Honkai Star Rail X Reader - Tumblr Posts - Page 3

YOUR MAN who punishes you mercilessly whenever you show him your brattiness. he can't have you showing such attitude towards him can he? he's living his best life pressing your head against the pillows to muffle your lewd moans as he fucks you from behind with your ass up. "not so bratty now, huh? c'mon baby, show me that attitude of yours." he chuckles, the grip he had on your hips becoming tighter by the minute. his cock drilling into your pussy so deep your legs were failing you. tears forming in the corner of your eyes.

"such a slut f'me." he groans, bending down to whisper filthy words. he secretly loved it when you act all mighty because he knows he'd be fucking your brains out by the end of the night. your moans grew louder with each thrust, the way his cock bullied your tight hole was addicting. "good girl. im gonna fuckin' ruin you." he threatens, his pace getting more intense. oh he'll show you who you belonged to, alright. no need to worry your pretty head about anything and let him use you for as long as he wanted. yeah?

DR RATIO, blade, aventurine, BOOTHILL, sunday / childe, SCARAMOUCHE, wriothesley, KAEYA / TOJI, gojo, GETO

BRO'S THE TYPE TO ?????

fx — i love this LMFAO 😭 nsfw undertones.

BLADE ᡣ𐭩

— bro's the type to kiss you on the neck from behind for everytime you busy yourself over your lil tasks and startle you after you thought he wasn't going to be around today.

— bro's the type to continuously praise you with sweet words during it because how could he not? you always take him so well and he could never get over how good you feel ᡣ𐭩

— bro's the type to hungrily kiss you until you have to forcefully pull him away with your entire strength because you couldn't breathe. and after you're done chasing your breath, he'll do it all over again :3

— bro's the type to be extremely gentle with you and talk to you in a soft spoker manner <3 no matter the situation, wether it's him scolding you for your carelessness on the battlefield or him getting upset with you, he'd never raise his voice at you.

— bro's the type to plot something insane against someone who was rude to you in any way and talk to them face to face when he convinces you to buy whatever you want and come back to him after 15 minutes. enough time to threaten the guy's entire bloodline.

— bro's the type to constantly have a hand against your thigh whenever he sits beside you. no matter where you are, his hand will always find their way to them.

DAN HENG ᡣ𐭩

— bro's the type to read books to you to help you fall asleep as you rest your head against his shoulder.

— bro's the type to wait until you fall asleep before he does to make sure you're getting proper rest.

— bro's the type whose stern expression softens every time he's in your company, for your presence was the only thing that could help him relax.

— bro's the type to love being under you during intimate moments, letting you do all the work with pleasuring him until you ask him to top u <3

— bro's the type to shut you up with a kiss when you're scolding him about his battle wounds then walk away like nothing happened.

— bro's the type to let you sit cutely on his lap and watch you do his makeup or play with his hair while you tell him all about your week. it's you, after all.

GEPARD ᡣ𐭩

— bro's the type to cuddle with you in a way his ear is pressed against your chest so he could hear your heartbeats.

— bro's the type to get all red when you tease or plant kisses all over his face whenever he's on duty with the silvermane guards, he swears he could hear them snickering.

— bro's the type to hold the small of your back everytime you walk together.

— bro's the type to slightly tear up in bed when you ride him because it's all too much but you just feel sooo good and hear you mutter lustful words to his ear that causes him to come with a small cry :((

— bro's the type to defend your name when people carelessly talk shit about you, sometimes he'd hold that grudge forever even if you tell him that it's okay. because it's not !!

WRAPPED AROUND YOUR FINGER jing yuan x afab!reader

word count : 1.1k

includes : fluff, suggestive, making out, smug and teasing jing yuan, cutie yanqing

summary : being the general’s secretary is such a piece of work. why does he insist on getting handsy instead of doing his job? or: in which jing yuan has fallen for his emotionally constipated assistant and your lips look too inviting.

a/n: DISCLAIMERRR!!!! as a poc with melanin, whenever i describe the reader’s face as “hot” that is up for interpretation, it doesn’t necessarily mean i’m saying your cheeks are red. just wanted to put that out there have this piece until i can try to conjure up ideas for weak willed cloud knight mwah mwah

“general.” you enter the room with a stack of papers in hand, trying your best not to groan when you already see a pile of undone paperworks sitting there. you expected as much, yet you still sighed in disappointment every time.

your general— who was on the verge of falling asleep— immediately perks up at the familiar click of your shoes as you walk into his office.

“[name], you’re here,” he sighs out, almost fondly. you ignore it in favor of giving him a scolding look.

“you haven’t done a thing since i left this morning, general. do i need to hold your hand through every single file?” your eyes are fierce and your mouth is molded into a frown. jing yuan can’t help but savor your features despite that.

in response to you, he mutters out wistfully, “maybe you do.”

you roll your eyes and set down his papers, right next to the other stack. “general, you can’t keep slacking off like this. lady fu xuan might sweep your position from right under your nose if you keep this up.”

“does that mean i get to spend all of my free time with you?” he ignores your words in favor of bringing you in by the waist. you grip his wrist and try your hardest to pry it off of you.

“don’t you do that already?!” your expression is flushed and he revels in it. even though you try to act and look angry, he notices the subtle way you lean into him.

he reels you into him, bringing you around his desk to where he’s sitting behind in his chair, making you stand between his legs. you’re tugged into his chest and you stop yourself from toppling into his lap by hastily pressing your hands against his collarbones.

“general! you are so inappropriate!!” your tone is scolding.

jing yuan sighs, a faux look of sorrow painting his features, “didn’t i tell you to call me jing yuan?” his voice has a small adoring tone to it, something that you don’t feel like digging deep into at the moment, aware of what you might uncover.

“didnt i tell you that’s improper of me? i’m your subordinate. what would people think if i called you by your given name? they’d suspect you favor me.” you shook your head in exasperation, sighing once more— you seemed to do that a lot in his presence.

“but you are my favorite, if they suspected anything of the sort they’d be absolutely correct,” he says, tugging on your formal wear. you stammer, putting your hand over his in a feeble way to stop him.

“could you shut up for once?!” you exclaim, yet in a whispery voice in fear of others who walk by hear.

“hmm?” he asks slyly, a smirk curling his lips.

“d—do your damn work! if you do, i promise to call you by your name.” by your face expression, jing yuan could tell this is taking a lot out of you and you’re extremely embarrassed. he would feel bad if he didn’t find you so adorable.

“will you let me kiss you, too?” he leans up into your lips.

“that’s definitely asking for too much!!!” you exclaim, face hot, and no longer worried about who might be outside this door.

but as he rubs circles into the fabric of your clothing, his breath hitting your cheeks, his lips nearing yours by the moment, your will is beginning to falter. before you can even realize what you’re doing, your eyes are slipping shut as your hands are sliding up to his shoulders.

“after this i’ll do my work, okay? i promise,” jing yuan whispers. from that alone, you’re nearly broken out of your trance, but before a word is able to leave your mouth his lips lock with yours.

he’s humming into the kiss, showing his obvious satisfaction. your face is warm and you reciprocate the kiss eagerly, almost embarrassed by the fervor.

you were really kissing your general.

he was nibbling your lips, pinching your waist to get access to your mouth, making your mind mush. you couldn’t believe this was happening.

jing yuan is stealing the breath straight from your lungs, and they’re replaced with breathy whimpers. his tongue is leaving no place in your mouth untouched, but by then, you’re already putty in his hold.

you cant conjure up a single coherent thought, all protests from before becoming blurred and pushed to the back of your mind. his hand is at the seams of your top, his cold fingertips ghosting under it to ease his hands onto your warm skin. you shiver in anticipation.

his thumb rubs your waist before it slowly trails up to the fringe of your bra. he’s caressing the skin under it slowly, building you up for the moment his hand ventures under. you’re leaning into him further, trying to subtly goad him into giving in.

he smirks into the kiss, thumb sliding under the hem. but a loud, eager knock makes you both jolt apart.

before you can even comprehend the situation fully, you’re already backing away from him and adjusting your clothing, smoothening everything over.

jing yuan is watching you fondly, a tinge of smugness swimming beneath his eyes.

“state your name and business.” he calls out, eyes still on you.

“it’s yanqing, sir!”

you’re making eye contact with him now, your expression filled with flushed fury. “i cant believe you!” you whisper shouted before grabbing the small hand mirror that yanqing left on his desk to check your appearance.

your eyes nearly bulge out of your sockets once you catch sight of your swollen lips. “y—you..! how— i..!!! ugh!!!” you sputter, pointing between yourself and your general before giving up.

your general does nothing but chuckle at your misery. “i got too carried away.”

“don’t you always!?” you growl, your finger against your lips as you somehow try to get rid of the red puffiness.

“general?” yanqing calls from outside.

due to your conversation, you both nearly forgot he was even there.

before jing yuan could call him in, you’re stalking towards the door. your hand grabs the handle, but before you pull it open, you look back to your general who’s smirking. “you better do your work, jing yuan. or this will never happen again!” you both sensed the lie in your tone, but one of you was too surprised to point it out.

you were only given a mere second to revel in his baffled look before you walked out, letting yanqing in.

“[name]!” yanqing calls happily. “can i come over to your place tonight?” he asks, face glowing.

you smile, patting his head. “of course you can. i’ll cook your favorite too, alright?”

yanqing cheers, “alright!! i’ll train as hard as i can, so can you please make dessert too?”

you give him a noise of confirmation, smiling at his joy before you’re walking off.

jing yuan could only watch the scene in envy, glaring down yanqing as he practically skips into the office humming a tune of “[name]’s making me dessert~”.

yanqing turns to his general, brow quirking at his troubled expression.

“what got your panties in a twist?”

“nothing.” he grits out. you had the audacity to call him by his name in your beautiful alluring voice, and invite yanqing to your house, in front of him!! next time he saw you it was more than your lips he was taking for his own.

a/n : anyone wanna be added to my jing yuan taglist? he’s been growing on me a lot so expect more of him too ^v^

⌗︙・ sneaking off with caelus for quickies ♡⸝⸝

Caelus is sometimes too horny for his own good, golden eyes filled with nothing but debaucherous visions as he undresses you with his eyes. When he wasn't fighting alongside you or running around completing missions left and right, he'd come up with some half-assed excuse regarding the Antimatter Legion before dragging you off to some unoccupied corner and fulfilling his lewd fantasies. He was a pure menace, groping your ass from behind just out of view from the others, frustrating you to no end when he refused to touch you any further. Not at least until you found an opportunity to sneak off.

But you were no saint, not with how you sloppily drooled all over his cock as he fucked your throat, or how eagerly you'd grind down onto his pelvis as you rode him in the privacy of your room. But who could blame you for acting in such a desperate way? Caelus' cock was just so good, fat head and length pressing against your walls in all the right ways that had you cumming rather embarrassingly quickly. He'd always cum in thick, creamy globs that painted your insides white and left your belly feeling warm and heavy. He was a fast learner, learning each of your weak spots with a scarily quick eagerness that left you breathless.

So it wasn't really too much of a surprise with how often you snuck away on missions just to fuck in some unlit alleyway.

"They're probably looking for us... I bet they're worried since we've been gone for a while. " You huff, raising your head to look at Caelus, his face mere inches from yours. He takes a gulp of air before nodding in agreement, no doubt having the same concern as you.

"Yeah... March is probably dragging Dan Heng by the ear. We should really hurry up." His brow furrows, looking simultaneously troubled and amused at the thought of the former dragging around the stoic male as if he were some sort of rag doll.

Even if the two of you are sharing the same concern, it was clearly juxtaposed by neither one of you making the effort to wrap up your little activity as quickly as possible. Although, little activity was a bit of a damn understatement when you had Caelus' cock sheathed inside your hole, back against the dingy wall of the alleyway as he moves his hips against yours over and over. Your arms and legs are locked around his body, doing your best to keep from falling and sliding down the wall. But Caelus has a good grip on your ass—he's a lot stronger than he looks—and his hips sure aren't going to be slowing down anytime soon.

"Fuuuck, s'so deep, so fucking good.." You whine into his neck, biting back a moan as his balls smack noisily against your skin. He's got so much vigor in each of his thrusts, pelvis pressed as close as possible to yours in such a confined position. You don't know how long the two of you have been at this, but you know it's long enough to have his cum leaking out, staining the ground below in gooey droplets. "Fuck me—ooh!—right there, right there, fuck me harder—oh god!"

Caelus chokes out a moan—you were so fucking tight—sucking in a shaky breath as he continues to pound into you. "Didn't you just tell me to hurry up? What changed your mind? Do you like my dick that much?" You can hear the smirk in his voice, though it wavers with each flutter and pulsing of your walls around his length. God he was such a little shit.

"Just shut up already.." You slam your lips against his without warning, moaning in a mix of relief and ecstasy. He makes a slight noise of surprise, but, given how often you'd dodge his postcoital affections, you don't blame him. But right now, you could care less if he happens to get to the wrong idea about you kissing him—or perhaps, a small part of you deep down wants Caelus to get the wrong idea.

The two of you melt into the kiss, teeth gnashing noisily and tongues entangling and rubbing up against one another as you both cling onto each other. Soon, drool begins to streak across your lips and chin—fuck, kissing Caelus felt so damn good, why didn't you do it before?—as warm pressure builds up in your lower stomach. His plush tip keeps pushing up against your oversensitive walls, the pulsing veins on the side of his cock stimulating you further and further.

But soon the lack of oxygen proves to be too much, and the messy kiss is broken apart. Strings of saliva stick to your tongue, but a bolt of pleasure shoots through you and you rest your head against the wall of the alley. With your neck exposed to him, you whine his name over and over like a chant, his entire being overwhelming you in waves.

"Caelus, Caelus, Caelus, Caelus...!"

Caelus' hips give a final thrust, the veins on his fat cock twitching and pulsing as he spills himself inside of your walls until even more droplets begin to ooze out. Reflexively, he immediately starts kissing your neck, mouth sloppily fitting against your rapid pulse, but this time you don't stop him. It feels ticklish, but surprisingly helping in lowering you from your high. He doesn't pull out until he's pumped out every last drop, although the way your walls calmp around him ends up squeezing out a few more drops anyways. You both shudder, the sudden emptiness in you and the lack of warmth around him a bit too much.

As if on cue, the cum that hadn't been oozing from your hole thanks to Caelus plugging you up nice and tight, now trickles out. A part of you is disappointed to not have it stay deep inside, but you're too out of it to do anything about it.

Your legs begin to slip, but Caelus seems to notice and aids in lowering you down. As soon as your feet touch the ground, you nearly double over but he catches you, choosing to lean you against him for support. With your head against his chest, you can feel the warmth of his body, each inhale and exhale he takes, and the beating of his heart.

The alleyway is filled with soft pants, concealed from any prying eyes. Like your own little world, just the two of you. It's... rather nice in a way.

"We're... we're gonna continue this when we get back to the Express, got it?" Of course you will. The two of you are as horny as rabbits, and quickies would only keep you both temporarily satisfied. But you could bet that if he found the opportunity, he'd sneak into your room. Again. "My back's killing me, I think you just scraped off my damn skin... I'd like my back to remain injury-free while getting dicked down thank you very much."

"Fine by me. I'd prefer to fuck you on your bed anyway." He snorts in amusement, a sliver of a smirk on his lips as he playfully squeezes your ass. You squeak and flinch at the ticklish sensation, to which he chuckles. "Not that I've got anything against doing this in an alleyway. It's actually kinda hot."

"Shut up and help me put my underwear back on."

© latimeriafellfromheaven

Admiral, the general is touch-deprived.

✧ jing yuan x gn!reader

✧ based on the ask: "Please do one if you haven’t where Jing Yuan is severely down bad for reader and makes it known to everyone and they are just done with him"

✧ content: established relationship, fluff, make-out scene, humor, mentions of other characters

✧ a/n: where did almost 100 of you come- bless this ask for making me write needy jing yuan i love you. not beta-read again anyway buckle up this is another one of unfiltered shame for my love for one mere general with a silly thunder lord that he nicknamed shin-kun in the jp dub because the official title was way too long for this old man.

this was written in a google doc on the phone since I'm on vacation so I apologize if the formatting is messier than the first post 🫡

There's tension in the air.

"... As for Stargazer Navidia, there seems to be another onslaught of mara-struck cloud knights making their way within the area in the next few days. I'll appoint Lieutenant Yanqing to lead a few troops there by the next hour, but be sure to send a messenger cycrane if the situation gets too out of hand or you need to divide the troops up to cover more ground."

You hear a loud "Yes!" as you flip over to the next page, quickly scanning through the documents contents, purposefully ignoring the tension in the air, muttering the details lowly to yourself with a furrowed eyebrow.

It's the sort of tension you wish everyone just ignored, even though it's more difficult than it sounds.

Perhaps being fed up with your avoidance of ignoring the elephant in the room, one of the captains of the Knights loudly cough into the air before meekly addressing you, "Admiral [Name]?"

"Yes?" you look up with a smile, cocking your head to the side. A small gesture to ensure the captain that they have your full attention which makes the knight before you quickly glance to the side and away from you, although that didn't help the pair of eyes boring a hole into the side of his head, "The general…" he starts, coughing once again while glancing back and forth at you and the weapons displayed at the seat of Divine Foresight, "... Would very much like your attention, it seems."

As if on cue, the arms that were wrapped around your waist squeeze a bit tighter than normal. The sudden pressure makes you let out a grunt of surprise while Qingzu lets out another exhausted sigh. Meanwhile you glance down to lock eyes with Jing Yuan, who very much is staring at you with a small pout evident on his lips, "Oh so my darling has finally acknowledged my existence?" he jokes with a grin, meanwhile you merely stare down back at him with a neutral expression before resting your left arm carrying the paperwork on his gray head. The general uses the opportunity to nuzzle his face into your waist, playfully biting into an exposed part of your skin from where his hand had wormed itself underneath your shirt, making you squirm away from him, to which he immediately grabs your back into his hold.

"If you haven't noticed dear, you're practically leeching onto me to the point I can't even stand at my usual side, that is to per say in front of the desk and not literally quite next to you and within your arms." You whisper to him gently. Flicking his forehead before whipping your head around to address the Cloud Knights before your husband can say anything in his defense.

You ignore the looks of disbelief on some of the soldiers' faces.

"I apologize for the awkwardness this position may cause, I can only hope for your understanding being that I've been away from the Luofu for a few months helping Marshal Fua with some matters at her fleet. I've only recently come back." you explain, gesturing Qingzu over to hand over the paperwork to her before waving your hand with a guilty smile, "You're all dismissed, please be safe out there."

"Lady Fu Xuan, how may I be of assis-"

"Are you two arguing or something?" Fu Xuan interrupts before you can even finish your sentence which leaves you staring wide eyed at her with your mouth agape, "Pardon? I'm not quite sure who you're referring to-"

"The general. I'm referring to general Jing Yuan, who else would I be referring to? He sits around the seat of Divine Foresight like a kicked puppy. Which makes it even harder to get any information in OR to him because he's not even mentally present! Can you fix him? Wonderful! Let's make haste to the seat."

You're not even allowed to finish your cup of tea or give an answer before the divination commissioner grabs you by the forearms and drags you out of the teahouse.

"Jing-" you haven't even taken one step into the seat of Divine Foresight before you're surrounded by the familiar scent of your husband. A gentle hand placed by your head while an arm is tightly wound around your waist. You can practically feel the smile of utter glee on Jing Yuan's lips as he buries his face into your hair.

"Darling, I thought you had the day off today?" he mutters into your hair, sounding a bit too happy to have you in his arms again to the point he's ignoring the death glares from Fu Xuan besides you, the divination commissioner just wanting to do her part of keeping the Luofu afloat.

"I was having my day off, before Lady Fu Xuan here dragged me out because someone didn't-" you struggle free to nag at him, but your husband merely smiles softly at you before lifting your chin to give you a quick kiss, "Now that you're here I feel more energized than ever, let me finish the paperwork for today and I'll join you, we can even play a round of starchess." he suggests.

You can practically sense Fu Xuan roll her eyes in disgust, able to hear her mutter about a "lovesick fool" before walking past the two of you, Jing Yuan merely grabbing your hand to lead you towards the seat.

So much for a day off.

You can't breathe.

"Jing-" another press of his lips onto yours as you find yourself pressed on the wall beside the door, "Yanqing-" you manage to breathe out when finally able to pull a tiny bit away from him. Pressing your hand over whatever surface of his face you can reach to try to shove him away, your other hand occupied with bracing itself against the wall.

Your husband ignores your literal hand on his face, somehow having more strength to still slant his lips across your own despite your efforts, the hand he has behind your head pushing you further against him while he shoves a leg between your own to keep you still, "Train-"

There's a rather loud set of knocks on your bedroom door followed by an exasperated sigh coming from behind it, which makes you freeze but Jing Yuan ignores it, sliding his tongue over your teeth while you resign yourself to slam your fist repeatedly on his back to get him to back off.

"General! I know you missed [Name] a lot during the months they were away from the Luofu, but you know that today is supposed to be a training day!" Yanqing shouts from behind the door, and you feel sorry over the realization he's aware of what's happening beyond it.

Feeling sorry enough for Yanqing whose probably already waited 15 minutes before knocking at the door, you muster whatever little strength you have left against your husband's addictive lips to grab his ponytail and yank him off and away from you.

Jing Yuan merely grunts in irritation, looking at you with a glare and swollen lips, but you ignore him. Opening the door before Jing Yuan can grab you again and giving Yanqing an apologetic look, "I tried-"

"It's better than last time, at least." He points out to which you merely sigh before opening the door wider, "I'll give you more pocket money this month, how's that for compensation?" You suggest, shoving your husband out the door before he do anything else, Yanqing smiling in triumph at your generosity.

"You're the best! Give me extra if I manage to land a few hits on the general?"

"5 more than usual and I'll give you an extra thousand." You settle, tapping Jing Yuan on the shoulder. Your husband turns around to face you with a hum, and you lean in to peck him on the cheek, gliding your lips over to his ear, "If you're a bit nicer to him today you'll also get a reward."

Needless to say, there were two very happy boys onboard the Luofu at the end of the day.

x : TO LOVE, TO CHANGE: *+ﾟ

in which: you tell veritas you love him. he gets upset with you.

warnings: contrary to what the synopsis implies, it's fluff, i promise. 1k words, first time saying ily, slightly cranky reader, no mentions of reader's gender, dr. ratio being so in love he becomes so soppy and lovestruck. confessions.

a/n: there's a phenomenon that happens whenever i write for dr. ratio, and it's that my heart literally lunges out of my chest and begins typing at the keyboard for me. i should get it checked out. anyways, this is to preemptively celebrate his release!!

“Why- why are you mad?” You exclaim, watching the way Veritas crosses his arms and pouts with the petulance of a child. His gaze has strayed away from your eyes, and all you can do is sit in his lap with your arms hanging at your sides, brain tirelessly racking for all the reasons that you could have angered him.

He doesn’t give you any clues, displeasure brewing in his eyes instead.

“Is it because I said ‘I love you’?”

The purple haired scoffs and sticks up his nose, hair bouncing with his actions whilst you jostle slightly on his legs from the quick action. As much as you love his side profile, you’d love it even more if he spoke to you about what is bothering him.

During this moment, the world stills. You think he’s genuinely mad, and Dr. Ratio’s fury-driven state is not something you should take lightly. Really, you’ve seen it multiple times, and though it has never been directed at you, you hope it never will be. Which is why you sit on his lap now, tensely anticipating his response, and for the answer as to what you did wrong. 

“I was meant to say it first,” he grumbles, losing the arrogance that fills his tone whenever he speaks, air filling with sincerity. 

“Excuse me?”

“You heard me. I was meant to be the one to say ‘I love you’ first.”

Your confusion is tangible at this point. Audible, if you will, because it rings like cicada sing. “Are you being serious?”

“Deadly.”

“You- why, then couldn’t you just have said it?” You sputter, slapping his defined deltoid, concern slowly melting into frustration. “Need I remind you that it was me who confessed to you first as well?”

“Yes, and it was positively the best day of my life.” He says that like it’s a simple fact. No sentiment, no heartfelt declaration, just another logical statement straight from a textbook of his life.

They say to be loved is to be changed, but no matter how much you love Veritas, all he knows is how to be an astronomical pain in your ass. Does he know how scared you were for his answer? You thought you did something unforgivable, or that he didn’t love you enough to respond in kind, or worst of all, that he wanted nothing to do with you anymore?

However, he's acting petty because he was not the first one to say those three words? You frankly don’t know why your heart beats for him as strongly as it does. In fact, you want to whack him over the head with his own codex.  

Placing your hands firmly on his shoulders, you shuffle out of your position from his lap, planting your feet onto the ground. “Oh, you are so infuriating! Pretend I never said anything, I’m going back to my office until you-”

Not even two steps away from him and a hand clasps around your wrist to drag you back to where you started: on Dr. Ratio’s lap. His arms come to wrap around you like chains, leaving no room to wrestle him out.

“I never said you could leave. Especially not after telling me you love me,” he grumbles lowly into your collarbone, breath tickling your skin.

“I’m starting to regret it.” 

“Can’t you at least say it again?”

“I don’t want to,” you grumble, arms snaking up to rest around his shoulders. “You don’t deserve it.” 

“Well, that’s a little harsh. Is this how you treat the ones you love?”

“You haven’t even said anything back,” you pinch his skin. “Talk about harsh.”

“Do you remember the first time we met?” he asks with a fond chuckle, not missing the opportunity to leave kisses in a trail along your skin, making his way up your neck. Then, when his eyes meet yours, you almost crumble in embarrassment at the memory he’s injected into your mind. 

You push him away and raise a hand to shield your eyes from him, clearly reliving a haunting memory. “Please don’t remind me.” 

“Y’know, it’s not everyday someone gets to scold me and be right. If you weren’t so beautiful, I wouldn’t have let it slide, but it’s not everyday a gorgeous genius falls into my lap with guts to challenge me.”

“I was… agitated that day, so stop talking about it, please. In fact, for my sake, please just forget that moment. Completely.”

“Forget about it? Completely?” The scholar asks with genuine shock lacing his tone. “I fell in love with you in that very moment, how can you expect me to stop talking about it? You rendered me a fool in love and expect me to not think about the very moment it happened? Sweetheart, it was a pivotal moment of my life!” 

“Not pivotal enough if you can’t even say ‘I love you, too’.”

“On the contrary, I have loved you longer. I yearned for you in wakefulness and in my dreams. I wished for you to look my way, and when you did, I never wanted your eyes to stray from me. How heartbreaking it was when they did.” His hand has snuck under your shirt now to rub circles on your skin. If he detached from you, he fears you’d slip away from him, and the worst thing you can give him is space. “Do you know how it felt chasing after you because you were the only one out of my reach? For three years, the only thing I wanted was to be yours. You made me an idiot.”

Stunned by his confession and the weight of it, you let him continue, sharp tongue softening. The only motivation you offer is a hand coming to cup his cheek, tucking aside his bangs so you can see his expression in its entirety. 

His gold eyes shine when they look back up at you. For the first time, you feel like you’re seeing the parts of him that Veritas hides from everyone else. 

“I love you.” He continues with heart wrenching devotion. “I’ll continue loving you until the streams stop, the rivers freeze, and the oceans dry. With three hundred thousand, eighty-three thousand, five hundred and seventy-one discovered planets in the cosmos, that phenomenon will approximately take-”

You seal his lips with yours in a gentle kiss, cradling his jaw and swallowing his words. Like wax to fire, Veritas sinks into you, completely helpless against your affections. 

But, oh, you love him, and nothing else in the entire universe matters.

© EARTHTOOZ 2024, do not steal, translate, repost my fics and do not recommend my fics onto any other site.

translation

Aventurine doesn't like being understood, but he does like understanding other people. It is essential for manipulation, for scheming, for control. And he likes controlling you especially—for keeping you close but your heart a comfortable distance away, for opening your legs when he wants the pleasure of your body, for playing your emotions however he needs. And the day will come when that skill will be invaluable—the day when he must die without shattering you. (Or: You are the only person in the universe who understands Aventurine in his mother tongue. He often regrets teaching it to you.)

5k words. gender neutral reader, established relationship, angst, non-graphic sex (reader bottoms, anatomy neutral), themes of cultural loss, references to slavery, aventurine’s canonically implied desire to die. MDNI.

Aventurine cannot lie in Avgin.

Deception does not come easily to him in his mother tongue. His command of it is too weak—and too kind. The universe was a different place in the days when his life was coloured by the warble of Avgin dialect. It felt simpler, partly because he was a child and partly because Sigonia was yet untouched by outsiders. There were no corporations, no casinos, no commodity codes. His entire world was sand, desert, mother, sister, father (or more often—ghost), goddess, tent, wagon, luck, sin, rain, blessing, Avgin.

Katican.

Aventurine is sure that he knew more than just those words. He was fluent as a child. He had conversations with his sister that were complex enough to make his heart hurt, though perhaps his heart was just constantly aching anyway. But the rest of his early words escapes him. He could maybe dredge them up if he thinks long enough, but he also isn't sure if his tongue and lips could form the shape of them anymore. Sometimes he still counts in Avgin, memorises phone numbers in it, but he doesn’t remember the last time he actually strung together a full sentence in the language.

When Aventurine was first stolen into slavery (a word that he had not known as a child, and still doesn't know in Avgin), he wasn’t given a Synesthesia Beacon. He had to rely on his ears and his wits, deciphering the harsh edges of the Katican dialect and then the strange garble of Interastral Standard Language. By the time he had a Beacon installed, it was already translating all speech into Standard—his dominant language.

Sometimes he feels a little aggrieved by it, but at least it wasn't Katican. He'd have blown out his brains if it were.

But it is easy to console himself: Avgin is not a useful language anyway. Dead languages have no value, and the Avgin dialect was killed along with its people. You can’t perform commerce in a dead language, can't negotiate contracts, can't enter a gambling den and use your silver tongue to rob people blind. You can't use a dead language to fell governments and extract resources; you can't use a dead language to bring an entire planet to its knees. You can’t use a dead language to gamble your life; you can't use it to save yourself from the gallows.

You cannot deceive people in a language that is defined by sand, sister, goddess, ghost.

Aventurine cannot lie in Avgin. His command of it is too weak, and there is no one left to which he can lie, anyway.

When you ask Aventurine to teach you his first language, he gives you an amused look.

“Why Avgin?” he asks. “No one speaks it anymore. I can teach you Common Sigonian if you’d like. Or we could learn Xianzhounese together. Maybe Intellitron code? I know a little.”

“You speak Avgin,” you argue.

“Not often,” he says. “And badly when I do.”

“But it's still your language. And I want to understand you.”

Aventurine has to stop himself from laughing. Understand him? He hates being understood. When people understand him, it makes him predictable. And unlikeable. Hardly a position from which he can manipulate people in.

You understand him well enough to know that.

“You'll have to give me a better reason than that,” he says neatly. “Make it worth my while. Reward me.”

You look at him as you ponder, your eyes lingering on his. Perhaps trying to read him, though he prefers to think you're just enjoying the sight of them.

“I’ll teach you my language as well?”

“You mean—you'll reward my hard labour with more work?” he says, lighthearted.

You frown at him despite the joke. “You don't want to understand me better than what a Synesthesia Beacon would allow?” He blinks, pausing. “It’ll be convenient too. We can talk shit about other people in public and no one will understand us.”

Aventurine considers you. He doesn't like being understood, but he does like understanding other people. It is essential for manipulation, for scheming, for control. And he likes controlling you especially—for keeping you close but your heart a comfortable distance away, for opening your legs when he wants the pleasure of your body, for playing your emotions however he needs. And the day will come when that skill will be invaluable—the day when he must die without shattering you.

He also likes the idea of talking shit in public.

“I'm listening,” he says, voice lilting. You lean in, smiling. Sweet. It makes his heart feel something he isn't used to. Something addictive. Something disgusting. He scrambles to cover it with one of the usual tools: humour or distraction or maybe just plain old lying—his most reliable weapon.

“I'll throw in a kiss?” you try.

He hums. “Just one?”

“One per day.”

“Three.”

“You drive a hard bargain.”

“Well, I am a businessman.”

You snort, but he knows you're endeared. You have very noticeable tells when you’re flustered.

“Okay,” you say. “Three kisses on days you teach me.”

“Deal.”

Aventurine remembers more Avgin than he thought he would.

It comes to him slowly, painstakingly. You aren't interested in structured lessons, and he wouldn't be able to provide them anyway. He has a nonexistent grasp of grammar aside from this sounds right and that sounds strange, and Avgin dialect is both so niche and so dead that no textbooks are available. The scholars have abandoned the language as much as the politicians abandoned its people. Aventurine only has you, his fragmented memory, and whatever questions come to mind as you live out your days with him.

Mostly, you ask him about basic vocabulary. Sometimes you ask him to repeat sentences from your conversations in Avgin, like he’s some kind of multilingual parrot. Each prompt forces him to wade through the fog in his mind, the one that’s been shrouding his childhood memories until now. He's startled at how naturally the old words roll off his tongue: One, two, three, four. Good morning. Good evening. Good night. Sweet dreams. Five, six, seven, eight. You're lying to me. Why do you always lie to me? I don't know what you're talking about. Nine, ten, eleven, twelve. Welcome home. Have you eaten? Have some bread. I made you stew. Twenty, thirty, forty, fifty. That was dangerous. I thought you wouldn't make it back to me. Sometimes I think you want to die. One hundred, one thousand, one million, one billion. I'm sorry. Come here. Let me kiss you. Don't cry. Don't cry. Don't cry.

When you say, How do I ask you to let me hold you, he answers easily. He'd heard the words so often as a child: Let me hold you, Kakavasha. Let Mama hold you. His mouth forms the sounds without conscious thought.

He regrets it almost immediately.

When Aventurine hears it from you—stilted, halting, but no less gentle—he stops breathing. Let me hold you. You say it all the time in Standard, but it feels different in Avgin. More painful. A strange sense of panic closes in on him when he's wrapped up in you, thinking in Avgin, thinking sand, sister, goddess, ghost. He holds you tightly, like the rags cut from his father’s shirt, or his mother’s locket won back from the shell-slashers, or a bag of poker chips beneath a card table, clutched within his trembling grip.

“Aventurine, is something wrong?” you ask in Avgin, and he replies in Standard with his usual smile.

“Hm? No. What could be wrong if I have you here?”

Lying is one of his greatest tools. Sex is another one. So he says, “I think I'd like my reward now,” and he runs his lips along your jaw, your pulse, the spot over your heart (there's a word for that in Avgin but not Standard, he tells you), until you're laughing. I thought you wanted three kisses, you tease, and he replies, Who said I wanted to kiss you on the mouth?

But he coaxes open your thighs, and once he's inside you, he collects his payment properly. He kisses you, and kisses you, and kisses you—and you swallow his lies whole.

There are some things that Aventurine doesn't teach you. Mostly, they’re things that he can’t teach you.

There are countless gaps in his Avgin. His speech is painfully childish—probably more childish than it was when he actually stopped speaking it. He doesn't know how to swear (something that disappoints you) and he doesn't know how to flirt (something that devastates you). He doesn’t know any words that would be useful for work either: commercialization, governance, stakes, winnings, profit. When you ask him what his job title is in Avgin (“Was senior management even a thing in Avgin society?”), he laughs and gives you the word for gambler.

Then there are the words that he remembers—has remembered his whole life—but never says. Not to you, and not to himself. He doesn't teach you any prayers. He doesn't teach you any blessings. He doesn't teach you about Mama Fenge, or the Kakava Festival, or how the rain fell when he was born. When you ask him, What holidays did you celebrate when you were little? he shrugs and says, We didn't have any. Sigonia’s too bleak to do any partying.

Then you ask him one day, while your bodies are spent in the afterglow of sex, sticky with sweat and sweetness, how to say I love you. And he goes quiet.

Love is a cheap word in Interastral Standard. In the language of globalisation and trade, love has been commercialised, commodified, capitalised for power. You say it to him in many contexts: I love this, I love that, I love you. He hardly ever reacts, and he's never said it back. It would feel unnecessary and also cruel if he did: Aventurine has only ever said the words himself as either a joke or a manipulation.

But love feels different in Avgin than in Interastral Standard, doesn't sound like a thing that can be traded or bought. Kakavasha only ever said the word love to his mother, to his sister, to his father's grave. Love in his mother tongue feels priceless.

When Aventurine thinks about you saying it—I love you, Kakavasha, in clumsy, earnest Avgin—something so painful swells in his throat that he can hardly breathe.

“There is no word for love in my language,” he tells you.

You blink. “Okay, then what's an idiom for it?”

“There is none. There’s no word or phrase expressing love.”

You raise a brow. “That’s hard to believe.”

“Is it?” He smiles. “There’s no Avgin in the known universe who cares about love. Only scheming, thieving, and treachery—and you can't do those things when love is involved.”

You look at him in alarm. “Why are you saying that?” You're practically squirming in your discomfort. “I don't know why you think I'd believe such a racist stereotype.”

“It’s not a stereotype,” he says. “I'm not talking about the Avgin culture. I'm talking about myself.”

After all, he is the only Avgin left.

It is an unfair thing to say. A cruel thing to say. After all the laughing and kissing and crying and fucking, after all the tender eyes and gentle words from you—it is probably the worst pain imaginable: I don't give a shit about you. He waits for you to cry.

But you only stare at him calmly, studying him. You brush the hair out of his eyes, seeing them clearly.

“If you lie to me all the time,” you say in Avgin, “eventually I'll stop believing anything you say.”

Aventurine is speechless. His heart does that addictive, disgusting thing again. He thinks about leaving, but then you say, Let me hold you, and he can't do anything other than obey.

Avgin dialect was once included in the Synesthesia Beacon list of functions. The Intelligentsia Guild added it before the Second Katica-Avgin Extinction Event, when the IPC was trying to get a political foothold on Sigonia via the Avgin people. The language was alive then, with enough value to be included into the Synesthesia LLM by the linguists.

But since the Extinction Event—since Kakavasha ran away from home—the Synesthesia data on Avgin has been stagnant, a fossil. Aventurine knows because he's subscribed to software updates for certain languages (Avgin Sigonian, Common Sigonian, Interastral Standard, and now your mother tongue). He gets pinged every time there's a new addition for slang, for neologisms—but there hasn't been a ping for the Avgin dialect since he had the Beacon installed. The live translation function hasn't even been available since the previous Amber Era. When he checks its page on his Synesthesia app, it's very clear why—

SIGONIAN, AVGIN DIALECT SPEAKERS: 0 STATUS: Extinct END OF SERVICE: 2156 AE

The complete death of the language has led to an irritating dilemma for you and Aventurine. You keep running into words that he doesn't know—this time not because of his childlike speech, but because they never existed in his language to begin with. Ocean, tropical, rainforest. Starskiff, accelerator, space fleet. Stock market, shortselling, mutual funds. Black hole, event horizon, spaghettification. All things that never came up for Kakavasha, but now come up for Aventurine, and the language has not evolved to include it.

He always wants to switch to Standard to discuss these things, but you're insistent on speaking in Avgin as much as possible. He doesn't know why, but he doesn't mind humouring you—partly because he likes to indulge you, and partly because he’s grown used to hearing the honeyed timbre of Avgin dialect in your household. The place would feel strange without it.

So you start filling the gaps with other languages, filtering them through the lyricism of Avgin. Loanwords, he thinks they’re called. You take ocean, tropical, rainforest from Amazian; starskiff, accelerator, space fleet from Xianzhounese; stock market, shortselling, mutual funds from Interastral Standard. For the astrophysics terms, you try directly translating them—with limited success.

“Can't I literally just say ‘black hole’?” you ask in Avgin, and he nearly spits out his coffee.

“Please don't. That's a dirty word.” He can't bring himself to say what it means, but from the way you’re laughing, you can clearly guess.

“I thought you said you didn't know how to swear.”

“You've just reminded me how.”

“You're welcome.” You look on the verge of cackling. Aventurine finishes his coffee and wonders when you're going to surprise him with your newfound vulgarity.

“Let's just do the space terms based on Standard,” he says. Begs.

“No, that's so boring.”

“Then let's do your language.”

You open your mouth. Close it. Give him a blank look.

“You don't know how to say those words in your mother tongue either, do you,” he intuits.

“Well, ‘spaghettification’ doesn't really come up in everyday conversation, does it?”

“Then maybe we don't need it.” He smiles, senses an opportunity. Smells blood. “How about ‘love’? I'd much rather know how you say that. I bet it sounds beautiful.”

You give him a long look. Your eyes are vulnerable when you share it: Love. I love you. He’s fascinated by the sound of it. Your voice is never that fragile when you say it in Standard. It's never so earnest. He repeats it, staring at you, and your gaze falls to the ground. His mouth curls.

“I like it,” he says. “Let's use that. It'll sound nice in Avgin.”

You try to recover. “Sure. That works. But back to ‘black hole’—”

And the two of you continue like that for days, weeks, months. It feels like a complete bastardization of his mother tongue on some days, in some conversations. Almost unrecognisable. But it doesn't feel bad. It’s all he has, it's all you have, and when he walks into your home, he starts speaking it without thinking: your bastard, patchwork language. The Avgin dialect that exists only in your house. A tongue that can only be understood by a liar.

And then, one lazy Sunday morning, he gets a familiar ping. He expects it to be Interastral Standard, as usual. The language balloons with each planet that the IPC colonises.

But instead, he opens his screen and freezes.

SIGONIAN, AVGIN DIALECT SPEAKERS: 2 STATUS: Endangered. SERVICE RESUMED: 2157 AE NEW UPDATES: 103 loanwords and 5 neologisms added.

He can't stop looking at the status. Endangered. Endangered, which means dying, but alive. The Avgin dialect is alive again. The Intelligentsia Guild determined it, so it must be true. But Aventurine can't agree: there are no Avgin speakers in the known universe other than the two of you, and what you speak isn't real Avgin. The Avgin spoken by his mother and father and sister is dead; the Avgin spoken by Kakavasha is dead. The festivals are gone; the deserts have been terraformed. There are no wagons; there are no dances; there are no prayers. There are no blessings, and he has no home—

As long as you are alive, the blood of the Avgin will never run dry.

His throat locks up.

“Aventurine?” you ask. Your voice is drowsy, but concerned. “Is something wrong?”

He looks at you from his phone, a polished smile on his face.

“No.” His syllables are plain and efficient in the noise of Interastral Standard: “Just looking at details for a new assignment. It’ll be a long one.”

“Oh.” You frown. “Will you be away from home for a long time, then?”

He stops himself from swallowing. “Yes, I'll be away from the house. For several months, probably.”

“Okay.” Your voice is small. “Take care of yourself, okay? I'll miss you.”

Each word you speak resonates with heartbreak. It always does in these conversations, even in Standard—but the sorrow is amplified in Avgin. His mother tongue has an inherently sad quality to it, he's noticed. His people have lost so much over their history—their language is one of loss. It's his language of loss. Kakavasha did all his grieving in Avgin; Aventurine has never felt sorrow in Standard. When the language died, so did Kakavasha—and all his regrets with it.

“You'll come home to me, right?” you ask. It's a beautiful sentence in Avgin. A heartrending one. He feels something that he hasn't known since he was a child.

It's a feeling he has to kill.

“Yes,” he says in Standard. “Of course I'll come back.”

This is not the first time that Aventurine has been mistaken for dead, but this is the longest time.

The latest world to join the IPC network was a tough acquisition. It had been ruled by a despot who wreaked havoc on both the people and the planet, and who was too stupid and reckless to resolve conflicts with his trade partners. He probably would have blown up the whole star system had he been left to his own devices. Aventurine had no qualms about bringing him to ruin, nor did he have qualms about nearly dying in the process.

If things had gone his way, he'd either be dead or missing. This would have been the perfect opportunity to do the latter, actually—to be freed from the IPC. Free to drift alone, speaking with strangers in strange, unfamiliar tongues. No connection to his past, to the cruel history of his luck, to his commodity code. No tether to his inherently unjust destiny. But instead he's back in your house, pockets heavy with his borrowed wealth, speaking to you in his bastardised, childish Avgin. I'm sorry. Come here. Let me kiss you. Don't cry. Don't cry. Don't cry.

Your Avgin is—shockingly fluent. He doesn't know how. He can't think about it right now. All he can process is the wounded animal noise of your speech as you yell at him, as you cry. Like an injured songbird, or a weeping child. Why did you leave, why did you lie, why do you always lie to me, why don't you give a shit about me, you spit. Why do you want to die, why do you want to die, why do you want to die, you keep saying. Sand, sister, goddess, ghost, he keeps hearing. Sand, sister, goddess, ghost. Don't leave me, big sister. People will die. Why do you have to go?

“I’m sorry,” he tries again, this time in your language. “I'm so sorry. Come here. Let me hold you.”

You collapse into your mother tongue. Aventurine is both relieved and horrified. Relieved that he doesn't need to hear the language of his grief—horrified that he needs to hear yours. He's never heard you cry like this. He's never heard you break like this. These must have been the words you used when the soldiers found you hiding in your closet, when they dragged you out of your home. You were just a child.

Aventurine doesn't know the words you are using—you've never taught them—but he still understands them.

You're very malleable when you’re sad; even more so when you're hysterical. Aventurine understands this about you, and he understands how to calm you—this time in your native tongue—and he understands how to kiss you. He understands that you need to feel close to him. He understands that there are ways to accomplish this other than sex. A normal person would talk it out, have an honest conversation, come to a mutual understanding, and maybe even stop trying to kill himself. They wouldn't fuck you into the mattress while your face is still wet with tears.

But Aventurine is not a normal person. He doesn't know how to have an honest conversation, and he doesn't want to be understood. Lying is his greatest weapon, and sex is a close second. So he kisses you until you’re too breathless to cry, fucks you until you can't think, and makes you come so hard that you’re in too much bliss to grieve. And maybe it's horrible of him, but he enjoys it. He enjoys the way your body takes him in so easily, the way your nails dig into his back, the way you tighten around him when you climax, so wet and needy for him. The way you beg for him in your language for liars as he spends himself inside you: I love you, Aventurine, I love you, I love you, I love you—

Only because it feels good. This is all only because he enjoys fucking you. This is all only because you enjoy fucking him. This is all it'll ever be, and it'll be this way until he gets to meet his end.

(Some months ago, Aventurine started dreaming in Avgin.

It surprised him when he first noticed it. The last time he remembers having a dream in his native tongue, he was twelve years old and still in chains. And even then, it had become a sporadic, strange thing. Awful to wake up from. One minute he was with his mother and sister on a cool, rainy day, speaking fluently in Avgin as he laughed and played—and the next minute, he was being shaken awake in his cage, hearing the cruel lash of Katican.

But ever since he's started speaking Avgin with you, he's been dreaming in it. Vividly. Sometimes he's a child in these dreams, and sometimes he's grown. He's always back in the Sigonian desert, among the tents and the campfires and his family wagons. His mother and sister are alive. Sometimes his father is too. The skies roar with thunder and the stellar winds are always harsh, but they always keep him cocooned up in their arms. He's always warm.

Sometimes Aventurine dreams of nicer days. Clear skies, warm sun, cool breeze—all blessings from the Mother Goddess. On these days, he tends to be an adult, and you tend to be there with him. Your Avgin is fluent but strange, filled with funny loanwords and peculiar slang. His father likes the neologisms and starts using them—but only in wrong ways. His sister finds it embarrassing and keeps apologising to you.

His mother loves you. She loves you so much it hurts. This is how I know you're blessed, Kakavasha, she says, glowing. You’re so lucky to have found such a kind person.

Kakavasha knows this. He knows he's lucky, and in his dreams, that isn't a bad thing. In his dreams, his luck means that his home is not violently excised from his heart: his father never dies; his mother never dies; his sister never dies. The tents are not burned; the wagons are not destroyed. He is never forced to forget his people's dishes, their songs, their language, their joy. And in his dreams, his luck means that he meets you anyway, without all the loss and the chains and the lying.

In his dreams, he is able to bring you to the desert. He is able to teach you the Avgin he spoke as a child, to cook all the meals his mother used to make, to share with you their coffee and their tea. He teaches you prayers. He teaches you blessings. He tells you about Mama Fenge, about how the rain fell when he was born. He takes you to the Kakava Festival, shows you how to dance, sings to you all the Avgin songs until you're singing back. He presses his palm to yours in prayer; he kisses you in devotion, not avoidance.

Sometimes the two of you still fight, the same fights that you have in real life, but he handles them with honesty. He listens to you. He apologises to you. He tells you that he’ll change, and he means it—because this world is a kind one, and he has no need to be so cruel to you.

In this kind world, when you lay in bed with his arms tight around you, you smile at him and say, I love you, Kakavasha. You say it in Avgin—real Avgin, not the dialect born from genocide and deceit—and when he responds, there's not even a little bit of insincerity in his voice. Because Kakavasha never became Aventurine in these dreams, so he has no Interastral Standard in which he can lie to you, no silver tongue with which he can manipulate you, no commodity code that inspires his fear of being controlled by you. Kakavasha only knows Avgin, and he only has his sand, his family, his goddess, his home.

And he has you. Finally, he has you.

He kisses you, and kisses you, and kisses you—and then he tells you the truth.)

.

.

.

Aventurine cannot lie in Avgin.

You noticed this very early on: whenever he lies to you, he always switches to Interastral Standard. Probably he wouldn't be able to do it in his mother tongue. His command of it is too weak, and the words he knows are all too kind. He speaks with the innocence of a child, and children cannot deceive people in the way that adults can. Children cannot perform commerce or negotiate contracts. They cannot use a silver tongue to rob people blind. They cannot save themselves from the gallows.

So Aventurine’s Avgin is defenceless. Vulnerable. So vulnerable it hurts. You are not so vulnerable in your first language because your captors spoke it on occasion, and you learned to lie in it to gain their pity. You told Aventurine that knowing it would help him understand you, but this was a deception. Aventurine’s mother tongue was a language of trust, but yours is a dialect of abuse.

The Avgin language died before Aventurine could be gutted by it; this is why it disarms him so completely. This is why he’s so indulgent and so warm when you use it with him, why he yields to all your requests. Not requests for money or gifts—you’re certain those are meaningless to him—but for affection. Let me hold you. Let me touch you. Let me kiss you. He can never say no.

This is also why he loves hearing you speak his mother tongue, you think—it makes him feel at home, it makes him feel safe. Maybe it even makes him feel loved. He never seems so at peace speaking any other language, so you try to use Avgin as much as possible. You like seeing him happy. You like it even if it means you need to teach him your own native language in exchange, even when it means you need to hear him say all the things your captors used to say. You don't mind it if it's him. You never mind the harm he inflicts on you, especially not when it brings you closer to him.

It is convenient that he cannot lie in Avgin. You only wanted to learn it in the first place because he talks in his sleep—mostly in Standard, but sometimes in his native tongue. And now that you know he cannot lie in Avgin, you also know he's always being honest in his dreams. Honest when he throws his arms around you in his sleep. Honest when he grabs you so tightly that you bruise. Honest when he buries his face into your neck and whispers prayers into your skin.

Most of the words he says are common ones, the earliest vocabulary that he taught you. But there are some things he's withheld from you—and to learn those things, you had to track down linguists from the Intelligentsia Guild, bribe them with your dirty money, have them give you all their deprecated, extinct data. It felt two-faced, and it was violating, but it was the only way. You already know that Aventurine would rather die than translate his feelings for you, would never want this part of himself understood.

I'm sorry for always leaving you.

I'm sorry for making you cry.

I can't bear the thought of losing you.

Freedom would be too lonely without you.

I don't want to hurt you anymore.

I don't want to lie to you anymore.

I missed you.

I want you.

I need you.

I love you.

end

afterword

ART OF THE BEDCHAMBER | part 1

"Dual cultivation with you wouldn't be very useful. You might have extraordinary qi as a Vidyadhara, but it's sealed when you're in your human form."  Dan Heng stares at your fingers, deliberates as you trace the invisible paths of his meridians.  "Then," he says, "what about my dragon form?"  (Or: Dan Heng dreads the thought of outliving you and will do anything to help you achieve immortality. If that means fucking you in his dragon form, then so be it.)

6.5k words. smut, fluff, established relationship, xianxia elements. semi-explicit sexual content (only with dan heng in his human form in this chapter, sorry). reader is gender neutral, afab — they have breasts and bomb pussy game. cultural notes: "yinyue jun" is the chinese equivalent for "imbibitor lunae". please see the end notes for information on cultivation. other notes: this is set pre-1.2. 风月 was based on this fic so some things may feel very familiar! network: @trailblazernet. MDNI.

When Dan Heng—in a rather unexpected move—fell in love with you, he didn’t foresee all the agony that would come with it.

Shockingly, you aren’t the direct cause of this agony: a remarkable fact, given your routine of pestering him for as many hours as the day will allow. Dan Heng often complains about your many inconvenient behaviours (e.g., trying to cuddle with him in the archives, trying to kiss him in the archives, trying to have sex with him in the archives), but to the amazement of his fellow trailblazers, he never actually does anything about it. After getting over his initial embarrassment at such public displays of affection (this took quite some time), he’s come to tolerate it.

You often like to tease him for his leniency, all playful smiles and lilting tones: You don’t have to act so shy, Dan Heng—I know you enjoy the attention. My Heng'er likes to be spoiled, huh?

He always rolls his eyes in response. Consider it a miracle that I haven’t kicked you out yet, he’ll usually say, flicking you on the forehead. He never tells you if he means kicking you out of the archives or if he means throwing you out of the Astral Express itself, right into the vacuum of space. (Most bystanders are astonished that the latter hasn’t happened yet. So are you.)

He also doesn’t tell you how wrong it feels when he isn’t listening to the background noise of your shameless flirting. Or how wrong it feels when he doesn’t get to humour you with a kiss every once in a while.

Which brings him to the root of the problem: the wrongness that he’s feeling right now. The emptiness of the archives without your laughter, the tasteless quality of his food when you’re not there to dine with him, the restlessness of trying to sleep without you—it’s all wrong, wrong, wrong. Wrong enough for it to be a little agonizing, now that he’s nearing one hundred and twenty days of this.

You often have to leave the Express for many months in a row, so Dan Heng is no stranger to these unsettling feelings. Neither are you. If I could spend more time with you, I would, you’d said before leaving last time—and the time before that, and the time before that, and the time before that. But I can’t avoid going into seclusion. It’s part of the whole Cultivator gig, y'know—gotta go to a mountain somewhere and meditate for a few months. That’s just the price of immortality if you’re a measly human. Then you’d given him a little smile, pecked him on the lips. Most people do it for years at a time, but I wouldn’t be able to leave you alone for so long.

The first time you’d pointed this out, Dan Heng was startled by the relief that flooded him. Vidyadharas have an intuitively different sense of time compared to human beings, and two or three years should feel like nothing to him: relative to the centuries he’d lived as his previous incarnation—or the decades as his current one—it would be only a fleeting moment.

But in your absence, it would feel like an eternity.

It surprises him how much he hates the crawl of time without you. Dan Heng had never before been a needy person: solitude and isolation had always been the norm for him, in a lifetime absent of human touch—first imprisoned from birth, then exiled from the first moment he got to see the sun. Even after leaving the Alliance, he hadn’t allowed himself to become particularly close with anyone: it would have been too complicated because of the sensitive matter of his past, and he simply didn’t feel deserving of it anyway. Nor was he in need of it.

Then he met you.

Then he met you, and he became accustomed to the sound of your laughter, and then your offhanded, warm touches, and then your smile as you sat in the blue glow of the archive floor and poured baijiu into everyone’s cups. (Scalding, bitter; you had laughed as he made a face and warmed up huangjiu specifically for him next time, and it was the sweetest thing he’d ever tasted.) And then he became accustomed to talking to you—to letting you unearth things he’d buried for decades, to revealing his suffering and receiving your compassion, to the gentle feeling of your hand on his shoulder. Then the tender, nervous look in your eyes, then the silky press of your lips, then the closeness of your unclothed body, and then the breathless warble of your voice—Dan Heng, I’m close, I’m so close, please—and then the euphoria of having you arch and fall apart so beautifully in his arms.

And then the afterglow. He hadn’t only grown used to that: he’d become addicted to it. Warmer and headier than huangjiu, something that he’d have never been able to imagine while growing up in the night-dark prison of his childhood.

Even the memory of his first taste of sunlight aboard the Luofu pales in comparison to the feeling of having you in his arms. The first time he’d had the privilege of holding you, he caught himself thinking: If paradise is but a dream, then I wish to sleep forever.

And now, each time he lies awake on his futon, alone except for the glow of artificial stars, Dan Heng becomes acutely aware of the emptiness left by your missing form.

He isn’t exactly deserving of your companionship. He knows that.

But he is in need of it.

After one hundred and twenty one days of seclusion, you are ready to return to the Astral Express.

Time moves differently when you cultivate behind closed doors. The act of such intense meditation and training distorts the flow of the world for you, makes entire months feel like days. Emerging from seclusion always comes with a certain anxiety: Are your friends well? Have they forgotten you? Has the Express continued its journey across the galactic railroad, or has some terrible event happened to your home—a supernova, a meteor shower, the destructive force of a stellaron?

And, most importantly: Did anyone murder your boyfriend while you were away?

There is at least one intergalactically wanted criminal who's tried to kill Dan Heng a number of times, and an entire alliance consisting solely of his haters. Half the reason you take your cultivation so seriously is to prepare for the inevitable day that someone is going to seriously attempt to murder him in front of you (probably the aforementioned criminal). You want to be strong enough to one-hit KO Arbiter-General Jing Yuan himself, if it ever comes down to it.

Of course, the downside is that the murder attempt might happen while you're off training, but you're hoping that March 7th and Caelus can cover for you in that case.

Still—while you have nothing in confidence in Caelus’ abilities (you adore March, but will not comment on hers), you sigh in relief when your phone begins to buzz.

> Are you out yet? We're on our way. > Get something to eat if you haven't yet. I'll make sure something is ready for you on the Express too. > I know you can practice inedia, but you're still a human at the end of the day. Please get something to eat as soon as possible.

No hello, no I missed yous, just plain, practical concern—as always.

You are not a practical person.

> GEGE! > GEGE GEGE GEGE > DAN HENG GEGE > come fast i want to kiss u > i'll die if u don't kiss me soon > i missed you!!!!!! > did you miss me??????

You can more or less imagine the expression on your (hopefully unharmed) boyfriend's face: deadpan exasperation. The first time you came out of seclusion during your relationship, you texted him no less than twenty times in a row from a new number, and he reflexively flagged it all as spam. He's since told you to tone down the double texting (and triple texting, and quintuple texting, and dectuple texting…), but always replies anyway.

> The Express is about to warp. We'll be there soon. > I'll do whatever you like, please just eat.

You watch as an ellipsis appears at the bottom of your chat window, then disappears, then appears again. When he finally sends his text, a smile stretches wide across your face.

> And yes, I thought of you the whole time you were gone.

With your return to the Express, you make Dan Heng engage in all your usual couple activities. Which is to say: you act disgustingly sweet with him and the other passengers experience varying degrees of shock and entertainment at his complacent behaviour.

You surprise him as he works in the archives, looping your arms around his waist and pressing against his back so you can whisper things into his ear: Gege, pay attention to me! or Dan Heng, can't you take a break now? or Heng'er, are you really going to ignore your lover like this? So cruel!

Dan Heng doesn't react during these moments, but he also doesn't push you away. Sometimes he'll shove a stack of books into your hands and say, If you have time to mess around like this, then you can work on digitizing these for me. You always agree, but wheedle a kiss out of him in exchange for your hard labour.

(Welt Yang walks in on one such kiss, coughs loudly, and walks back out. Dan Heng pulls away from your lips to stare at the door in abject horror.)

You give Dan Heng a number of books and films from your travels, and keep him company as he dives into them. He always gravitates toward the latest Xianzhou novels first, especially the ones that give mention to everyday life on the Luofu. You suppose that he's never been able to rid himself of his curiosity about the life that he'd been denied, enthralled by visions of night markets and starskiffs, teahouses and cross-talkers. You can see his longing in the crease of his brow, the softening of his eyes as he reads.

Seeing his wistful expressions, it is impossible to stop yourself from keeping him company. You press into his side, resting your head on his shoulder—something that will comfort him, you hope—and read alongside him. Sometimes the two of you fall asleep like that, wrapped up in each other on the archive floor.

(March 7th stumbles into one of these moments and can't help but snap a picture of the two of you. Dan Heng later pales when he sees your lock screen, where your slumbering, entwined forms are clearly visible.)

You often convince Dan Heng to have a proper, sit-down dinner with you in the dining car. He won't ever do it for food from the kitchens, preferring to eat in the archives instead, but he'll do it for food you cook together. The two of you enjoy your meals while watching the interstellar scenery roll by outside, stargazing at distant galaxies. Sometimes you savour the tangy-sweetness of tomato-egg stir fry (your handiwork); sometimes you enjoy the rich broth of delicately steamed xiaolongbao (your boyfriend's handiwork); sometimes the both of you sweat over the punishing numbing-spice of malaxiangguo (a combined effort and favoured couple's activity—right up there with building furniture).

The other passengers wave whenever they see you, impressed that Dan Heng has emerged from the archives. They joke as they greet you: I guess you're the only one that can pull him out of his cave!

(The older ones—Himeko especially—laugh and talk fondly about young love when they spot you. Dan Heng's expression stays as stoic as ever, but the tips of his ears go red and he accidentally burns his tongue trying to eat his own bao.)

You address Dan Heng with an astonishing number of pet names at an alarming frequency; your excuse is that you need to make up for the four months you couldn't call him anything. Mostly you call him 'Gege' in public, which he usually doesn't mind as it saves him considerable face relative to all the alternatives, but this changes when Caelus starts teasing him about it.

Morning, Gege, he starts saying at breakfast, drawing a long stare from Dan Heng. Gege, can you help me with finding these records? he asks whenever he strolls into the archives. Before expeditions, he starts turning to Dan Heng and using his most sugary voice: You'll protect me, right, Gege? And Dan Heng turns to Himeko to flatly state, I will not be held responsible if he dies.

Eventually, Caelus grows bold enough to join you both for dinner: Gege, he asks, do you want me to hand-feed you these noodles too?

Dan Heng replies by rising from his seat and walking straight out of the dining car.

(Your long-suffering boyfriend eventually says, during one of your reading sessions, that Caelus is quickly becoming unbearable with this new habit of his.

Well, you muse, since he’s just teasing you about the way I talk to you, I could stop calling you ‘Gege’.

Dan Heng stops. He looks almost hesitant, like he wants to protest, but his expression flattens into a deadpan when you continue: I could always call you 'baobei' instead. What, you don't like that? But Heng'er, you're my baobei, my xingan baobei, my little little apple and beloved husb—whoa!

You laugh hysterically as you dodge the book he chucks at you.)

Sometimes you do get him to reciprocate your actions. Shockingly—despite his reserved and conscientious disposition—you have the greatest success with this whenever you tease him while he's working. You find it works best to crawl into his lap and kiss at his jawline, whispering into his ear while he tries to focus on his screen.

I’m so pent up, Gege, you often start with. I've been trying to take care of myself, but my fingers aren't enough. You like to straddle his hips as you talk, grind a little if you think you can get away with it. You whine if you do, pressing your face into his neck—right beneath his clenched jaw. Won't you give me some attention? Just ten minutes on this desk is all we need.

Dan Heng can only ever endure about fifteen minutes of this before throwing you over his shoulder. You inevitably find yourself being flipped over in a fireman's carry, being lectured in a flat tone. I don't know where you get off lying like that, he usually comments as he makes his way to your room, ignoring your yelping and kicking. 'Ten minutes'? Every time you act like this, you end up taking up my whole evening.

(He does, in fact, spend the rest of his night in bed with you, making it clear that there is no need for you to ‘take care of yourself’ so long as he’s around.)

But despite all the grief you give Dan Heng with your public, grand displays of affection, your favourite moments with him are the private ones. The ones where you sit next to him on his futon, sharing a pair of earbuds and listening to the latest hits from the various worlds to which you’ve travelled. The ones where you make dumpling skins together during the quiet hours of the kitchen, flour dusting your fingers as you roll out the dough that Dan Heng has kneaded. The ones where you spend lazy mornings in bed together, Dan Heng holding you as you talk at length about nothing at all.

The ones where you pause in your long-winded ramble to find him staring at you, his gaze fond and fully attentive. Met with such tenderness, you have no choice but to lean in and kiss him, long and deep and smiling—and in the privacy of your room, your boyfriend is more than happy to return it.

Some weeks after you return to the Express, Dan Heng gives you a long look after one such moment and says, "You should spend more time with me."

You raise a brow. "Eh? I already spend plenty of time with you, Heng'er. I've been bothering you 24/7 now that I'm back on the Express… It's a wonder you aren't sick of me yet."

"Of course I'm not sick of you," he replies plainly. "I could never be."

The admission makes you blink. Heat prickles the back of your neck. It's not often that Dan Heng is so straightforward with his feelings.

"And I mean"—he looks away, the red paint along his waterline hidden by his lashes—"that it'd be nice if you didn't have to leave the Express so often. If you could stay here all year round."

You can't stop yourself from frowning. "You know I don't like leaving you, but I really don't want to compromise my training." Your fingers sweep gently at his brow, brushing away his hair. "I wanna be strong enough to protect you, Gege. After I get to that level, I promise I'll be around more often." Then you smile a little. "And if I'm lucky, I might even get a long life out of it!"

Dan Heng's brow dips. "A 'long life'? The whole point of cultivation is to achieve immortality, isn't it?"

"Sure, in theory. In practice, almost no human ever becomes immortal by these means. If cultivation were so easy, then people wouldn't turn to shortcuts like magical elixirs or blessings from Aeon Yaoshi." You purse your lips, voice starting to colour with derision. "Not that I'd ever be shortsighted enough to chase either of those things, mind you. I'd rather work hard, have a long and healthy life, and die and reincarnate properly if it comes to that. Immortality isn't worth the strife caused by any other method."

Dan Heng studies you closely, his eyes steadfast on yours. "Then… what do you consider a 'long life'?"

You hum, thinking. "If I don't slack off with my training, I have maybe eighty to a hundred years of youth before I kick the bucket."

"Eighty years?" Dan Heng's eyes go a little wide. You aren't used to seeing it.

"Yes?" You shift, fidgeting. "But that's only if I'm lucky. Pushing for anything more would be tough. I could undergo a qi deviation and die… or I might just not be talented enough to reach that stage of cultivation and pass away from natural causes… someone could also just kill me at any time, given my lifestyle. I've got a lot of options for dying, you know."

Dan Heng doesn't reply, nor does he look at you. It occurs to you that this whole conversation might be unsettling for him, given everything that's happened with the Xianzhou Alliance, with the matter of his past life and that vengeful monster he seems unable to kill. The mere thought of immortality must be painful for Dan Heng.

"I'm sorry, Gege," you say. "It's insensitive of me to talk about these things with you. Anyway—I'm not seriously trying to become an immortal, so you don't have to worry about me. I'm not looking to break any taboos."

Your lover gives you a long, unreadable stare before replying, "Right. Of course. Nothing good can come from the pursuit of immortality." Cinnabar paint flickers as he looks away. "Human life should be as morning dew—fleeting and ephemeral."

Dan Heng starts to behave strangely, after that. Quieter and withdrawn. Not just subdued in his affection, but absent in it.

When you bother him in the archives, he no longer scolds you or distracts you with any work—merely continuing with his tasks, completely immersed in them. When March 7th and Caelus tease him about his many pet names, he doesn't get flustered—only rolls his eyes and ignores them. When the other passengers catch sight of the two of you dining together and fondly comment on your relationship, he hardly reacts. He only continues eating, staring absently at his dish—usually something you've made, because he seems uninterested in eating anything else these days.

(Are you sure you don't want actual food from the kitchens instead? you ask once, studying what's supposed to be dough for fried breakfast buns. For whatever reason, you can't get the consistency right. The Express chefs are way better than me, you know.

No, he insists. You made it, so I want to eat it.

You don't need to be so polite!

I'm not being polite. He looks down at your fingers, dusted snow-white with flour. It's just what I want.)

You wrongly assume, for a little bit, that he's somehow lost interest in everything but your cooking. It only feels like the logical conclusion, especially when Dan Heng gets into the habit of ignoring you for most of the day despite your use of every trick in your arsenal—from kissing him to teasing him to begging him for sex. He simply tells you that he'll entertain you later, and is otherwise too deeply absorbed in his work to pay attention to you.

"Is something wrong, Dan Heng?" you eventually ask, voice small. "Is it that you don't feel the same way about me anymore? Do you want to break up?"

Dan Heng goes stock still when he hears this. Without saying a word, he puts down his tablet, locks the door, and kisses you long and hard. And then—for the first time in your relationship—he proceeds to actually fuck you in the archives. He rails you next to the terminal for the better part of an hour, forces an earth-shattering orgasm out of you that ruins the carbon-fibre surface you're laid out on, and then he fills you up to the point that his spend starts trickling down your thigh.

Hazy and fucked out, you wonder idly if it's dripping down onto the phosphorescent tiles below. Dan Heng will probably make a fuss about it, especially since this is technically a public space, and the terminal is its most high-traffic area. He'd have a stroke if anyone ever saw this mess.

When he stands up, you assume that he's getting right to cleaning, like usual. The guy can hardly ever relax.

You don't expect it when he gets onto his knees and puts his head between your thighs.

"Gege?" you say, solidly confused, but before you can ask him what he's doing, you feel the press of his tongue against your dripping entrance and then all you can do is moan.

By the time Dan Heng is done with you, the two of you are messy and breathless, collapsed and tangled up in each other on his makeshift bed.

You stare at the ceiling, mind whirring even in your exhaustion. It had been hard to process the situation while your boyfriend was railing every thought imaginable out of you—but now that he’s finally done, the shock is settling in.

Holy shit, you think, Dan Heng never gets this nasty. Something really is wrong!

You think of broaching the matter, but Dan Heng beats you to it. He turns to you, says, "I don't want to break up," and then gets back on top of you for another round.

You decide to put your foot down.

The next night, you invite Dan Heng into your bedroom. You're all business this time. There's no whining, no teasing, no Heng'er, you don't want to touch me? There are no desperate and indirect plays to get his attention while you simmer in anxiety about what he's hiding from you. (This change is not because of your own strength of mind—of which you have none, when it comes to your boyfriend—but because you're now sure you won't break up, whatever happens.) Instead, you seat him at your table and regard him with a firm expression.

You're careful to keep your voice gentle, but you still don't hesitate: "I know something's been bothering you, Dan Heng. Can we please talk about it?"

Dan Heng is prepared for the question. "I'm sorry I've been neglecting you," he says instantly. "It won't happen anymore. I'm very serious about our relationship, and I have no wish for it to end."

You know he's being earnest. After spending the rest of his night fucking you—slow and sweet in your bed, rather than the desperate way he'd done it in the archives—he'd woken up this morning and gone back to normal. Paid attention to you, paid attention to others, humoured your public displays of affection and initiated his own in private. Acted like the past two weeks never happened, and that nothing’s been weighing on his mind.

Were he anyone else, you'd assume that you're simply being strung along for sex, or perhaps being distracted by it. But Dan Heng isn't anyone else: he has absolutely no interest in physical intimacy without the emotional kind. He'd slept with you as an affirmation of his feelings for you. (He probably also did it because you kept begging to be fucked, but that's neither here nor there.)

Still, as much as you liked having your back blown out in the archives, semi-public sex isn't exactly a healthy way to deal with relationship problems.

"I know you'll be more mindful of my feelings now," you reply, "but I'd still like you to tell me what's been bothering you. I won't force it out of you, but if you did tell me, we could maybe fix it?"

"It is unfixable," he replies, "and not a problem to begin with. Simply the nature of things that I must accept."

His tone is neutral. Factual. Certain of the insignificance of whatever the issue is, even though you know that he's not the type to be bothered by insignificant things.

You frown, confused. "If it's the nature of things, then it won't hurt for me to know."

Dan Heng isn't looking at you anymore, instead fixated on the view beyond your window. Peering at the many moons of this galaxy, he finally relents: "'The night-blooming cereus flowers only once.' This is how Vidyadharas describe human life."

You consider his words, contemplating the bittersweet air of the idiom.

"Because human life feels ephemeral to you?" you discern.

"Yes. The lifespan of a human is but a fraction of ours. It's never bothered me before, but"—he's finally looking at you now, and his expression guts you—"four months without you feels unbearable. I can't imagine four centuries."

You go quiet.

Dan Heng is right: this is the nature of things. Skilled as you might be, you aren't likely to be one of those rare few humans who can ascend to immortality without Yaoshi's fruit. He’ll likely need to spend the better part of his life without you, and then every lifetime thereafter. Such is the reality for a Vidyadhara choosing to love a short-life species.

“...I’m sorry, Dan Heng,” is all you can bring yourself to say, but he shakes his head.

“There is no need for you to apologize," he says plainly. "I should have prepared myself for this eventuality when I chose to commit myself to you. It cannot be helped."

Dan Heng loves this phrase, you think to yourself. It cannot be helped that I had to live alone for so many years. It cannot be helped that I was exiled from my home. It cannot be helped that I was punished for the sins of Yinyue Jun.

It cannot be helped that you will someday leave me.

A splinter digs into your heart. You reach out, squeeze his hand, and wish that you could do more.

"It cannot be helped," you agree, "but that doesn't make it any less painful."

Dan Heng does not speak, but the way that he closes his eyes is enough of a reply. No matter how unfeeling he makes his voice, his pain is evident.

You wait for him to collect himself. Listen to his breaths—deeper than usual, meditative, reflective. There is hesitation in his eyes when he finally looks at you. A weakness that he only ever shows at night, after waking from a terrible dream.

"...I know it's a cruel thing to ask of you," Dan Heng eventually says, and the bitter edge to his words surprises you, "and perhaps a sign that this soul of mine will never change in its sins, no matter how many times it is reborn—but is there no way for us to spend a life together?"

You forget how to breathe.

What he's asking you is not just heretical for him—it's traumatic. An echo of the crime he'd committed in his past life, the tragedy that marked him for suffering in this one. He must be desperate for an answer if he's voicing the question at all.

You struggle as you think through your options.

"Seeking out the Peaches of Immortality is out of the question," you start. "And Sanctus Medicus is just a bunch of nutjobs—no way could they make me immortal. Demonic cultivation is another Path, but I don't think you'd like the thing I'd become by the end of it."

A brilliant river of stars streams past the window, like the one in that ancient folktale about the bridge of magpies. You can see the reflection of your lover's face in the window: muted, sorrowful, already mourning you. And of course he's mourning you long before your death, with how much he'd lost long before his birth.

Oh, Heng'er, you think, even if I drank from Meng Po's bowl and lost every memory of you, I'd still find my way back to you in my next life.

It would be too cruel to say aloud, so you remain quiet—merely staring at the galaxy before you, hoping quietly to see some kind of bridge.

Then a nearby sun flickers, and you remember something.

"...I guess there is another option," you say slowly, "but I can't imagine you being happy with it."

He straightens up. "What is it?"

"Well…" You take a deep breath. "Sometimes people practice dual cultivation as a way to extend their life. It's quite safe, but would be difficult given our relationship."

Dan Heng stares. "What exactly does it entail?"

"Well… it's basically cultivating by having sex. If I slept regularly with an immortal being with highly refined qi, I could probably exchange energy with them and achieve longevity that way." You make a face at the thought. "But it's not exactly easy to find an immortal who'd want a lifelong friend with benefits… and I'd really rather not have sex with anyone other than you, anyway."

It would probably make him miserable.

You're surprised when Dan Heng looks thoughtful, rather than disturbed. He studies you for a long moment, considering.

"Vidyadharas are immortal," he says, "and the qi of a High Elder is much more powerful than that of any other species. Is it not helping that we're already coupling so often?"

"Not really." You reach out across the table, hold out your palm, and he knows to give you his hand. You turn it over, tracing a finger along the length of his wrist. "Dual cultivation with you wouldn't be very useful. You might have extraordinary qi as a Vidyadhara, but it's sealed when you're in your human form."

You feel for the warm glow of his meridians, even though you already know what you'll find—an ordinary, unremarkable life force coursing through his body.

Dan Heng doesn't seem discouraged, though, when you look back up at him. Only curious.

"Then," he says, "what about my dragon form?"

It doesn't end up being very straightforward.

For a full ninety minutes, Dan Heng sits in your room and listens to you discuss the mechanics of dual cultivation, also known traditionally as the 'art of the bedchamber'. As its name would suggest, there are quite a few nuances and technical considerations involved: different positions enhance your qi in different ways; certain acts are more useful than others; mutual pleasure must be attained for the greatest possible benefit.

It isn't just a lecture that you give him. You take out one of your cultivation manuals and show him various diagrams and poses. You whip out your tablet and visit "questionable websites" for "video demonstrations". You quiz him intensively at the end of each unit.

At around the seventy-minute mark, you catalogue Dan Heng's expression—thousand yard stare, stiff posture, red ears—and decide that you're overwhelming him. So you tell him the most important takeaway, which is that one thing he must absolutely do is—

"—finish inside you?"

"Mhm." You sound completely unbothered. "As much as possible. And as many times as possible."

He gives you a long, blank stare, and then crosses his arms. "...all of this is just a ploy to get me to do one of your favourite things in bed, isn't it."

"What? No! I wouldn't lie to you about something like this, Gege!" You're being truthful. Though your sex drive can sometimes drive you to try insane things, it never drives you to be cruel. "I'm being dead serious right now. This really will extend my life. Those cultivation manuals were proof!"

Dan Heng considers you. "You're right. You wouldn't lie about something like this."

"Thank you."

"You're already so shameless about begging for it—I don't think you'd see the need to come up with an excuse."

Wow.

"...okay, yes, but you're also pretty shameless about giving in."

Dan Heng clears his throat, and you try not to laugh. "Well, I've never had a reason not to, since we don't need to worry about pregnancy…" He tries very, very hard to assume some semblance of dignity as he deflects: "Anyway. I think I understand the gist of it. You more or less want me to do the usual things."

"Yes—but while you're in your original form, of course."

"Right." His eyes narrow, and his expression becomes uncertain: something you've only seen a handful of times. "...I do need you to know that taking that shape… complicates things. There is a reason why my powers are usually sealed."

You nod. You've known for a while now that Dan Heng hates invoking his Vidyadhara powers—he considers it as taboo as much as a Xianzhou native would. Truthfully, it did occur to you some time ago that exchanging qi with a dragon would make your cultivation progress leaps and bounds, but after learning about how much he despises that form of his, you'd scrapped the whole idea and put it out of mind.

You're surprised that he's even consenting to this, all things considered.

Noticing the tension in his body, you leave your teaching set-up (tablet, an annotated cultivation manual, and smartboard with various stick figures you've drawn) to rest a hand on his shoulder.

"I don't know if we have to worry about that. The Alliance only sealed Vidyadhara powers due to historical reasons relating to the Sedition, right?" you try to console him. "Rather than anything to do with your nature in this lifetime, I mean. You aren't inherently dangerous."

You can see the conflict in his eyes; your words run exactly counter to everything he must have heard while imprisoned on the Luofu.

"I don't know," Dan Heng finally says, "but for better or worse, things are still different when I take my true shape. I'm no longer used to it." He frowns a little. "The amount of power feels overwhelming to me now. It's fine in normal circumstances, but—" He struggles for a moment. "...I don't know how I'll behave in… these circumstances with you."

"Ah, I see. You're worried that you won't be able to control yourself while fucking you're me, huh?"

He gives you a disgruntled look. "Do you have to use such crass language?"

"Sorry, Gege. I'll try to speak eloquently like you: Yinyue Jun may fall to his base instincts once he's crossed the threshold of the chrysanthemum gate, right?"

His expression turns from disgruntled to disdainful. Evidently, he's not a fan of your erotica novel slang.

"Please be serious for once. We need to be careful if we do this. I might behave impulsively—do something rash. Accidentally hurt you."

You hum, considering his words. "That's surprising. I thought dragons were generally supposed to be pretty calm and wise…" Then you think about how you couldn't walk this morning. "Though I guess you weren't particularly calm yesterday."

He snorts. "Well, I usually am. Unfortunately, I find it exceptionally hard to control myself around you, with how much you like to provoke me," he says plainly. "It'll just get worse if I switch forms."

You try not to stare at him, shocked at how unbothered he is by these admissions. You suppose that multiple rounds of semi-public sex might have forced him to cross an event horizon of shame, and now his face is finally getting thicker.

"It isn't just my behaviour I'm worried about," he continues. His arms cross again, and his brow furrows. "You might find my form… unattractive. You probably won't like it."

You frown. "I can't imagine that. I bet the real Cold Dragon Young is super handsome."

It's a testament to his anxiety that he hardly reacts to your stupid comment. He just studies you carefully, uncertain. Apprehensive.

"I guess we'll find out."

END PART 1

notes: for those unfamiliar, this fic is set in the same universe as fengyue. fengyue was actually based on this fic, but due to my inability to manage deadlines, it came out way ahead of this LOL

i'm sorry there was no dragonfucking in this part when i have been promising dragonfucking for ages on this blog. but i am 12.5k words into part 2 and i can assure you that there is an excessive amount of incredibly nasty dragonfucking in it, so please look forward to that

this was written way before 1.2 came out (and in fact, before I had even caught up to 1.1 content). hopefully the characterization still holds up ok!

big, big thank you to @petrichorium for helping me navigate canon lore and riffing w me on this piece. please go check out their works, they have banger star rail content!

cultural notes:

cultivation is the practice of using martial and spiritual arts to cultivate one’s qi, gain spiritual powers, and attain immortality

dual cultivation is the act of refining your qi through having sex

I will be honest. I cannot remember the other cultural refs I dropped because I just kind of blindly write them in so please let me know if you have any questions about things LOL

translation notes:

gege is a term meaning "older brother", though it is often used for non-familial relationships that are very close; it can come off as either flirty or childish. heng'er is a diminutive of dan heng's name.

“If paradise is but a dream, then I wish to sleep forever” - this was a reference to the chinese version of dan heng’s ult line. in english, he says “this sanctuary is but a vision”. however, in chinese, he says “洞天幻化，长梦一觉” which is closer to something like “paradise is an illusion, reveals itself to be a long dream”

"The night-blooming cereus flowers only once" - this is how I rendered the idiom "曇花一現", which describes thing that are short-lived

"Human life should be as morning dew" - this is how I rendered the idiom "人生如朝露", which describes the ephemeral nature of human life

yes I really made dan-gege break out the chengyu and poetic speech... I'm not sure how he sounds in english but my man has his super literary moments in chinese haha

Him: I fucking own you. You're mine now. You ain't going no fucking where. I'm about to be your last boyfriend. I'm about to be your only boyfriend. I'm about to be your husband. You're mine.

Y/n: *smiling* so you like me?

Him: *blushing* y-yes...

LAST KISS

summary. there was before you, and there was during you. for some reason, i never thought there would be an after you.

pairing. blade x fem! reader

cc. lowercase intended , angst - no comfort , mention of blood , implied immortal reader , 1.8k words

truly a bittersweet feeling — the way you stared at the picture frame sitting on top of your bedside table displaying a photo of two people alongside each other. you with the man you swore to love for all eternity, yingxing.

you never thought it would be this hard to let go of someone, specifically a person who you had already dedicated yourself to. constellation like souls, tied and destined together by fate. that's what it felt like loving him. for each time your eyes locks with his vermillion colored ones, those short moments felt like you were bound to devote your undying love to him forevermore.

he made it easy to stay alive, to live. for his presence simply gracing yours eased the deepest pains you've long hidden behind a carefree and bubbly personality. he accepted every little piece of you, without a care of what might come for him. he reciprocated the love you unconditionally gave him like it was easy. because for yingxing, it was beyond easy.

"don't you find it weird? that you take care of us but forget to care for yourself afterwards?" a male voice speaks in a whisper-like tone as you tend to the wound planted on his arm using bandages good for the bleeding you didn't cause. "jing yuan, stop worrying so much about me. if im still breathing just fine, then you can't say that i don't take care of myself."

you giggle, finishing his wrapped up right arm before patting it gently, standing up to leave and return the unused roll to a cabinet where they belong. "i'd like you to meet a friend of ours." his statement made you stop in your tracks, looking back behind at the vulnerable man sitting at the bed of your clinic with a smile on his face.

"who?" eyes locked on him, placing the roll on your desk as you patiently awaited for a reply from him. you seriously doubted he had more friends other than the members of the high cloud quintet who viewed you as a trusted someone who they could always run to when they're in need of assistance with injuries they earned from their battles. though, there was someone they've mentioned once who was also a member that you haven't met just yet.

jing yuan tilts his head to the side, looking straight into your eyes. "yingxing, i assume that you've heard of him atleast once or twice whenever you would engage in my conversations with my friends." which was true. you've certainly heard of that name but never really dared to ask about who he might be, for you thought none of it was your business to bring up so casually.

you remembered the day you first laid eyes on him like it happened yesterday. the memories you created with yingxing were the most vivid memories throughout the entirety of your life. fragments of memories you would forever cherish until the minute of your last breath.

he played such a special role in your life. as if you weren't able to carry the burdens crushing you without his support. it truly was a surprise that you managed to last so long unaccompanied by the man that took most of your pain just by simply being there beside you. his absence made it hard for you to breathe.

"xing, look at this!" your hand carried a white tassel that faded downward into a shade of red.

"for me?" he asks in an instant, gazing at the accessory that you've confirmed was for him with a nod. you hang the tassel on the left of his chest, watching as it swayed as he moved. yingxing smiled, at you. blood rushed up to your cheeks upon the rare sight of his gratitude towards your gift that he'd most definitely treasure endlessly.

it wasn't long before he pulled you by the waist while you watched the sun melt from a distance, feeling you warm body against his. yingxing's thumb rubbed circles against your side, making you chuckle.

oh, how you cherished every minute spent with the man you loved. simple moments of intimacy that never failed to make your heart race. silence drowned the lovers ahead, with one silently wishing to the aeons to make their relationship last, and the other hoping that he'll never have to spend another minute without you by his side.

the two were too busy being lost in each other's minds that they failed to notice baiheng capturing the moment with a camera that belonged to you, and jing yuan on the side gazing at the lovers like a proud wingman. guess you'd have to thank her for that later.

it hurt, it never really stopped hurting. yingxing healed you unknowingly, he cured the pain you endured silently by expressing his love for you. and now that he's no longer here with you, the pain became unbearable.

nevertheless, meeting new friends after almost a decade of being alone made everything a teeny tiny bit better. even though one of them was the mere reincarnation of an old friend of yours, yingxing's associate, dan feng.

meeting his reincarnation sure was confusing. he looked the same, but yet so different in so many ways. he goes by dan heng now. for some reason, the two of you got along very well, just like old times.

obviously, as part of the nameless, you were well aware of a specific organization known as the stellaron hunters to which yingxing, or should i say blade, is a member of.

he was an enemy to the astras express crew, to them, atleast. how could you ever hate someone you never stopped loving despite separation for so many years? that's right.

you thought the time where you would have to stand against your beloved would never come, so why were you panting infront of him under the pouring rain? gripping on your sword for dear life as blood streamed down your arm from the wounds he created.

he has changed, this moment was beyond your expectations but being surprised was nowhere to be found. he was your enemy, after all.

blade stood a few feet away from you, his bangs wet from the rain blocking his vision.

yingxing loved and accepted you, but blade discarded you.

for each time you caught his gaze on yours, it broke you to pieces seeing how there's practically no light to be found behind those eyes, just pure hatred. or so you thought.

blade was cursed to be damaged for eternity, cutting the hands of those who dared put his pieces back together, including the hands of the one he loved so dearly.

you wanted him to tell you everything, without leaving any details behind. you longed to feel him in your arms once again, feel that warmth of his that never failed to absolutely melt you. "x-xing.." your lungs were failing you.

"do not address me by that name." he spat, glancing over your fragile state, you were in the verge of breaking, and he did nothing about it. hearing his harsh tone felt like a million pieces of broken glass thrown against your way. you wished for him to hold you, tell you that everything's going to be alright and that he's right there, with you.

but your dreams were nothing but stupid desires.

"finish me off already." heavy breathing followed, using your sword to avoid falling to the ground and looking pathetic, like you weren't already. if you were anyone else, blade would've never hesitated and would grant your wish the moment you utter the words out. but you were more than that.

he launches at you, forcing you to engage in the duel, surrendering was not an option. "who taught you to be so weak? fight back." you immediately shielded yourself, his sword pressing against yours. his strength was unmatched.

blade pressured you to not give up, as if he wasn't already killing you slowly.

the fight between two people who were once peaceful, torn apart by fate. maybe, just maybe, in another life, they'd be able to freely love each other. there's no doubt that it would take long, after all, the worser fate than death is not being able to die.

your swords clashed, using your full strength to push him away from you. "stop.. pleas- fuck!" your arm ached, the same way your heart did.

i feel you forget me like i used to feel to breathe.

"waakee uuup~" you dragged the vowels on your tongue, kissing the white haired man sleeping soundly on your bed awake. feeling his hot breath against your face.

the sun shined brightly against his face, the face you would never get tired staring at. you could basically occupy yourself almost for an entire day just by admiring his pretty features.

"you're just wasting your time, don't you dare pity me any longer!" you screamed, furrowing your brows as you tossed your weapon aside, refusing to take part in this battle you know damn well you'd never win. the pain in your voice was easily noticed by the man before you, the grip he had on his weapon loosening. "pathetic. you know better than to prioritize your personal feelings over the battle ahead of you."

the rainstorm soon came to an end, just when you fucking needed it to conceal your tears you were so ashamed of showing. "you can't blame me, now can you? i'd rather you tear me to pieces than to live with the knowledge of you being my enemy."

"this is what we were destined to be, not even i could do anything to stop it for your radiance no longer leads my way." you wanted to scream the pain piercing your heart. your souls were bound to be against each other, and you gave yourself no right to accept such things.

blade walks away, refusing to see you suffer any longer than he could take. "i'd sacrifice anything just to feel your love again.." you whispered, loud enough for him to hear as clear as day.

"let go." was all he replied back, leaving you dumbfounded, your gaze stuck on his back as he disappeared into thin air.

you were willing to leave everything behind, give it all up just for him. but even that, he would never let you do such for his sake. for the love was there, but he simply refuses to be show vulnerability towards someone ever again, even to you.

your consciousness faded away, your body meeting the cold, wet ground. escaping reality to foolishly give the imaginary fragments of your mind indulge you for a while. considering that once you wake up, you'd have to face it all over again, as if it wouldn't kill you to live up to the fact that the probability of your relationship with him to be repaired was low, extremely.

"loving you was the most exquisite form of self destruction."

from xumi ; part 2 or nah? 🤕 reblogs r appreciated !!

stop making fanfics about characters raping and sexually assaulting y/n, you are fucking disgusting people who romanticize a serious crime that happens every day to children and women

"but that's just reading dark romance" that's not a dark romance, that's just the stuff of a horrible fetish, IF YOU HAVE A RAPE FETISH, GO SEEK FOR FUCKING PSYCHIATRIST HELP!!!!!!!!!!

Don't know what to write here so here's the master list

— [Masterlist] —

[Genshin impact]

Model!Y/n

Normality - part 1, part 2 (20%)

Y/n as character inside game [Series]

[Honkai Star Rail]

Bad news

Platonic Dan Heng, Welt, & Gallagher with a teen!reader that’s like Homura Akemi (From Puella Magi) but like they have a boss fight where reader is similar to Homulily (aka Homura’s witch form). Maybe after they’re defeated or when fighting them!

♡´･ᴗ･`♡

I absolutely love Homura, so I got really excited seeing this request, Anon!! I hope you'll like this!!<33

Content: Kind of spoilers for Homura's abilities as a witch?, vague descriptions of her abilities/appearance, angst, hurt/no comfort, blood, reader used to be under their care in some way, bossfight against reader, reader turns evil for unknown reasons, reader dies in two of them

Reader has no set pronouns!!

((Not proofread))

》GALLAGHER

Gallagher didn't know how it all turned out this way, and yet, he perhaps should've seen it coming too. He usually did. Now, standing before your twisted and near unrecognizable form, he found himself hesitating to protect the very place he was created to watch over all those years ago by Mkihail. But perhaps the old man should've also just taught him how to deal with the heartbreak he experienced at the realisation that he now had to fight you. The very kid he took under his wing.

Gallagher wasn't the type to plead and complain, however. He flicked his lighter open, deciding that things would come the way they should and needed to. What was another loss in the end? You were in pain under all the layers of hate you had become, a twisted witch as you called yourself. Someone who had to get rid of the rats that plagued the world cleanse it from the evil. Unaware that you had become the very thing you hated. He pitied you, deciding it was best to end it here by his own hands before someone else did.

You raised your arms in anticipation, your voice screeching in need for battle, and he simply chuckled. You were never the type for theatrics before you turned into this... but things have changed. He decided to play along with you one more time, as he summoned a Meme, unaffected by what may happen as he was assured he'd win. Even if it meant losing you.

》WELT YANG

This isn't the first nor the last time he had to fight against someone he cared for, and yet something about it still hurt him deeply. He thought that switching worlds would save him from that heartbreaking fate, yet you proved him wrong. You were a child that was taken in and raised by the express, a young teen that deserved to live a bright life despite never having gotten as far due to the consequences of your own actions. You turned into a witch, a grotesque monster that rivaled the strength of what he had seen in honkai abominations, and yet he still couldn't find it in his to hate you. Even if you attempted to end him through your own hate as well.

The fight was still unfair, however, as despite most of his Herrscher abilities being sealed, he still was able to beat you with the small fraction he still had. You were too young to control your abilities properly, too confused and disoriented with the sudden surge of power and strength beyond your own means, until it ultimately ended you. He simply stood over you as he watched you fade away into the morning sun, your body retaining it's original form, yet even then, did he not call onto the Astral Express. They didn't need to see you like this. They didn't need to try and save someone they couldn't.

And so as you took your last breaths, your hand weakly reached up to turn back time once more, yet he stopped you by placing his hand on yours and shaking his head silently. He figured you out at last. You couldn't help but smile for the first time at that bitterly, as you finally allowed yourself to rest with a final sigh in defeat.

》DAN HENG

Dan Heng knew things were getting bad when you forced him to take on his true form to deflect a near devastating attack from you. He had to stop you, save you. But he was running out of options, and you were relentless. You didn't give him a moments rest. You didn't let him think or regroup. You didn't let him call for help from your other companions. He couldn't do anything but dodged anything you threw at him seconds before it hit him, yet his heart couldn't allow him to attack you back.

His mind ran rampant with memories of you two watching over the Databank as he taught you everything he knew. You were like a younger sibling to him, a part of the family he was able to build when the Astral Express became his home all those years ago. And now it was all coming to an end right before his very eyes, when you began charging up an ability he knew would end him and perhaps even more if he didn't stop it.

He scared himself with the thought that ending your young life would be a form of mercy. He felt disgusted at his own thoughts, wondering if he had even learned anything at all from his rebirth, and yet he still pierced your witch form's heart with a swipe of his hand, knowing you couldn't survive it. But it was alright, as a part of him died with you too.

Okay, so this one was lowkey sad to write... but I enjoy the angst, so I hope this was fine for you, Anon, and thank you again for the great request!!<33

I can imagine yan!Jade offering you a sweet and tantalizing deal that just seems so harmless and fair, only for her to reveal it as a cleverly planned contract where you end up dependant on her because you couldn't have possibly noticed the trap hidden behind the sweet sentences and words that basically had you voluntarily give up all your possession.

She's basically the kind of yandere who'll use your dreams and goals to have you willingly trap yourself with her, using sweet words to blindfold you until it's too late.

Bad news

Sypnosis:

They receive the news of your death

Characters:

Gepard, Tingyun, Natasha, Hook

—

Gepard was quite happy at receiving a letter, it's quite rare to receive them at the frontline so he was eager to tear it open. He's used to people dying but he'll probably stand there in shock for a few moments before rushing to make sure the news is true.

Tingyun was off-world doing her job as an amicassador when she received the news. It probably won't hit her until later when the fact truly hits.

Natasha was in the clinic as usual when she received the news. She'll probably excuse herself before leaving, she knew people needed her right now but she just can't.

Hook will probably receive the news from Natasha, she won't accept it, she'll call whoever told her a liar and she'll run away to find you herself.

So while writing a previous post i realized something, this would work well in a yandere setting.

I mean, think about it, your favorite Penacony character who totally doesn't stalk you at all can act all normal and sane until you two get married and oops, looks like you can't divorce them now, time to reveal my true colors.

You can complain all you want about having your space invaded or having your acquaintances scared off but in the end the furthest you could go with them is marriage counseling.

Every marriage under Xipe is unbreakable and final, so dry up those tears and accept your life by their side.

It's not like you can leave them anymore anyway.

Masterlist;

Video games: 🎬

Obey me!

Call Of Duty MW2

Genshin Impact

Honkai Star Rail

Twisted wonderland

What in Hell is Bad? (whb)

Anime: 🎬

Jujutsu Kaisen

Hell's paradise

Devilman crybaby

Link Click

Manga: 🖇️

Bungo stray dogs

Midnight Clubbing sex

Sayonara red Beryl

Love hug therapy

Therapy game

Senpai, this can't be love

Agents of the four seasons

Age Matters

Wotakoi

The dangerous Convenience store

Midnight delivery sex

Love and let die

Series: 🖇️

Virgin Pool

Horny hours

Highest Bidder

Oblivious Waters

Carnal Pleasures

Sluts Of Sorrow

Poisoned by four

Hunting Winters

Husband's Without Hope

Other;

Slytherin boys

Banners; @mieczyslawn, @sharmanswife

OP, JJK, HSR, AND GENSHIN MEN AS ROMANCE TROPES

ENEMIES TO LOVERS

Ryomen sukuna, Roronoa zoro, Doflamingo, gojo satoru(?), blade, pantalone, childe, dottore, (your fav characters)

RICH X POOR

Gojo satoru, pantalone, (your fav character)

OPPOSITES ATTRACT

Mihawk, blade, dottore, danheng, ryomen sukuna, higuruma, kidd, katakuri, neuvilette (your fav character)

(reader is the opposite of them)

ACADEMIC RIVALS

Trafalgar Law, gojo satoru, fushiguro megumi, (your fav character)

GRUMPY x SUNSHINE

Grumpies :

Blade, Trafalgar law, megumi fushiguro, toji fushiguro, shiu kong, higuruma, mihawk, danheng, kidd, dottore, ryomen sukuna, roronoa zoro, neuvilette, (your fav character)

SUNSHINES :

yuuji itadori, monkey d. Luffy, portgas d. Ace, childe, ino takuma, gojo satoru, shanks, (your fav character)

FRIENDS TO LOVERS

monkey d. Luffy, gojo satoru, yuuji itadori, childe, portgas d. Ace, (your fav character)

BOSS X EMPLOYEE

jing yuan, blade, gojo satoru, higuruma, shiu kong, childe, dottore, pantalone, neuvilette, wriothesley, mihawk, doflamingo, (your fav character)

OP, JJK, HSR, AND GENSHIN MEN AS ROMANCE TROPES (2)

LOVE TRIANGLE:

Person 1 : gojo satoru, yuuji itadori, monkey d. Luffy, jingyuan, danheng, akagami no shanks, sanji, toji fushiguro, higuruma hiromi, kaeya, arataki itto, neuvilette, (your fav character)

Person 2 : geto suguru, ryomen sukuna, portgas d. Ace, blade, caelus, dracule mihawk, zoro, shiu kong, kusakabe, diluc, kamisato ayato, wriothesley, (your fav character)

ARRANGED MARRIAGE:

gojo satoru, jing yuan, toji fushiguro, naoya zenin, ryomen sukuna, diluc, kamisato ayato, (your fav character)

CHILDHOOD SWEETHEARTS :

higuruma hiromi, diluc, gojo satoru, jing yuan, sanji, portgas d. Ace, (your fav character)

AGE GAP :

Higuruma hiromi, toji fushiguro, akagami no shanks, dracule mihawk, jing yuan, ryomen sukuna, (your fav character)

SECOND CHANCE :

Gojo satoru, akagami no shanks, toji fushiguro, danheng, sanji, portgas d. Ace

THE WEDDING DATE :

gojo satoru, akagami no shanks, sanji, portgas d. Ace, toji fushiguro(you def had to pay for him to do it.), dan heng, higuruma hiromi

MAYBE IN ANOTHER LIFE/UNIVERSE (THOSE TYPA SHIT.) :

Gojo satoru, geto suguru, vinsmoke sanji, dan heng, jing yuan, yuuji itadori, megumi fushiguro, portgas d. Ace

ROMANCE TROPES ✧ ( hsr, gi, wuwa ) - part 3

ENEMIES TO LOVERS scar ( wuwa ), jiyan ( wuwa ) , blade ( hsr ), caelus/stelle ( hsr ) , dottore ( gi ) , wanderer ( gi )

FORBIDDEN LOVE dan heng ( hsr ) , scar ( wuwa )

ACADEMIC RIVALS alhaitham ( gi ), dr ratio (hsr)

GRUMP AND SUNSHINE

grumpies : jiyan , calcharo, alhaitham , dottore , pierro , diluc, blade, imbibitor lunae, dr ratio

im lazy to do more bruh