eyes opening.

He saw your beautiful face, lit by the moonlight that shone through the window. He felt another kiss again, after that, hearing your quiet giggle.

"Goodnight, Ajax. I love you." One final kiss on his lips, you stood up, ready to go back to bed. As you walked away from his "sleeping" form, a smile formed on his face... you two would always say I love you to each other and a quick kiss every night.

You'd probably be embarrassed if he ever bring this up, so it'll just be his little secret.

"I love you too, Y/N."

~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~

This actually made me cry a bit while I was typing, hehe. I hope you like it, angst is one of my favorite things to write. Thank you for requesting!!!

cw. nsfw, afab!reader, breeding kink, creampies, overstimulation, masturbation *not proofread, just pure horny

[It do be my birthday so here is milkman breeding session <33] here are some refs for you @smmy-winchster @partycatty

You should be glad he came at the time he did, otherwise you would've been caught a long while ago.

You're being pressed into your desk, your thighs closed tightly around Francis’ hips. The sound of your arousal was evident. There was a growing pool of cum coating your swollen cunt. Francis looked down between your messy thighs, watching how your pretty hole stretched around his length.

“So sorry for making you wait, my darling.” His cock throbbed again, more cum managing to spurt out of him. His low groans trialled into short whimpers, his sensitivity growing with each pump. His fingers dipped into your hips, realigning his hips back before pushing forward and pulling you down onto him. His cock speared you open, coating your walls in a sticky white.

“Easy my dear, I'm not done.” His words are a whisper against your skin, a promise of something more. His breathing is heavy, his cock pulsing within your warm walls. You pushed your hips down against him, meeting his thrusts halfway. Francis tugged your legs up higher, letting them rest over his shoulders. His hands held tighter on your hips, desperately pulling your soft body onto him.

You're lost in your own cloud of lust, only focused on the way Francis moulds your pussy to accommodate his length. The wet squelch reaches your ears too quickly, flustering you as you listen to how easily he slides in and out of your slick cunt.

His hands spread across the sides of your stomach before he trails one down, rubbing his thumb against your puffy clit. Your back bows, craving him harder, faster, and deeper. You can feel every vein and every pulse as Francis rammed himself inside you again and again.

He could feel his own cock twitch, swiftly pulling out to coat your messy cunt with another layer of white. He continues to stroke himself through his orgasm, slapping his tip against your clit. 

“You can handle a few more, right? Be good for me and let me fill you up, yea?”