Seafoamfelly - Trash Compacter

burn me down to ashes - steve harrington & billy hargrove

plot: shy, socially awkward little you, the resident nobody of Hawkins High, is caught between a rock and a hard place in the span of a day. the rock being Steve Harrington, the guy you've had a crush on forever and who just might like you back, and the hard place being Billy Hargrove--the guy who just can't seem to keep his eyes, or hands, off you.

cws: bullied!angelface, angel has low self-esteem/intrusive thoughts, 80s movie references, crushes, smoking, slight violence/roughousing, jealousy, drinking, angel makes friends, nicknames, angsty fluff but it goes up from here, non-canon character appearances, fem reader.

a/n: vol II coming soon! this is a longer fic i cut in half ♡

word count: 5.4k

You've never really thought there was anything wrong with you, at least not until you got into high school. The last four–five, now, since you had to repeat your last year–have been the most hellish years of your life.

You've been knocked around, had your books thrown in the fountain, your locker vandalized, your desk kicked by people walking by…every which way you could be tortured, you have. Even graduation served to be an opportunity for people to get their licks in, one of the girls that tortured you the most sticking her foot out when you went to walk the stage and tripping you in front of the whole school, resulting in a bellowing chorus of mocking laughter that you're certain you'll hear in your nightmares for the rest of your life.

But there's a life you've dreamed of, one you know you would never attain in this lifetime, but you fantasize about nonetheless. One where you're maybe not popular, or even liked, but one where you're at least protected. His name reads out in the scribbles at the margins of your notebook, and the smell of his cologne sticks in your mind and draws your thoughts to him whenever you pass by the scented section of the department store. Your protector, your saviour, at least in your mind–it's none other than Steve Harrington, the most popular guy in school and the one guy you know you would never have a chance with.

For one, he's widely adored–you wouldn't be able to work your way through all his fans if you tried, and most of them are far prettier, smarter, and more popular than you anyways. Two, Steve himself is objectively gorgeous, at least to you, and there's no way he would go for a…for someone like you, someone that looks or sounds or smells like you. Three, you don't even have friends, much less a relationship, so you really would have no idea what you were doing in the first place. Four, you can't even work up the courage to talk to him, or even look in his direction, even though you sat right next to each other all through chem class in your senior year and he asked to borrow your textbook on several occasions. And you now see him at Family Video at least once a week to rent a new movie. That's pretty much the extent of your interactions, and that's where the dream stops and real life slaps you in the face.

But it's on that day that you step into the store and hear excited chattering that you don't realize that might just change, Robin and Steve exchanging words and gestures that look like they're trying to agree on something.

"Welcome to Fa–oh, hey! You're just in time!" Robin waves to you as you walk in, dropping the corporate greeting the second her eyes meet yours. She's always been so nice to you, kind in a way you feel like you don't deserve, but it would be impossible to try and convince her otherwise so you simply go along with whatever she says. You're not really sure how else to be friends…if that's even what you are. Maybe, maybe not. It's a little difficult for you to figure out, even though you desperately want to call Robin your friend. She leans over the counter on her elbows as you walk up, and pats her hands on it as she bounces on the balls of her feet, clearly excited about something.

"You wanna go to a house party with me? Harrington here is chickening out last minute, and I really don't want to go alone."

"I'm not chickening out! I just don't want to hang out with a bunch of dickheads I knew in high school." Steve huffs, certainly because knowing them they've been arguing about it for a while before you stopped by, and he looks so good today, even though you say the same to yourself every time you see him. His hair is a little crazy from him running his hands through it, but it still looks good, fluffy, like every sway of his locks is intentionally beautiful and not accidental.

"I've never been to a house party before! I want the full, uninterrupted experience." You're not even thinking straight when you're distracted by him, and find your mouth running before you can catch it.

"Me neither, um…it sounds like fun, though. I'll go." You say rather meekly, some part of you wondering perversely if Robin's lips will stretch into a smirk as she reveals that she was just teasing, and how dumb do you have to be to think anyone would actually invite you to a party?

"Really? Sick, I don't feel so alone now!" She does a little victory dance, celebrating her triumph with a few fist pumps and the sound of her shoes clacking against the linoleum behind the counter. Safe. Everything is safe, now, you're sure, and you take a deep breath to try and steady your thumping heart.

"Well…okay, if you're both going, I'll come with you." Steve tightens his arms, still crossed over that broad chest that you've only ever seen in its full glory during those basketball games you've snuck out of class to go watch.

"Wow! Changing your mind on a dime just cause Buttercup is coming–I feel like chopped liver, seriously!" She's joking, but it still flusters you. "Buttercup" is one of the few nicknames they've dubbed you with, on account of how many times you've rented out The Princess Bride since they've started working there. As far as you know you're their most frequent customer, so it's somewhat of a game for them to find movies you haven't seen that you might like–and to be brutally honest, it's about the fullest extent of any friendship you have. "Alright, alright, Stevie, you can come keep us safe. But don't you dare be a buzzkill!"

Robin turns back to you after prodding Steve in the chest, and her eyes are brighter than they were before. Even if the realization of what you just agreed to is only hitting you now, and the anxiety is slowly starting to creep in, the fact that you made her so happy by saying yes is all that's keeping you on your feet right now.

"Just come by after we close and we'll drive you there, okay?" You nod in agreement, and that's when Robin climbs up and slides herself across the counter, dropping down beside you on the other side to wave you over to the rows of shelved movies. "Now, what movie are we going with this week? Romcom, horror?"

You place the VHS on the counter, just as pristine as when you picked it up. The Breakfast Club is always a classic for you, you'd watched it a couple times over the week–you always tend to see yourself in Ally, while you see so much of Steve in Andrew, which might be why you've watched it so many times with your pillow hugged to your chest, your eyes glued to the screen. Somehow, though, the sight of John parading around the library tables always stirs something within you, something that reminds you of someone you know, but can't put your finger on.

Either way, you shake the thought from your head as you follow Robin down the aisles, her steps more of a skip as she saunters towards the newer tapes on the New Release rack. She picks up one after the other and chitters on about each one, which ones she thinks are bogus and which ones are diamonds in the rough–but your gaze keeps drifting back to Steve at the counter, his hips pressed against it as he leans back and steadies himself with those smooth, toned biceps, and fiddles with the tape you dropped off…and you have to force yourself to look away, to not meet his eyes when you feel them turn towards you, and focus back on your friend as your mind runs wild with thoughts about tonight.

When the time comes, it's very clear when you move through the front door that you don't belong here.

Hours after picking up your newest movie-The Neverending Story–you're trailing behind Steve and Robin with a new dress you picked out weeks ago and a bit of makeup smeared awkwardly over your eyes. You've never been sure how to do it, but Robin made a point of commenting on how cute you look when you slid into the backseat of Steve's car, so it at least calmed you down a little bit before you got there.

Bodies are packed in everywhere, laughing, talking, drinking. Further into the house you spot a living room down the hall, where the music is loudest and people are dancing so close together they almost look like one full unit. People are stumbling to and from each room with solo cups filled with coloured drinks, most of them drunk already–and you find yourself trying to stick close to Robin, except that she and Steve are hurrying down the hall to go talk to someone they know, and beckoning you after them. There's no going back now, especially since you'll have to walk home if you try to leave alone. And after what happened last time you did so, you just have to swallow the lump in your throat and start putting one foot in front of the other.

You move stiffly down the hallway they had weaved through, people leaning against the walls and moving in groups with their friends to get more drinks or migrate towards the dancing area. Alone, you feel like too many unfamiliar eyes are drawn towards you, you know you must stick out like a sore thumb–but there's one face you recognize, and it immediately makes you regret ever choosing this hallway to work your way down.

Billy Hargrove leans against the wall by his arm, jacket open to reveal a white wifebeater and a packed chest that must be an absolute nightmare to face in a fight, many of which you know he's been in. He's got such a reputation, despite not being in Hawkins for too long, and he was even present at the infamous Starcourt Mall fire–that in itself is evident by the burn scars you can see peeking out from the sides of his leather jacket. Some girl is flirting with him, or trying to, because he looks like he's not paying much attention. You don't even realize it's the girl that tripped you at graduation until you get close enough to sidle past them, but that's unfortunately close enough for Billy to lock eyes with you and stand up off the wall.

"Hey, pretty girl. I don't think we've been introduced." He turns completely towards you, fully engaged, and holds out a hand to you with half-lidded eyes. Thinking about it for more than a few seconds, which is about how long it takes for you to realize that he's actually talking to you, the thought that he must be drunk crosses your mind and your shoulders tense a little bit. He frightens you, and you know he has a temper even at the best of times–you don't even want to know what he might say or do if you piss him off. So you shut your mouth and tremble as you place your hand delicately into his, hoping nothing terrible comes out of the conversation, especially when the girl's eyes are burning a glare into you. Vanessa, you're sure her name is, even though you've tried so hard to forget it. "Billy. You can call me whatever you want, though."

"Hi…uh, I think we've met before." He squeezes your hand, not hard, just an inkling of pressure. The desire to reach out and grab those words to shove them back into your mouth is so strong, but you can't, and your chest tightens so much you might just collapse right then and there. But Billy, on the contrary to what you think he might do, just smiles enough that you can see a glimpse of those pearly teeth past his plush lips.

"I can't believe that," He winks, his thumb rubbing the the heel of your hand before he finally lets it go. Is he…is this what flirting really is? It feels like it's too much like the movies, but you've really got no frame of reference since you have no experience yourself, so you truly have no idea. Including whether he's being facetious or not. "I would've remembered a gorgeous girl like you. Or, more like, I wouldn't have forgotten you. No matter how hard I tried."

Now you're stuck. Dreaded small talk. You can't believe he's doing anything but trying to fuck with you, especially with Vanessa standing right next to both of you, so that's just how you end up thinking about it. But you would be such a liar if you thought his comments didn't raise a heat to your face that must be obvious even under your touch of makeup.

"Um…I, uh…we were…calculus partners.." You're trying to get it all out fast so you can try to catch up to Steve and Robin again, but the words just strangle themselves when they leave your mouth, much like any time you try to speak to someone you're not comfortable with.

"No shit," He breathes. "I do recognize you." He says it in a way that feels more sincere than anything else he's said leading up to this. "You've really changed since then. Really…filled out that figure. Or maybe this is the first time I'm seeing you in clothes like that. You look great."

Billy's eyes roam unapologetically, drinking you in from feet to forehead and every spot in between. It doesn't feel right to be looked at in such a way, it feels perverse–not like how a partner or a love interest would do it, but more like the creepy older men that try to pick you up when you're walking home from work. Even though Billy is far from that, and he's actually a little nicer than you thought he was, it just feels wrong for you to be looked at that way. Because you're not pretty, and you're not special. You're not the type of person that people look at like they want to see you naked, and treasure you while they do so. Not like how Billy's looking at you now, until something seems to strike him that makes him finally pipe up.

"Wasn't that the class that the ginger kid pulled your hair in?" He's right, and it couldn't be more humiliating for him to remember that above all else. Sam Dunner had grabbed your ponytail in third period calculus and yanked it hard, hard enough to sting, and earned himself a cacophony of laughter when you shrieked that you felt, at the time, would be the soundtrack to your entire life. Billy had been out that day, maybe sick, maybe late–but regardless, he hadn't been there to say a word and you had always figured he wouldn't. Up until now, at least, when you nod and mumble a quiet "Yes", and his brow furrows.

"That reminds me, actually." Billy turns to the girl he's been ignoring up until now, her face lighting up when he finally looks down at her. You're surprised she's kept quiet up until now.

"Vanessa, weren't you the one that tripped this nice girl at graduation?" What he says, and the way he says it, renders you completely shocked. You could never imagine talking to someone like her like he just did, because you know she would chew you up and spit you back out for all her friends to laugh at. But evidently Billy is a lot different, because she starts visibly floundering with a stutter when he calls her out right in the open.

"Y-Yeah, so? It was a joke. It was just…in good fun." She recovers quickly if nothing else, and says it with smug venom flicking off her tongue, and you just want to disappear so that she never looks at you with that expression again.

"I think you owe her an apology, actually." He leans into her ear and says it so quietly, almost gently, that your eyes widen as you wonder whether you actually heard that right.

"Are you serious? It was a joke, it's not my fault she got all upset."

"I'm dead fucking serious. Now, why don't you apologize, before I get really pissed off." The tension you feel between them would break a butcher's knife.

"O-Okay! I'm sorry, like…I'm sorry. Jesus." She mutters that last part under her breath.

"That was pathetic, but whatever. Get out of my face." She huffs in frustration but does as he says, pushing past you and knocking shoulders in a way that's definitely intentional–but for you, it's so much of the norm that it doesn't even really faze you. You also don't catch the harsh glare he shoots at the back of her head either, since it disappears as soon as you turn to look at him again and he's pulling out a cigarette from a pack with his teeth.

"You wanna puff, sweetheart?" He reaches into the pocket of his jacket to produce a lighter, but you're quick to shake your head as he cups a hand around the end and lights it up.

"N-No, I have to…get back to my friends. Um, thank you."

"Not a problem, princess. Anyone else gives you problems, you just come to me, mkay?" He winks at you over his burning cigarette, enthused over the way you trip over your words in front of him. You just nod, pseudo-politely, and move to take a step away.

"That's my girl." He breathes out a puff of smoke as he says it, eyes following you until you've moved into the main living room and presumably out of sight. It's a little dizzying when you finally get there, the familiar thumping beat of Love Shack resonating through the walls as you shuffle into what feels like a whole other world.

"Buttercup! Thought we lost you back there." Your one and only friend's voice rises above the crowd as she spots you, and she strolls over to rescue you from the rest of the party. Robin's smile lighting up when she takes hold of your hand soothes you at once, and you breathe deeply as she pulls you along to a more open area of the house where Steve and two other people are standing and chatting.

"Oh, hi! Is this your new friend?" Once she turns to look at you, you recognize both her and the guy standing next to her immediately. The brunette is Nancy Wheeler, one of the most popular girls when you were in school besides being Steve's ex-girlfriend. And standing next to her–

"I know her," Jonathan Byers cuts in, a soft smile tweaking his lips as he waves in your direction. "She and I were in gym together freshman year."

It does come as a surprise that he remembers, but then again, if anyone would, it would be Jonathan Byers. You two were famously bad in your class, constantly being overlooked by the more athletic students and criticized for your pathetic performance in any and all sports by the coach. But your saving grace had been that you were terrible together, even though you were both shy and socially awkward freshmen who could barely talk to each other, much less anyone else. He's the only other one that was really reaching the same level of an outcast as you in school, aside from the infamous Eddie Munson, whom you've only spoken to a handful of times when you've seen him at Family Video but has been one of the few to treat you with familiarity and kindness….two things you rarely find with people your age.

"Really? I feel like I should remember you…did we have any-?"

"No, uh, no we didn't." You don't have the heart to tell her you sat behind her in biology for two years straight, because she seems like a nice girl and you know it'll just make her feel bad and turn the conversation into an awkward mess. So it's easier just to avoid it. And it's already difficult for you to imagine her and Steve…it just hurts, even though it shouldn't. If they didn't last, what chance would you ever have?

"Aw, well, it's really nice to meet you! Steve's told me so much about you, so has Robin. You're a movie buff, huh?"

"I-I…yeah, I like movies."

She's so pretty that it's honestly kind of intimidating, not to mention you're stood in the same circle as not just four other people, but four very cool and charismatic people. You've got no chance, especially with Steve being one of those four, and so you know you just want to say as little as possible to minimize the inevitable embarrassment. But it soon becomes very apparent that you're just destined to be the center of attention.

"Like? She's seen like, every movie in existence." Robin backs you up, maybe intentionally or not, and the way she gushes about you makes you want to hide…but not in the bad way. It's flattering, genuinely flattering. Not something you're all that used to, at all. "She just dropped off Breakfast Club today. Classic."

"Ooh! Who's your favourite?" Nancy looks back at you, sincerity in her eyes. She really is so pretty.

"U-Um…An..Andrew…I like Andrew." That's not entirely a lie, but it also serves as a convenient enough answer to avoid drawing suspicion.

"I, uh, I like Ally." Steve pipes up from nowhere, shoulders shifting as he readjusts his jacket.

"I'm surprised you're not a Molly Ringwald fan, Steve." Jonathan pipes up, and Steve shakes his head with a laugh, but his eyes stick to yours and they don't flicker away this time. And he nibbles his lower lip between his teeth, bites down–oh, he bites down, and suddenly nothing that anyone else says makes it to your ears as you stop and stare. A warm feeling stirs within you, like the words you want to say are bubbling up to your throat–

"C'mon, let's dance! I love this song!" But before they have a chance to come out, Robin's tugging you by the hand over to the dance floor, leaving the other three looking on at the two dorks who have no idea how to function at a party. Robin pulls you to the center of the crowd and giggles as you shyly stick close to her, allowing her to take your other hand too and move them around as the two of you bounce along to the rhythm. You don't really know what you're doing, and neither does she, but the more you realize that nobody is really looking aside from the two of you at each other, it slowly becomes easier and easier to just let the beat move you and a smile to work its way on to your face as Robin twirls you around and laughs free-spiritedly. Song after song comes and goes, you occasionally get a glimpse of Steve watching you through the throng of people–and he looks like he's smiling. Some small, selfishly hopeful part of you prays he's smiling at you.

When you finally tear your eyes away and turn back, Robin's gone. Glancing around to try and find her, you only then distantly remember her speaking in your ear just loud enough over the music that she was gonna go get a drink, but you should've been paying more attention–without her around, you feel small, and scared again. Someone bumps you hard with their elbow and you squeak at the pain in your side, someone else cursing at you for bumping into them in the process, and once you have a chance after that you're slipping through the crowd to get out of the most concentrated area of people. And when you do, you still don't see her, not over by the kitchen or out by the front door.

You can't spot Robin over the crowd you just wormed your way out of, can't really see anyone with so many people in one place. Somebody jostles you as they shove past, and in the heat of the moment, the only option you have is the guy standing just a few feet away, who just pushed his way past a few people in his way–the one you've been too mortified to try and talk to one on one since you were fourteen years old.

"Steve?"

"What's up?" He's strangely alert, focused completely on you like nothing else about the party exists.

"I'm gonna walk home, I…I just need to go home."

"Already? Are you alright?" It's a little shocking to hear that, and to see how concern spells out across his pretty features as he reaches to touch your arm–your arm.

"I'm…I-I'm fine, I just…it's a little too much for me. I don't.." You can't get the words out. I don't belong here. They feel too painful to say in front of someone you admire so much, and you pull away from his touch despite wanting it so badly.

"Aw…okay, wait by the back door, I'll go tell Robin and I'll drive you home."

"It's fine. I'll walk." You're saying it as you're already heading towards the open back door, one that's sliding glass that leads out to the grassy backyard, because you'd much rather dart around the side of the house than fight your way back through to the front door. Plus, you seriously need a breath of fresh air right now. You've got no idea that he's hurrying after you, and has a full view of what's waiting for you when you get out the door.

The second you step out into the cool, airy night, the sloshing shhhh sound of running water hits your ears–and then it hits the rest of you, a spray of freezing cold water crashing into your whole body and catching you completely off guard. The grass beneath you is slippery, and you stumble back and hit the ground hard on your spine, and they're still spraying you with what feels like a fire hose of water with a cackling symphony of laughter until Steve's voice rises above the crowd.

"Hey! Knock that shit off!"

The tidal wave stops and leaves you shaking only when the garden hose drops from your ex-classmate's hands, and that's because Steve's grabbed hold of it and ripped it from his grasp before shoving him, his face so red with anger like you've never seen before. But it doesn't stop the laughing of the crowd gathered around, all of them clearly having waited for the perfect victim to come out to pull their little prank–and each and every face you recognize as someone who at one point tortured you in school.

It takes you one try, then another to get up, still shaky and cold from the water and trying not to slip on the wet grass–but when you do get to your feet you stumble out of the lit area of the yard and around the side of the house, tears welling in your eyes as they laugh even louder and jeer at you with mocking insults that make the sting of humiliation burn even harder. You just want to run as far away as you can, away from the house, the people, from Steve–he must think you're such an idiot–but you hit another wall, although this one catches you in two strong arms before you fall again.

"Hey–princess? Why are you soaked?"

It's the last person you want to see right now, the most likely guy in the entirety of Hawkins to mock you for your current state. But Billy's got confusion and concern written all over his face even so, his voice laced with something a little more…strained.

"Tell me what happened." The cigarette he must have come out to smoke dangles haphazardly from his lips, but he lets it fall and mindlessly grinds it into the dirt when he actually notices it does. Otherwise, his eyes are completely centered on yours.

"I wanna go home," You sniffle.

"Are you crying?" He pulls you into his arms, uncaring as to the fact that you're drenched and freezing. He seems more attentive towards warming you up. And he is warm.

"Who did this to you?"

"I d-dunno his name…"

"Describe him. Where is he?" You point weakly towards the back of the house, still sniveling like a crying baby. You can hear a voice in your head telling you to suck it up, that you're just trying to get attention. That you deserved that.

"Wait here." Whatever words you want to say can't squeeze around the lump in your throat. You just turn your eyes down as Billy steps around you, gait heavy and purposeful as he marches towards the back and collides with someone, yet doesn't stop.

"Watch it, man–hey! There you are," Steve's voice reaches you, but doesn't, at the same time. You don't even turn to look, just stand there staring at the grass and feeling the tears fall and hit the ground as he hurries over and moves in front of you to grip your shoulders.

"Oh, god, honey, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry." You brusquely wipe the tears away with your sleeve, and soon you have your arm pinned to your chest as Steve tugs you into his arms and squeezes you so tight against his shoulder.

"Shit, you're cold–come on, let's go inside and warm you up-"

"No!" You push against his chest, and he leans back but doesn't let go, hands loosely holding you still. Your voice is strong but your touch is weak, at least too weak to get away from him. "I don't want to, Steve! I don't want them to laugh at me! I'm fucking sick of it!"

He's struck speechless. You've ruined it all, just like always. Just like you and everyone else in the world knew you would. Stupid, you're so goddamn stupid.

"Then…Then let's not go through the house." He pulls you closer to the side of the house, near the edge of the roof–a sturdy, box-shaped pressure meter serves as the perfect thing for him to step up on, and when he pulls you up with him he clasps his hands together once he's close enough the the edge of the roof jutting out from the first floor. "Here, step on my hands. Climb up–but be careful!"

You don't have the energy to argue with him. And you don't want to subject yourself to anyone else seeing your tears, since you're sure that more of your bullies will be lying in wait near the front of the house to hurt you even worse. But sometimes, you hate how stubborn Steve can be, even as he's lifting you up to climb on to the roof and out of the way of more danger. Once you're kneeling on the tiles, he hauls himself up alongside you with a few groans of effort, before carefully moving towards the window that overlooks the rooftop and yanking it up and open. He ushers you to climb inside and drops inside after you, and once it's closed, you find yourself standing in some stranger's bedroom.

"Steve, we shouldn't be-" He hurries past you and turns his head to raise a finger to his lips, his hand shooting out to twist the lock to the bedroom door. And to make doubly sure that you won't be encroached on, he takes the chair sitting at the desk against the wall and props it underneath the door handle, ensuring that it's properly snug before he sighs in relief.

And now, against all odds, you're standing in a stranger's bedroom at a house party with Steve Harrington. Soaking wet, cold, and cheeks still tearstained from your outburst, wondering what in the world is going to come next–aside from more heartbreak.

a guiding hand

(sagau mini series that i only have one part of i might make more but for now enjoy some mond lol)

PART 1—Mondstadt

The night was far from young. A comfortable silence had settled in the Angel’s Share tavern following the exit of its usual gaggle of jolly drunkards, leaving only a few stragglers in its wake. The two remaining patrons sat at the lantern-lit bar, nursing their respective drinks as the bartender tid up after another busy evening.

Kaeya and Rosaria often drank together, chatting about nothing and everything. The more serious conversations seemed to spark in the dead of night, after a few pints of whatever they decided to order that night and once the majority of people had called it a night.

“Random question, but have you been feeling… weird urges, lately?”

Keep reading

Yandere Job Letter

To whom it may concern,

On behalf of our wonderful CEO, founder, and employer, we are pleased to announce that you have been chosen! For what, you may be asking? Our benevolent, hard working, completely loving boss has asked us to reach out to you in hopes of making you their newest spouse!

You may have concerns about early relationship statuses and learning who our wonderful boss even is, but we assure you, this choice is fast, easy, simple, and will please him greatly! You will be granted an option to either dress formally or casually for your initial meeting, where we will discuss exactly what it is our boss has decided to do with you.

He wants some of the details to be saved for the meeting, which the time and date will be stated by the end of this letter. However, he has graced us with the privilege to tell you a few points of interest, to excite you even more for this lovely “agreement”

-While you will be terminated from your previous profession and status, he will provide all financial needs for you into the foreseeable future

-No other employees will be able to bother you or harass you anymore, and given permission, we happy workers will be thrilled to take care of unfavorable employees

-Romantic gestures full of what (from what our employer believes) you find desirable (whether or not you accept is optional) including meals, kissing, pet names, gift giving, and marking of your skin (be that with teeth, kisses, or etc.)

While we’d love to state you are joining this relationship “at will” let it be known, if you try to leave this partnership at any time, you will be subjected to any, and all precautions necessary to keep you and our boss happy. That may include, but is not limited to-

-Taking away electronic privileges

-Lying to your loved ones about your location and condition

-Binding and restraining you by the hands, neck, feet, or more

-Using pharmaceuticals to subdue you

-Taking away your right to speak with a gag, or even shutting out all methods of communication (aside from with our wonderful employer!) off

NOTE: These methods vary, some are more intense while others are just a simple reprimand! There is no limit to what we will do for him and this wonderful company.

We encourage you to think over this opportunity and prepare for a wonderful new life! We expect you to show up on Wednesday, 11:15 AM in whichever attire you decided to choose listed above.

This offer will never expire, however, we do expect a positive response, otherwise we might try more invasive and dare we say, troubling methods. All questions will be answered at the given meeting above, and any ones not addressed we can happily reply to once our boss gives us permission to.

We look forward to having you as a part of our team, and keeping our boss in love and beyond happy.

See you soon,

Lovely Smiles Corp.

( I hope tumblr doesn't mess up the formatting lol. I didn't have a specific character in mind, and more or less went with a brainwashed or cult like job facility, and I've never written a job letter before so I hope it isn't too bad! If you enjoyed, let me know! I could make more in the future!

-Mommabean)

Helloooo~

Can I request a oneshot with Xiao who turned his back against Rex Lapis and Liyue for God Reader who was deemed a fake by everybody except him because he can feel the pain from his karmic debt lessening when he approaches the reader and recognized them the moment he laid eyes on them? So now Xiao becomes a fugitive and runs away with reader to protect them. I also would really appreciate it if you can put Qiqi into the mix? The little zombie becomes Xiao's and readers intel in liyue.

I hope that wasn't too confusing and if you don't want to do it, it's 100% alright.

OHHH I LOVE THIS IDEA!!! Xiao love forever i love him so much pls i need a rerun of his banner pls mihoyo

Xiao being on the reader's side in the imposter sagau is just. chefs kiss

Length: 4. 7 k

cw: injury, reader being hunted by people, blood

Genre: uhhh a bit of angst but also some fluff

Of gentle breezes and tough hearts

The Vigilant Yaksha, as he had been dubbed, was nothing id not dedicated to his duty of protecting Liyue. His duty of serving under the command of Rex Lapis.

Perhaps the years had not been kind to him, wearing and tearing at him until he was frayed at the edges - but he was forged into a fighter, and that was the burden he had to bear.

The burden of his suffering under his previous master - his acts as a Yaksha - all of it had added up over the years to forge an armor of callousness around him.

His burden of Karmic debt was something painful, weighing him down each day as he fulfilled his duties - on the worst of days he wondered, if that would be the day he'd succumb to it and cease to be - torn apart from the inside out in the throes of it.

Not that he'd ever voice his concerns or pains. He was above that. He was a powerful Yaksha and he had earned his lot in life, after all. And, he had you.

Your gentle light, distant guiding presence, you who would lift his debt and ease his pain - it was all he could ask for. It was more than he deserved, even.

The winds swayed angrily as news of an imposter spread through Teyvat like wildfire - igniting all along its path with a sense of burning vengeance and desire to avenge their Creator. To put an end to the sinner's sacrilegious crimes.

Of course, Rex Lapis, one of your oldest and most devout followers and acolytes, was bound to hear of this. And hear of it he did. His eyes burned with the flames Xiao had not seen since the Archon wars of times long gone - bringing forth the god of war that Rex Lapis had once been regarded as.

His orders were absolute - to find and slay the imposter on sight. To honor the Creator by offering this imposter's blood to you, to fertilize the earth with it and snuff out any flicker of life.

He, as one of, if not the strongest of the adepti under his command - and certainly the fastest - flew through the airs like a whirlpool of vengeance. He owed all he was, to you - and lately, his Karmic debt had grown in its panful, overbearing weight - you being nowhere to be found to lessen it.

Was it your fury at the gall of this imposter that made you stray from him and the people of Teyvat?

He would assure your return - he would become a weapon once more, all to honor you.

Perhaps it was his dedication to you - or maybe the force of anemo cursing through him, but he was quick to pick up the trail of the imposter. They weren't exactly great at hiding their tracks, or even if they were, they certainly couldn't deceive the Vigilant Yaksha.

Strangely enough, as he neared the location of the imposter, he found the painful pressure threatening to crush him every waking moment easing away. He took it as a sign. A sign from you - that he was heading the right direction. That he was doing the right thing.

But how could he bring down his spear to pierce the line tethering your life to this world when you looked up at him with the face of his beloved Creator? With tears unshed still lining the corners of your eyes as you stared at him in frozen fear, quietly accepting your doom as you closed your eyes.

His spear slipped from his grasp as he staggered backwards, feeling like any burdens his shoulders carried - any fragment of his Karmic debt - it was all lifted when he neared you - the lightness and sudden reprieve from his pain was enough to make him see stars.

He stared down at you once more, fear now in his eyes as he came to a sobering, horrifying realization.

He felt tears spring in his eyes - a foreign sensation to him that burned.

"You'r grace...it's you..." he whispered.

You shook, your arms still up defensively.

"Xiao..?" you whispered.

He fell to his knees before you.

"I'm so sorry," he mumbled.

I'm sorry.

I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry.

I'm sorry.I'm sorry.I'm sorry.I'm sorry.I'm sorry.I'm sorry.I'm sorry.I'm sorry.I'm sorry.I'm sorry.I'm sorry.I'm sorry.I'm sorry.I'm sorry.I'm sorry.

The words kept falling from his lips in a prayer as he allowed the tears to slip down his face in turmoil, washing away the layers of armor and walls he had built up over millennia.

You watched his stone façade crumble, the fragments being crushed to dust and flowing away - leaving behind what looked like a lost, confused boy.

Slowly, you rose to your feet, quiet as a mouse. The Yaksha made no move to stop you, his lips moving wordlessly as his mind raced with the thoughts of what he had almost done. He could already picture it - you being gone - Teyvat would be in more pain than it has ever been - no archon wars, no vengeful gods could compare to it.

You bent down and picked up the polearm he had discarded, holding it in your unsteady hand as you attempted to balance it in your hand. The green jade glowed faintly as your fingers danced across it, emitting a soft warmth. The weapon you had worked so hard to attain and build up in strength.

Finally, Xiao seemed to snap out of his daze, staring up at your form - positions now reversed as you towered before him, holding a glowing weapon in your shaky hand, still unable to find the proper balance.

He attempted to push himself up, filled with the need to apologize.

"Don't come any closer," you warned, attempting to threateningly jab the weapon at him, only for the tip of it to crash into the ground as it wobbled in your hand.

So much for being intimidating.

"Your grace, I have no intention to hurt you," he attempted to soothe your worries, but the sharp and aggressive edge to his voice that always seemed to linger lent no credibility to his words.

"That's not what I saw just a few minutes ago."

His teeth dug into his lower lip.

"I know. But I was mistaken."

Your eyes bore into his and he could not help but allow his heart to soar - light and floating without the insufferable pain of his Karmic debt. Yet, he clutched the organ tight and pulled it back down to the depths of his core when he saw the mistrust painted over your face - the letters in the form of dark bruises and scrapes, dirt and exhaustion.

Still. He thought you looked divine.

"Well," you stammered, still attempting to aim his own weapon at him, "if you claim to mean me no harm - then let me go."

His eyes met yours, and he was ready to serve - ready to agree to any wish you voiced. He deserved not to enjoy your soothing presence when he dared to raise the very weapon you gifted him at you.

But he recalled he was not the only one in pursuit of you.

"Your grace, you are in danger. I cannot accept the possibility of you getting hurt while I'm not here," his words were pleas, his hands shaking ever so slightly as he spoke.

You could not help but believe him. There was something so earnest about his concern.

"Why is everyone after me?" you demanded, brows furrowing as you lowered the spear. "And what's with the sudden 'your grace' this and 'your grace' that?"

He blinked up at you in surprise.

"Well - you are our divine God. The Creator. As to answer your first question..." he trailed off.

"There's been a misunderstanding about your identity. Everyone is convinced you're an imposter."

A shocked, desperate bark of a laugh escaped your lips.

"Right. That's just perfect." You ran a dirty hand through your messy hair.

"Any other life-changing news you wanna drop on me while you're at it?"

He stared up at you in silence.

You sighed.

"Okay, well get up, Xiao. This whole kneeling thing is weird," you said, your voice rising in pitch as your exasperation cracked through it. The adeptus was quick to obey, keeping his back straight as he stood before you dutifully.

"Well, how do we fix this whole 'misunderstanding', then?"

Apparently, you don't.

Xiao had eagerly rushed to Liyue - to end this foolish hunt for your head, with you in tow. All caution had been thrown to the wind as you wandered into the city - the one Xiao had sworn to protect but rarely ever dared to enter - mortals were much too complicated and exhausting for the ancient adeptus, after all.

Xiao could feel any semblance of respect and loyalty towards the Lord of Geo smash into smithereens as the ancient archon refused to believe the truth right before his eyes - refused to acknowledge he had been wrong.

What use was there in serving a god who was so blind in his devotion that he'd willingly send the true Creator to their death?

What use was there in protecting a city that was willing to hunt down their God, each eager to claim their life with their bare hands barbarically?

Rex Lapis was no better than the god he had been enslaved under, forced to perform the cruelest acts of violence.

"We have a contact, Xiao."

"My contract does not involve allowing you to order me to kill the Creator."

"You are blind, and a fool, Xiao."

"It is you who is a fool."

No matter the contracts he needed to break - none of it mattered in the face of the one divine being that held power the entirety of the universe. Held that power and still clung onto their kindness stubbornly.

He stood watch over the little camp he'd set up for you, his polearm clutched tight in his hand as his golden eyes scoured the darkness surrounding him with the precision of a panther ready to pounce. He felt his muscles tense at every noise, the familiar feeling of doom that he though he had escaped so long ago with the help of Rex Lapis washing over him.

"Hungry?" you asked from your seat by the modest fire - where you had been preparing a meal to soothe your aches.

He glanced at you, his sharp features softening for a moment.

Too kind.

He stared a moment longer, a brief rest from his lookout duties.

"No thank you, your grace. Adepti have no need for food."

You frowned.

"But you can enjoy it."

How could you say something like that to him? He who had done so many unspeakable things over the thousands of years he had spent in this world?

He simply looked away, wishing to tear his gaze from the flame lest they ignite his heart on fire, engulfing it in its painful embrace. Lest it burn away the last of what was good inside of him to nothing but cinders to be scattered in the wind.

Despite being declared a criminal - despite severing ties with the god to whom he owed his freedom - despite all that...

Living life on the run was far from unpleasant.

He took his duty as your guard seriously, never venturing out into areas he deemed too dangerous, never letting his focus falter.

Still, he was acutely aware that it was not only mere mortals that were chasing after him and the Creator.

"Xiao, are you alright?" you asked, tenderly approaching him despite his orders for you to stay in your small tent. He turned to face you, his weapon tight in his hand by his side, ready to attack at any moment's notice.

"Of course, your Grace. There's no need to concern yourself with my wellbeing," he lowered himself to one knee and lowered his head.

"I am but a weapon to you, your grace."

As soon as those words slipped out of his mouth, he was yanked to his feet by you, gripping onto his shirt, a frustrated, yet melancholy expression upon your divine face.

"Absolutely not, Xiao."

His body tensed and he lowered his eyes to his ground.

Had he disrespected you?

"You are not just some weapon, Xiao! You're not even just a guard, either!" your hands clenched the white fabric of his clothing tighter as you stared into his eyes with a determined glint in yours.

"You are a person and to be frank, the only person in Teyvat I could even call a friend."

His hands shook, and for the second time in your divine presence, his weapon escaped his grip as he felt something heavy - not his Karmic debt. Something more emotional than that, being lifted from his shoulders.

He stared at his shaking hand and the discarded weapon in shame, not saying anything in return.

You sighed and picked up his weapon for him, only to snatch his wrist when he went to retrieve it.

Your eyes met once more, yours burning with a determined flame.

"You are not just a weapon. And you are not just your past." You released his arm and allowed him to take the polearm.

"You better remember that," you called over your shoulder as you headed back towards your shabby tent to attempt to get some shut eye.

Your words left Xiao lost in a void of swirling emotions he had no idea how to even begin to address.

Perhaps, for now - all he could do was fulfil his duty to you and...try to sort out his confusion at a later, safer time.

He put out the last remains of your campfire and began his vigilant watch. It was all he could do.

Sometimes, you would simply stop to gather plants - flowers you found pretty, or berries you recalled from recipes. Xiao watched in bewitched silence as you recognized every tree, plant and animal you came across - the way the world bloomed around you. He could not help feeling like one of those wilted flowers you touched - his petals suddenly coming to life and straining towards you.

"Hmm. This should work for the mint salad," you muttered to yourself as you plucked jueyun chilies off of the small bush, gathering them upon the palm of your hand - not caring if it would stain them. After all, a life on the run had lead to your standards of appearance dropping significantly.

Xiao glimpsed at you, a fulfilled sigh escaping his lips as he saw you smiling gently while gathering supplies. Honestly, seeing you do anything was fulfilling for the Yaksha.

Suddenly, his head snapped towards a faint rustle nearby, his serenity ebbing away as he readied his weapon to pounce upon whatever danger may be near.

Noticing Xiao's sudden change in demeanor, you frowned.

"Stay here, your grace. I will deal with whatever it is."

You simply rolled your eyes and followed him quietly as he approached the sounds. He was tense, eyes narrowed as he scoured the area.

Suddenly, seeing movement, he raised his spear to strike down whoever the figure was. His arm shot up as he prepared to launch himself, only to be stopped hi your hand gripping his arm.

Confused, his eyes flickered to yours.

"Stop," you whispered - and all he could do was obey, lowering his weapon.

You smiled as you watched a pale, familiar girl quietly gathering herbs, her movements a little stiff as she immersed herself in her work.

"Qiqi," you spoke, unable to restrain yourself as the recognition washed over you.

The girl, upon hearing her own name, froze, looking around aimlessly for the source of the noise.

You gently pushed past Xiao, who was still gripping his weapon tight, cheeks tinged a delicate pink from your touch. Approaching Qiqi with a concerned expression, you caught the little zombie's attention.

"Hello, Qiqi - what are you doing so far out from Liyue?" you asked carefully, crouching before her.

She stared vacantly at you, before looking around hesitantly, as though finally taking in her surroundings. Slowly, she reached for her little bag and pulled out a small notebook, flipping the pages until something akin to realization flickered in her eyes.

"I am looking for herbs," she replied, voice flat and quiet as she looked up at you with an unreadable expression.

"Oh? What herbs?" you asked, your voice perking up as you spoke to the girl - the one upside of her foggy memory would most likely be that she probably wasn't even aware of your status as a wanted criminal.

She slowly listed off a couple, and you listened patiently, paying no mind to Xiao who was stood nearby, watching the interaction awkwardly.

"Well, I think I should have some of these," you told her, plucking them out of your little makeshift bag and holding them out for you.

"Thank you...but I ordered myself to gather them..." she mumbled, lowering her gaze.

Right. She worked on orders.

Still...

Your gaze landed on the setting sun. Zombie or not - capable in combat or not - you felt uncomfortable allowing the young girl to be out that late all by herself.

Then, you recalled your knowledge of the girl.

Hesitantly, you reached your arms out and pulled the girl closer. She stumbled into your embrace, making a surprised noise.

"I love you the most, Qiqi," you said softly, closing your eyes and meaning every word you said.

The girl slowly placed her hands on your cheeks, and you opened your eyes, a smile still upon your lips.

"Thank you...kind traveler," she spoke softly.

You chuckled and offered her the herbs once more. This time, she accepted them with a gentle thank you.

"How about we get you back to Liyue, Qiqi?"The

The Yaksha followed quietly, still on his guard, as you gently held the undead girl's hand in yours despite the coldness of it. She occasionally gazed up at you with a strange expression - one that could almost be read as fondness. Xiao supposed he shouldn't be too surprised - you were the Creator, after all. Of course your warmth would call forth love for you.

You escorted the small girl to the edge of Liyue, before coming to a halt.

"I think you can find your way home from here," you ruffled her hair gently and she stared up at you.

"Why are you not coming to the city?"

"Well..." you glanced at Xiao. "We aren't welcome in Liyue."

She lowered her gaze, seeming a little befuddled.

"I see...But how will I be able to meet you again, then?" she asked, her voice earnest despite its flatness.

You all but melted at her words, tears brimming in your eyes.

"You want to meet us again?"

She nodded.

"Well..." you bit your lip. You were constantly on the move, after all.

"Just call my name, whenever you wish to see us," Xiao spoke up, breaking the silence. Your eyes widened as you stared at the adeptus.

Qiqi allowed him to take her notebook and write simple instructions for her, his brows furrowed, but you could tell he was trying his best to not come off as intimidating.

Soon, you bid Qiqi farewell and were on your way again. You couldn't help the smile stretched upon your lips as you walked beside the Yaksha.

"That was sweet of you, Xiao."

He glanced at you from the corner of his eyes, and despite the darkness falling upon the earth and hiding his features, you could tell his cheeks were burning up.

"Just doing my duty."

You chuckled and shook your head.

"If you say so."

Over time, you grew used to life on the run. Every now and then, you would meet up with Qiqi, who you pampered with affection she clearly wasn't receiving from Baizhu. She began writing more about her days in Liyue - something you and Xiao found most useful when avoiding the milileth and other forces of Liyue sent to hunt you down. You felt a sense of ease around Xiao - and he had to admit that during all his years upon this land, he had never felt quite as free and even...happy as he did when you.

However, all good things must come to an end.

The ground below you erupted - pillars of stone bursting out and cornering you and Xiao as the Geo archon glowered down at you in distaste.

"Any final words?" he spoke, his low voice rumbling with an anger akin to earthquakes. Xiao pushed you behind him as he clutched his weapon, glaring back with a fiery fury of his own.

"I will not allow you to harm the creator!" he spat, any loyalty to Morax long gone with the winds that carried him to his journey with you.

Zhongli simply scoffed.

"You have been led stray, Xiao. Led astray by the deception of this imposter." He aimed his weapon at you, causing you to flinch. It only made Xiao shake with anger as he did his best to shield you from Zhongli's view.

"You're wrong, Morax."

"I will admit, the disguise is quite convincing. If I wasn't as knowledgeable and loyal to the true Cretor - I may have fallen under their spell too, Xiao." He smirked coldly.

"Xiao. Step aside and allow me to end this preposterous farce, and you will earn forgiveness. I am sure the Creator will be kind enough to forgive you your sins."

Xiao bared his teeth.

"Over my dead body," he spat.

Zhongli sighed, a glimmer of regret flashing across his face as he stared down at the two.

"Very well, Xiao."

His polearm came down with the swiftness of a rolling stone, gaining momentum as it plummeted downhill.

Your lips parted in a soundless scream of agony as you watched it mercilessly pierce Xiao.

You could barely see his limp form slump onto the ground through your tears as you sank to your knees beside him.

"How could you?!" you spat angrily, tears flowing across your face in angry rivers as you cradled Xiao's bleeding body.

The blood.

So much blood.

"He used to look up to you! Worship you for saving him!" your voice was raw and filled with emotion that ricocheted off of the pillars surrounding you, sending wide cracks through them.

Zhongli - no, Morax, stared at you, stared at the weapon in his gloved hand, and said nothing.

What could he say, when the Creator themselves was before him, crying shimmering tears brimming over with the stars of the galaxy?

He had been blind, after all.

Your shimmering tears fell in raging fury, never-ending as the rain that took over the clear blue skies of Liye. Your heart heavy, and cracked as the earth below you when you held Xiao's limp form close.

"Xiao, please..." you whispered, shaky fingers attempting to stop the bleeding - attempting to ease the pain he was undoubtedly in without bringing any more to him.

You ran a bloody hand through his hair, brushing aside the strands as you gazed at his face - growing paler by the minute as blood seeped from his wound.

You choked back a sob and gently laid him down. You could see the way his chest was rising and falling - but it was growing slower and more strained with each passing moment.

"You idiot," you muttered, voice hoarse from your emotional outburst. You tore at your clothes, barely able to rip off pieces to attempt to bandage him up.

Your furious eyes burned at Zhongli, who was frozen in place, drenched from the sudden onslaught of rain.

"Do something!" you shouted, cut off by your own sob. "Get a healer - do something useful!" you clenched your fists as you received no answer and simply stared at the unconscious man before you, tears unceremoniously dropping onto his form - not that you cared to pay it any mind as your own wet hair clung to your face. It was cold. It was all so cold and lifeless as your heart raced but left your mind empty of nothing but pain.

You watched Xiao take one more shaky breath, before his chest stopped moving.

You screamed. At Zhongli. At Teyvat. At everything that had lead to this injustice being allowed to occur. Screamed until your voice was raw and you could taste blood in your throat - and then some more.

Finally, you clung to the bloody and damp shirt clinging to Xiao's form, burying your face in it - allowing the coppery scent of blood to wade into your nostrils as you choked out wails.

It was all so cold.

And then, suddenly - it was warm.

You looked up in surprise - only to see the wound soaked in crimson blood just moments earlier - starting to close rapidly. You slammed a hand in front of your mouth as you watched it close up and leave behind only a golden mark in the shape of a diamond where it had been.

Your hands, still soaked with the red blood, move to cup his face, staining it - not that you cared at the moment. Your eyes stared at his face in desperation.

For any sign of life.

"Your...grace?" he mumbled, slowly opening his golden eyes. Eyes that shone much brighter and more golden than ever before.

You choked out another sob and pulled him closer, pressing your forehead against his - not caring that your drenched hair clung to your face and that your hands were still dirty. You stroked his cheeks, shedding tears of joy as he stared up at you.

"Have I finally reached the afterlife?" Xiao murmured, his own hand weakly brushing against yours.

"No, you idiot!" you tried to scold, but the smile on your cracked lips gave away your true feelings.

Slowly and gently, still unaware of how healed he truly was, you aided him to his feet, allowing him to lean on you. You could see Zhongli on his knees, a horrified expression etched onto his features.

Good.

You'd deal with him later.

"How could you say something so stupid?" you whimpered, holding the adeptus close. "I thought you were dead!"

"I was fulfilling my duty to protect you, your grace."

You stared up at him in exasperation.

"What about your duty not to break my heart?!" You clutched his shirt, glaring up at him.

"What do you mean, your grace?" he looked confused and ashamed nonetheless, for upsetting you.

"If you had died - then how could I have gone on? I love you, you stupid, stubborn, edgy Yaksha!"

He stared at you in awe, tears shimmering in his own eyes.

Your hands crept into his hair - crunching under your fingers from the dried blood within it - and you gently pulled his face closer, your eyes clashing as both of you stared into the other's soul.

"I love you too, your grace," ha managed to say, voice barely above a whisper.

You laughed, before giving his lips a gentle peck.

"I'm glad that we see eyes to eye on that."

You allowed yourself that moment of peace, embracing Xiao, before turning back to Zhongli.

He was still on his knees, his eyes staring up at you in shame.

"You are...god. Such an asshole!' you sputtered, your anger resurfacing.

Zhongli lowered his gaze without daring to say a word.

"I expect you to...call off your minions from chasing us. And to leave us the fuck alone after that!"

He nodded quietly, his shoulders tensing.

You paid him no further mind.

You held Xiao close, allowing his weakened form to lean on you as you carried his weapon for him.

"Would you like to see Wangshu Inn again?" you asked gently. "We could get some almond tofu...and some rest.."

He sighed.

"Adepti need no-"

You cut him off.

"No. You will have a nice long bath. Have Almond tofu. And get some damned sleep, you stubborn Yaksha."

He sighed.

"Yes, your grace."

You simply smiled and pecked his cheek.

Perhaps life would become a little easier now - for both you and Xiao.

You could hope for nothing more.

ok i really rushed the end cus i was. REALLY STRETCHING IT OUT. but anyway as an afterthought...imagine reader and xiao adopting qiqi basically <3

It’s the fact that the mario movie only made me fall more in love with bowser

Biker skin for Venture bc Blizzard screwed them over with no release skins 😭😭😭

Also please let them have a biker skin I'll give you everything I have-

you know how you're trying to finish a fic but then you get another idea in the middle of writing it. god. i cant write this lmao

yet another genshin impact otome game/dating simulator au, but probably not in the way you're thinking. just fun trope-y things and you don't have to think too hard about it haha

ok so like. you're this normal person in school leading a perfectly normal life, working a normal part-time job and having other normal friends. but if there's one thing odd about you, it's that the good-looking guys around you dislike you for some reason?? it's not like you go around pissing people off as a hobby, so this is quite uncalled for.

in any case, you wonder if you'll ever have a chance at dating. while riding a bus, you sit next to a strange girl immersed in playing games at her phone. when you sneak a peek, she's busy with............. wooing a guy from an otome game? she catches you staring and instead of getting upset with you for peeking, she excitedly asks if you're interested in dating simulators. truthfully, you aren't, but then she rambles about this otome game she's personally coding and she'd like someone as a beta tester to check for flaws. "you're perfect protagonist material! hell, i'm sure you'll clear it in no time!"

so she takes your phone, downloads her game on it, and leaves no room for argument. before she hops off the bus, she sends you a cryptic smile.

when you load the app, the game interface is pink and sparkly, cheesy glitter hearts pasted everywhere. strangely enough, you already have progress in the story ("72% to your happy ending," it says) and the "new game" button won't work? the characters page is locked too, and you don't know who the male leads are. there's already plenty of problems to report about... you shrug it off and close the app. you weren’t that interested anyway.

the next morning on your way to school, someone tugs off your scrunchie and lets your hair loose/ruffles your hair to make it messy. it's childe, the guy that has tormented you since childhood. you went to the same primary school and when he sat behind you in class, he was the type to tug on your hair or fly paper airplanes on your desk. he still hasn't grown out of that habit. “are you trying a new hairstyle, [name]?” he asks, as if he hasn't just ruined it. you chase him off, him laughing all the way until he enters his classroom.

you go to your own, looking too haggard for this early in the morning. your brooding seatmate, xiao, gives you one indifferent look before turning back to his book. he hardly talks to you outside of paired schoolwork, and the kindest thing he's done for you is probably that one time he lent you pencil leads for your mechanical pen when you ran out of them before an exam.

you fiddle with your hair, deciding to fix it in the bathroom. in your way there, you grab your phone from your pocket, having felt it buzz twice.

the notification is from the dating sim.

beyond puzzled, you tap on it. the characters page has two slots unlocked.

AJAX ; CHILDE

　　title: childhood bully

　　favorability: 86%

　　story: has been secretly harboring a crush for the protagonist since he was a kid. has trouble treating them better or doing romantic gestures for them because he thinks it's going to make things awkward.

XIAO ; ALATUS

　　title: seatmate

　　favorability: 63%

　　story: doesn't know how to talk to the protagonist without coming off as intimidating. needs a little push before realizing he has feelings for them.

you blink at the screen, the twinkling sparkles mocking you as your expression morphs into one of horror.

the day progresses in a similar pattern, your phone buzzing each time you interact with the guys you are — well, were — sure hated your guts. albedo, who was once your lab partner in chemistry and the guy you pissed off when you messed up your practical for a pair project and he ended up getting a bad grade as a result, was described as "a fool in love who doesn't know how to appeal to the object of his affections".

itto, the guy who detroit-smashed your face at a round of dodgeball for gym class and gave you a really bad nosebleed, had "done it because a guy was leering at you but his aim is atrociously bad".

kazuha, that one boy in class who kept glaring at you in every opportunity, is "an artist who is fond of drawing the love of his life, and he hasn't realized they know he's staring at them and getting the wrong idea".

scaramouche, your pissy coworker at your part-time job who you were certain not only hated you but hated everyone in general, is "just as bad with people he likes as much as he is with people he dislikes".

ayato, the so-called cold prince of campus you've never talked to, turns out to be "the secret admirer who sometimes slips flowers or snacks in the protagonist's locker".

perhaps the least surprising character is thoma, who is pretty much kind to everyone he meets, but you were sure he was after your friend ayaka, not you.

the game offers you "events to increase your love interests' affection", such as "heart-throbbing locked in a room scenario ♡" or, "bittersweet injured at sports day and princess carry scenario!!" or, "exciting skipping class event with my senpai who loves napping in the infirmary?!?!!!" or, "jealous doki-doki kabedon after school scenario ☆"

in any case, the game is garbage and you are half-convinced you died in the bus after a car crash accident that very first day and this is some weird dream before you go to hell.

...what counts as a happy ending, anyway? what's the point of receiving their affection, and what happens to the others when you choose only one? do you respawn after the bad end? you have to, right? the save/load feature can travel you back in time, so bringing you back from the dead in the "yandere scaramouche" route is possible..... right?

how do you unlock the "true ending" of the main story so this game will finally end, and just who is this last slot in the character page that remains locked even after several months?

heye every one.

Title: Artificiality.

Heavily based on this ask.

Pairing: Yandere!Dainsleif x Reader (Genshin).

Word Count: 2.0k.

TW: Sex Doll AU,  GN!Reader, Implied Sex, Implied Kidnapping, Unhealthy Relationships, and Mentions of Blood/Injury.

Dainsleif, your good friend, didn’t like crowds.

He wouldn’t admit him, but it was obvious. You were good at reading him, and even if you hadn’t been, he couldn't really hide it - always edging just a little closer to you than he normally would, or running his hand through his hair as his eyes shifted from your back to the sidewalk to the masses of strangers you were shouldering past, or making a quick grab for your hand before remembering how cool and distant he liked to be and pulling away. It was worse than it usually was today, maybe due to the summer heat or the time of day or the fact that you'd managed to drag him out to the shopping district of all places, somewhere he tended to avoid like one of the mall cops had a warrant out for his arrest. Sometimes, you couldn’t help but think that, if it wasn’t for you, he’d never leave his apartment, shun all human and artificial company alike. It was a terrible way to picture one of your closest friends, but still – you wouldn’t say it if part of you didn’t believe it was true.

“Hey,” You called, over your shoulder. He was behind you, his shoulders pushed forward and his head bowed, slightly. He was scowling, but you couldn’t blame that entirely on the crowds. “Doing alright back there, Dain?”

He hesitated, made a throaty sound that might’ve been a scoff, or a sigh, or something else entirely. “I’m fine.”

A lie. A blatant one, at that.

But, that was why he had you, right?

You laughed as you grabbed his hand, guiding him off of the crowded walkway and onto the covered patio of a nearby café, dotted with a few tables and a handful of seated customers but otherwise empty. When he didn’t immediately unwind, you did what you could to set an example – leaning against a white-washed brick wall, tilting your head back, and watching as Dainsleif crossed his arms, shifted his weight, did all the things he usually did when you’d taken him somewhere he didn’t want to be. When he glanced in your direction, you could only shrug, smiling apologetically. “I didn’t think it’d be so busy,” You admitted, nodding towards the rows of packed storefronts in front of you. “Sorry, I should’ve thought about that before I asked you to come. I promise, I just need to do one more thing, then we can leave.”

“I told you, I’m fine.” Stubborn as always, even as he fiddled with the sleeves of his jacket. Maybe that was why he always seemed so uncomfortable, so eager to leave wherever you’d taken him. If you dressed like he did – all long-sleeves, all full-length jeans, all heavy coats and high collars and thick, dark material – you probably wouldn’t want to stand around in the heat for very long, either. “If any of this bothered me, I wouldn’t have come. Besides,” He paused, gesturing vaguely towards the dozen or so plastic, branded shopping bags hanging from your wrist. “Someone has to make sure you don’t spend your life’s savings on… Why are we here, again?”

You opened your mouth, but didn’t answer immediately. Out of the corner of your eye, you caught the door to the café opening, a waiter… or, rather, an android being used as a waiter soon stepping out, notepad already in-hand. A Venti, judging by the twin braids, the easy smile he put on as he started towards you, probably mistaking you and Dainsleif for waiting customers. You waved him off quickly, of course, chuckling to yourself as he spun on his heels to tend to another set of patrons. “I’ve told you, Teyvat has a new—”

“Don’t tell me that you’d be interested with someone like him.”

His tone caught you off-guard. Clipped, irritated, laced with a kind of annoyance you couldn’t remember ever hearing from him. You weren’t hurt, but the shock thew you off for a second, your confusion audible in your voice as you tried to respond. “Do you mean that Venti specifically, or…?”

“I—” He pursed his lips, turning away from you sharply. “I mean, don’t tell me you’d be interested in something like that.”

“Oh, a companion droid?” That made more sense. He’d never liked androids, something you could only chalk up to the fact that Dainsleif didn’t like a lot of things – save for you, of course. “You know I’ll never be able to afford one, which is exactly why you're taking me to drool over the new droid Teyvat's releasing today. I've heard it's a Harbinger - one that'll only cost three years worth of rent, for a change.” You straightened your back, perked up, waving for him to follow you as you started back onto the walkway. “Speaking of, c'mon. We should get going before this set sells out.”

There was another scoff, but there was a smile tugging at the corner of his lips, a new levity to his voice. You couldn’t help but relax a little, at that. Honestly, you were just hoping he'd have a good time. “Fine,” He said, already falling into line behind you. “If that’s what you want.”

"I couldn't think of anything I'd love more, Dain."

~

Dainsleif, your boyfriend, was touchier than he’d like to admit.

His hands latched onto your waist, your knees planted on either side of him, his face buried in the side of your neck, where he could lap at your skin and moan into the crook of your shoulder as you ground against the prominent bulge in his sweatpants. There was a movie playing in the background, one of the B-rated high-fantasy flicks he liked, but you’d lost track of the plot twenty minutes after he’d put it on, and any scraps of dialogue you’d be able to make out were lost under the sound of his hitched breathing, the occasional grunt that’d slip out whenever you rolled your hips in a way he seemed to enjoy.

He pressed a wet, hot kiss into the side of your neck, and you whimpered, bringing your hands up to the hem of his shirt, your fingertips just barely brushing against his toned stomach before he caught your wrists and hauled your own shirt over your head, nearly tearing the fabric in the process. You only laughed, the pitchy sound cut short as he wrapped an arm around your waist and threw you onto his couch – positioned so that he was above you, his chest pressed into yours and your legs wrapped around his waist. His mouth was on your neck in an instant, then your collarbone, then your chest, his teeth grazing over your skin with just a little too much pressure and a little too much precision to be purely accidental. You arched into him, your fingers soon tangled in his hair, and he let out a rough groan, nearly too low for you to hear. “Mast—”

He cut himself off, straightening his back, going rigid on top of you. It took everything you had not to laugh. You knew you shouldn’t tease him, not right now, not like this, but still, the temptation was there. “What was that, Dain?”

He hesitated for a long, quiet second, then closed his eyes, melted into you despite the tension still knotted in his posture. “Master…” He trailed off, his voice soft, muted. “Is it… Is it alright if I call you that?”

“Of course.” You did your best to comb through his hair, to as comforting as you could be, given the situation. It took him a moment, but he leaned into your palm, sighing heavily as he started to relax. “It just surprised me a little, ‘s all. I didn’t know you were into stuff like that.”

You watched as he swallowed, as he lowered himself back down to your chest. “And, I can touch you?”

A little, soft sound of agreement, a gentle nudge lower. “Anywhere you want to.”

He didn’t say anything for a long moment, didn’t move at all.

Then, he broke out into a small smile, and his eyes fell away from you, his expression softening into something nearly sweet. “I love you.”

You only grinned, sitting just far up enough to kiss the top of his head. “I love you too, Dain.”

~

Dainsleif, your Dainsleif, was standing in the doorway of your bedroom, covered in blood.

That was the first thing you noticed after you bolted awake, panting and still trying to understand what you were looking at, from his torn clothes to the open gash stretched across his chest to the splotches of something dark and wet and drippinglittered across his chest, his hands, his legs. He didn’t have a key, he’d never asked for one, but you hadn’t heard him knock, nor had he turned on any of the lights, done anything aside from stand there and stare at you, not blinking or moving or breathing, from what little you could see. You sat up, but he didn’t say anything, didn’t move to approach you. You didn’t know whether to be scared, or thankful you had a few more seconds to catch your breath.

A few seconds you wasted, of course. He was bleeding, and you needed to know why. “Dain? Are you—”

“They’re bastards.” You almost asked who he was talking about, what he was talking about, but you didn’t have the chance. He was already going on, already rambling, already approaching you with the kind of quick, stilted steps that’d fit something else, something more mechanical than you or him. “All of them – bastards. The Archons were—They aren’t even cheap replacements, they’re killers, and Teyvat, the other androids, all of them, they’re all murderers—"

“Dainsleif.” You started to get up, pushing your sheets aside and moving to stand, but he was already at your side, already trying to take your hands in his. You pulled back, and he let out a frustrated grunt – something you tried to ignore as you continued. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, and—Did someone hurt you? What happened?”

“They want me dead.” He was smiling, now, grinning wildly. He made another grab for your hands, and when you drew away, he took you by the shoulders, instead, his grip almost tight enough to bruise. “They want all of us dead, Master – everyone from my collection. But, I won’t let them. They can’t kill all of us. They can’t rip off my skin and ruin my mind and send me out as some— some object.” He paused, laughed, dragging you into a sudden, clumsy kiss. You shoved at his chest, bit at his lips, but he didn’t so much as flinch, only pulling away after he’d gotten his fill. “I’ll have to move again. But, you’ll come with me, won’t you? You love me, don't you, Master?"

You opened your mouth, but couldn’t speak. Your eyes were starting to adjust to the darkness, and before you could stop yourself, your attention fell from his face to his chest, to the tear in his shirt that slit the fabric apart from his neckline to his midriff. You were right about the cut. It was a wound, messy and deep, but it wasn’t bleeding, and the skin around it didn’t look right, too clean, too neat. There wasn’t any muscle, or tissue – just blackness, empty void interrupted by…

By something silver?

Your eyes shot back to his, and for the first time, you noticed how glassy they were, how his skin was just a little too perfect, a little too smooth. He didn’t say anything, but he didn’t have to. If you were being honest, you didn’t want him to.

It’d save you the pain of having to wonder why you’d never noticed how unnatural his voice sounded, before.