I Made The Time 👀 I've Been Wanting To Draw The Overblots.

The Caretaker

✂ Pairing: Yandere! Childe x Female! Reader

✂ Word Count: 1,7k+

✂ Trigger Warnings: Implied forced marriage, mention of manipulation

[Edited]

Do not re-upload my writing to another website or use it without my permission.

Keep reading

---

wounded

gyeong-su x gn!reader | 1.1k words

genre: slight angst, comfort, established relationship

warnings: swearing, canon-divergence, mentions of murder, kissing, blood, and aouad stuff.

synopsis: you were quietly looking around the room as everyone rushed to check on why gyeongsu wouldn't leave the recording room. you watched, keeping a close eye on nayeon. and right on time, you caught her red-handed.

author's note: you're welcome y'all /hj i need more gyeongsu gifs also

“Why won’t he come out of here? This stubborn idiot.”

You slowly stood up as everyone rushed over the glass window of the recording room while Mrs. Park walked in. They were all talking about why he wouldn’t leave and such things. Namra stayed on her seat, a bit further away from the others, and Nayeon unexpectedly walked over to the glass window with them. You took slow steps to follow behind her.

After everything the girl had put Gyeongsu through, you thought it’d be best to keep an eye on her. You didn’t know what she was capable of doing, how far she was willing to go, but you knew if anyone was more stubborn than Gyeongsu, it was her. And that scared you. If she was so stubborn and stuck on the idea of your boyfriend being infected, who knew what she would do to prove she was right?

Your hand grabbed onto her wrist harshly, holding it in place. She stilled in her movement completely and slowly looked up to meet your gaze. You looked calm, despite how hard your grasp on her arm was. You stared at her silently and lowered her arm. Down and away from the broken broom. “What are you doing?”

“Just… Just cleaning… the…”

Your gaze must’ve been too hard for her to hold, from how frantically she averted her eyes from your face. She paused to swallow thickly, as if searching for a credible answer to your question. She’d been caught off guard. Dare you say, caught red-handed.

“Cleaning what?” you asked quietly, purposefully getting closer to her face so only she would hear, “A zombie’s blood off a wooden stick? Are you planning to kill someone?”

Her eyes widened and she pushed you off, but your hand was still too tight on her wrist for her to shake it off. She desperately tried to move her arm, in vain. You heard the door of the recording room open and understood why she was so distressed at the idea of not being able to move away. She yelled out in frustration with a last, harsh attempt at getting her wrist out of your hand.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing? Let me go.” she said loudly; loudly enough to attract everyone’s attention. Even from the recording room, Gyeongsu seemed to have noticed the commotion. You scoffed with a smirk as Mrs. Park hurried over.

“[name], what are you doing? Let go of her wrist!” she exclaimed, hand moving to grab your hand before you spoke up.

“Maybe if she admits to attempted murder on her classmate.” you said steadily, eyes never leaving hers. She looked furious, irritated at being caught doing whatever it was she was attempting to do while everyone had their backs turned. But you didn’t relent. “So? Do you mind talking or should I do it for you?”

“That’s– You can’t accuse someone of attempted murder, [name], that’s far from being something to take lightly! I know things are very stressful for you and everyone else but it would be unfair to–”

“To let her try and kill Gyeongsu just because she can’t stand being wrong.” you cut her off, turning to look at her over your shoulder. “Right, teach’?”

She seemingly stumbled over her own words, before shaking her head. “Nayeon-ah. What does this mean?”

“Nothing! I wasn’t doing anything and this fucker just grabbed my fucking wrist!”

“They didn’t do it for no reason. Use your heads, for once.” Cheongsan chimed in, stepping closer. He furrowed his eyebrows and pointed to the girl’s hand. “She’s holding something.”

“My handkerchief.” Nayeon said, before scoffing and holding her head high, “What? I can’t have a handkerchief anymore? The fuck is wrong with all of you?”

“Nayeon-ah. Please hand it over.” the teacher said, extending her hand. Nayeon hesitated, and then looked at you coldly. You raised your eyebrows and moved her hand up for her.

“Do be careful with it, teach.” you said calmly, chuckling, “There’s zombie blood on this. Don’t touch it if your hands are injured.”

She made a confused face but grabbed the handkerchief. Her eyes widened as she inspected it, and glanced over the broken wooden stick they’d used to kill a zombie just earlier. The gears seemingly turned inside her head along your other classmates’ until they understood.

“This is a murder weapon, practically.” you said, nodding towards the piece of fabric. You tightened your hold on Nayeon’s arm and held it up as a harsh reminder of the predicament she put herself in and smiled. “And this is a murderer.”

You loosened your grasp on her wrist and she easily shook your hand off. You folded your hands behind your back and stepped aside, before turning around to face the rest of the group. You wore a calm smile on your face as you waited.

“What do we do?”

The teacher sighed and stepped forward. “Lee Nayeon. Were you really going to use this on Gyeongsu’s wound?”

“No! What do you think?!”

“Nayeon. Be honest. Please.”

“No, I… I just… I was just…”

“There’s no reason for you to be cleaning a fucking zombie-blood-stained wooden stick we used to kill a zombie, you fucking stuck-up bitch.” Jimin scoffed.

“Jimin, languag– Ah, nevermind, Just… Just quiet down. Nayeon, please just tell us the truth.”

“I… I just wanted to… Fuck, I just... I wanted... To make you all think that I was right when I said he was infected, I just–”

You walked past her, purposefully shoving her shoulder as you headed to the recording room. You opened the door and stepped in quietly, before closing it behind you. Gyeongsu was leaning against the table, staring at the room as he seemingly tried to understand what was going on. He turned to you the moment you stepped in and lightened up. “Hey. What’s going on out there? This girl being annoying again?”

You walked over to the chair he’d previously been sitting on and intertwined both your hands over the table. There was an odd silence for a few seconds before you slapped your hands on your face and screamed a muffled yell of frustration. You then put your hands back on the table and breathed calmly, acting as if nothing happened. Gyeongsu stared at you with wide eyes, obviously concerned.

“Are you okay…?”

To be honest, you were the one who wanted to murder someone. It took everything in you not to completely lash out, grab that bitch by her hair and hang her head over the edge of the window. It was so hard to keep your hand from twisting her arm until it ached. It was so hard not to punch her so she’d shut the fuck up. But you had to keep calm, because if you were too hysterical, they wouldn’t listen to you. Nevertheless it was unfair. She deserved to at least be punched. She tried to kill someone.

She tried to kill the person you’re dating, at that.

“Yes. Now that I’ve managed to stop her, I’m quite fine.” you said, smiling as you looked at him. “Now, you owe me one. Nayeon was trying to kill you.”

His eyes widened even more and he ran over to where you were sitting. “What?! What do you mean?”

You nodded towards the glass window of the recording room and Gyeongsu followed your gaze. Nayeon was crying and Namra was talking to her, seemingly annoyed while the other girl stammered over what she tried to say. Cheongsan rushed towards her before anyone could stop him and pushed her so harshly she almost fell. Suhyeok held him back, and you chuckled a bit. It looked like she was still trying to explain herself, before the teacher pulled her aside to another corner of the room and sat her down with her. You scoffed. “She was wiping blood from zombies on a handkerchief. She was planning to put it on your scratch.”

The boy instinctively looked down at the wound at the mention of it and frowned, scoffing. He wrapped his hand around it as if the blood was actually about to touch his wound, and you put your hand on his as an attempt at comforting him.

“Honestly I talked to her and everyone like I was certain that’s what she planned, but part of me was scared I was actually completely wrong. Then everyone would hate me, or something. But there was no reason for her to be wiping that blood that seemed as… Terribly logical as the one I came up with. Turns out I was right.”

Gyeongsu fell down on what he expected to be the chair but ended up falling on the floor. You laughed despite everything and held out your hand. He scoffed a chuckle and grabbed it as you got up to give him the chair back. You sat on the table instead and exhaled.

“So I almost just got killed.” he said, nodding to himself like he couldn’t realize it. You pursed your lips and sighed, looking down.

“Yup.” you said, “You did.”

He ran his hands over his face before holding them up on the top of his head. From the looks of it, it looked like he wanted to punch her very much, too. Understandably so. But he only gulped and nodded, before taking a deep breath.

He looked up at you and grabbed your hand. “Thanks.”

You smiled. “Why, of course. Now I’m counting on you to save me if I need it at some point, okay?” you said with a grin, trying to lighten the atmosphere. He waved his hand in dismissal, pulling off that overly-confident smile of his.

“Obviously!” he scoffed, before grabbing your chin to bring you down to his level. He had a small smile on his lips when he kissed the corner of your lips.

“Who do you take me for?” then he smiled fondly and kissed you properly.

And you grinned. You knew both of you were dead scared, despite your attitudes. It was frightening to think that if you hadn’t noticed, Gyeongsu might’ve just turned into a zombie as well. So when you pulled away you immediately wrapped your arms around him as tightly as you could, and he exhaled and reciprocated the hug just as tightly. You both needed it. You could feel it.

This was nice-- Better. You felt relieved. Finally.

---

Deluge. Yan Scaramouche x F Reader

Warnings: Yandere themes, unhealthy relationships, pregnancy mentions and not SFW themes. Word count: 3.5k.

The strum of a koto beneath your fingertips fills the atmosphere with a serene serenade.

Each deliberate pluck and twang resonates throughout the lonely courtyard as if it were a theatre with you upon the stage, performing to an absent audience. The ballad you lace together blends into the billowing breeze. Over the looming eaves, through the barren tree branches, and into clouds weighed down by future precipitation.

You’d like to think your playing will become one with the atmosphere, traveling further than you ever could. That with each raindrop, if one were to listen close enough, they’d hear the string’s gentle vibrato and be compelled to search for you. All you’d need to do is wait patiently and continue strumming your koto, guiding them to you with various melodies. They’d be strong, noble of heart, and selfless in their endeavors to free you from your picturesque prison. What a perfect, idyllic ending that’d make — just like the fairytales you read growing up where the princess is rescued by her prince.

Keep reading

---

Strangers (Chapter Five)

Strangers from Hell AU

Series Masterlist

pairing: ot7 x reader

genre: yandere, horror/thriller

warnings: murder, mature themes, obsessive/possessive behavior, emotional manipulation, stalking, violence, blood and injuries (will update as needed)

word count: 4.5k words

The next morning was a Saturday and your body could surely feel it. You blinked your groggy eyes open, wondering if you should sleep in a bit more. The bright sunlight cascading through the window told you it was probably getting a bit late, even if it was the weekend. Rolling over to check the time on your phone, your eyes widened when you saw it was almost noon.

“Shit,” you grumbled, mustering up the energy to sit up with your feet on the floor. Blinking hazily, you tried to make sense of your worn out body. Sure, you had a long week but was it normal to feel this tired? It was probably just the alcohol you drank the night before.

Figuring a shower should help you wake up a bit, you grabbed a towel and a change of clothes and made your way up to the upper floor. You couldn’t help your gaze drifting to the plastic curtain hiding the rest of the upstairs hallway as you passed by it. The memory of Yoongi catching you that night replayed in your mind, feeding into your curious nature even more. You knew you would eventually have to see what was behind that curtain, whether Jimin liked it or not.

The water cascading down your face and body seemed to do the trick, your senses coming more alert with each passing second. Your eyes closed as you rinsed the shampoo out of your hair, fingers working through the strands. The sound of the shower was loud in your ears but calming, distracting you from your surroundings. So much so that when you heard a muffled thump from behind you, your peaceful bubble burst.

“Hello?” You called out, peeking behind the curtain to look out at the empty communal bathroom. The one that was supposed to only be for you as you were currently the only female tenant in the building. Heart thrumming in your chest, you quickly finished your shower and turned the water off. Your mind felt frozen as you began drying off and dressing, trying to make sense of what you heard.

Peering out into the hallway, you felt a mix of relief and confusion wash over you to see it was empty. You knew you heard something, you were so certain it sounded like a person was in the room. 

Keep reading

---

sincerely,

yours truly (part one). / sincerely (part two).

premise: your diligent efforts to uncover the identity of your secret admirer had ultimately amounted to nothing. in fact, your investigations only raised more questions — your companions' strange behaviors and shifty-eyed gazes hadn't completely escaped from your awareness, not to mention you've become... privy to some of their affections...

and what is the last thing you need while trying to search for one person who liked you? more people to like you, of course!

but that is exactly what you receive. (goddamn it all.)

includes: zhongli, kaeya, scaramouche, itto & the real secret admirer !

note: oh god i have done it. it's even longer than the other one but since this is the 10k celebration fic, it's only rightfully so! i hope you enjoy this... likes and reblogs are appreciated <33 please read the first part if you haven't already!

zhongli:

all things considered, zhongli is an unrelated figure to your personal issues, not particularly concerned with such trifling matters. you lived worlds apart, and he's generally preoccupied by his own studies anyway, too absorbed in his thesis to mind who has a crush on who and whatnot.

yet it seems as if fate is intent on pulling you two together whether you like it or not.

you belong in different majors, your lecture halls on opposite sides of campus, and he's an upperclassman. not to mention the upperclassman everyone looks up to, the senior equivalent of albedo. though he holds an air of benevolence and warmth, he's unapproachable in the way nobody would dare impose themselves in fear of bothering him with their presence.

professors only speak of his name in accordance with endless words of praise, and legend has it that any paper he proofreads is guaranteed to receive a high grade... not that anyone could confirm it, since nobody has been gifted that luxury.

except for you, of course, living the y/n life — you'd been slaving away on your assignments per usual at diluc's cafe when, in a moment of misfortune, zhongli had crashed into a waiter and spilled his coffee on your papers, soaking pale sheets in brown splatters and smudging the inked sentences you'd painstakingly written for the past hour.

if only your laptop hadn't run out of battery, you wouldn't have resorted to drafting with pen and paper. or you could have done your work in a later date instead of being productive for nothing. fuck.

witnessing your expression crumpled to disbelief and misery, zhongli apologized through offering his assistance in doing your assignment with you. and oh boy, he did it well. it was better than what you could've ever done, the insight he provided beyond profound. he was humble even as you showered him with compliments, still looking quite apologetic for the fiasco he caused.

and. right. it could've ended there. after that occasion, you would wave at him if you passed by each other at the hallways, but that's where the extent of your relationship ended, a pair of underclassman and upperclassman who'd known each other once.

but of course it's never that easy.

he pops up when you least expect it, running into you frequently even though the rumors articulated “you'd hardly get a glimpse of him since he's busy all the time” clearly. and he's acquainted with people you know well, just that you never paid attention to it; keqing seems to respect him a lot, so does xiao, ganyu perks up whenever he's brought up in conversations, and childe sticks to him when given the opportunity. perhaps it was only a matter of time that you begin a friendship with him as well...

but what's up with these horribly timed drama tropes you keep experiencing with him?!

bumping into him and dropping your books to the floor so he offers to walk you to the library, locked into a room when a professor asks you to collect materials for class with him and the door has a faulty knob, getting photographed by a student while you study in the same table and everyone assumes you're dating,,

you've been seeing far too much of him.

everyone's patience has been wearing thin. xiao tries his best to keep his annoyance at bay but fails. childe has resorted to bribing zhongli for free lunch to lead him away from you. albedo straight up drags you to the opposite direction whenever he spots zhongli within vicinity.

but it's like there's a force of nature compelling you to stick right back to him.

hosting events for college fests had never been your kind of thing, but attention follows you if you're acquainted with famous people, and keqing was unwilling to be an emcee if she didn't have a friend alongside her to act as a second host. of course, that meant everyone was deadset on dragging you with her.

you're not very keen on standing on a stage to face the whole school like a kid participating in a talent show, but you've never been good at saying “no” to your friends.

hence why you find yourself clutching on a microphone now, blinded by bright stage lights. you would much prefer if you were part of the audience. or if you were in ayaka's place instead, holding up cue cards behind the curtains.

there's some kind of beauty pageant going on, a popularity contest for the prettiest people in uni. votes are collected via online polls, and you're tasked to reveal the top 10. you don't doubt for a second your friends will all join you on stage eventually, and you've already asked ganyu to drag xiao up the platform if he tries to escape. sweeping off a piece of confetti by your shoulder, you flip open the folden paper in your hand and announce the winning names.

zhongli steps up as one of the candidates for first place and you faintly hear gasps of awe and high pitched squeals.

you nod at him in acknowledgement, and he returns the gesture in kind. you head on over to hand him a mic of his own, keqing busying herself by doing the same job for other contestants, and...

in your carelessness, distracted by fumbling with the paper in your hand to hide it back inside your pocket, you trip over an electrical cord.

you've been waiting the entire night for the time where you'll eventually embarrass yourself in front of a crowd. perhaps a voice crack in what's supposed to be a tense situation, a stutter in your words, falling off a stage even, but here it is, even more horrifying than what you could've imagined.

squeezing your eyes shut instinctively, you brace yourself for the hard surface to tumble onto. instead, what meets you is something squishy, someone's hands gripping around your shoulders, and-

FUCK. you banged your knees on the ground.

the first thing to pop in your mind is a myriad of swears that could stun a sailor.

the second is the oddly plush surface your lips had landed on.

the third is the sight of widened golden eyes. they look very familiar. but you'd rather not think about who they belong to.

the ugly screech of the microphone dropping to the floor is drowned out by gasps, yelling, and the scandalized choke of keqing behind you. xiao — who did end up being a contender for the stupid popularity contest and is standing only a few meters away, makes an alarming noise that could trigger a person's fight or flight reaction.

you hastily attempt to rise to your feet, but the floor is slippery what the actual fuck, and zhongli, oh for fuck's sake, innocent and oblivious zhongli grabs your hips to keep you steady.

.....of course the accidental kiss and caught in a compromising position tropes were going to happen eventually.

kaeya:

“it's from me.”

your gaze travels from the fresh, new bouquet of flowers emitting a sweet fragrance lying in your arms, and the face of the man currently standing before you, lips curled in what seems to be a supposedly reassuring smile.

“you mean... this and the carnations last time?”

his lips are still firmly quirking upwards, admirably patient in spite of reiterating the same phrase over and over again whenever probed with your repetitive questions.

still, he doesn't quite give off the impression of someone deeply infatuated.

and okay, not to be narcissistic, but you expected a secret admirer to... well, admire you more, yet this person looks as nonchalant as ever.

and he doesn't look like the type to profess love through subtle means. at all.

you'll be blunt. you've heard of kaeya. who hasn't? whether it be of mischief, or something more scandalous in nature, he's more or less always involved with trouble, gossip about him traveling fast. it may be an insane prank in the boys' dormitory or someone he bedded (who's supposedly out of everyone's league, yet fell for his charms so easily), you hear of his name quite often.

it's just that you didn't expect you'd associate yourself with him...

and if you have at least two brain cells to rub together, you can easily piece together the conclusion: this guy is definitely talking out of his ass.

nobody has ever heard of kaeya pining over someone so badly that he personally sent bouquets and other small gifts to appease them, admiring them from the shadows. it's so clearly not his style. if he likes someone, he'd flirt with them a bit and cleverly worm his way into their heart, and absolutely not give away presents expecting nothing in return.

but if he's not your secret admirer, then for what reason is he pretending like he is?

you want to seek the truth, and playing along for the meantime sounds like the best option. and this may draw out the real secret admirer, the sly part of you voices internally.

thinking it'll be rude to turn him down publicly (since of course he initiated this exchange in the middle of a crowd, and that only gives you more reason to doubt him), you decide to see how things go first.

if anything, this whole “wooing” business with kaeya seems like it's done out of spite. does he have a bone to pick with you? or he made one of those stupid “it'll only take a week for you to fall for me” bets with his friends? hopefully not, because that's terribly out of trend.

your indifferent responses do nothing to deter him from sticking to you like glue though, doing this and that to earn your favor. he's... not doing anything wrong, actually. if you didn't know any better, you'd think he's like any other eager guy who wants to receive your love.

he does a great job of remembering what things you like and dislike, making a habit of inviting you out for a meal in your favorite restaurants every now and then or taking note of what movies you're looking forward to so you could watch it in the cinema together.

... it feels more like hanging out with normal friends now.

kaeya eases into the idea of that notion, too, insisting on meeting you outside of his shady “i'm your secret admirer” business. it doesn't take too long until you begin to reach out to him as well, inviting him to go shopping with you to look at jewelry together (and dear lord, does kaeya know how to accessorize) or giving him a ticket to the amusement park when kokomi bails on you. (“so i' m just a rebound? a back-up plan?” kaeya arches a questioning brow, acting deeply hurt to provoke a reaction. you smack his shoulder and he laughs in mirth.)

(he definitely tries for the “let's go to the haunted house so you can cling to me when you're scared” cliche but fails. why does he feel disappointed though...)

if given more time, maybe the time would come where you'll both just shrug off the secret admirer thing and continue on normally as friends. it'll be the last thing on your minds, a joke that never had a punchline. just some prank kaeya didn't see through the end.

but then it resurfaces when kaeya had already given you your daily dose of coffee — yes, he somehow knows the secret recipe you like, something you plan to ask him about later — but another cup is waiting at your desk, its once warm temperature turning lukewarm.

you inspect it, judging for yourself, and you confirm it's the same recipe you like.

so this one is from the real secret admirer then, the one who's still hiding in the shadows. that, or this recipe is just popular.

the people residing in the same room as you observe the scene with interest, because apparently your romance drama became a spectator sport, stares pinned in kaeya's direction.

you knew he was a fraud from the very start, but others do not, and he's not sure what to say.

someone else makes the excuse for him. “do you have another person who likes you, [name]?” amber asks innocently, essentially saving kaeya's ass without her realizing it. you let your gaze shift from her to kaeya.

“...maybe.” you place the two cups of coffee side-by-side, feigning nonchalance.

if the real secret admirer found out that someone's pretending to be him, this must be his way of saying kaeya's a fraud in front of everyone. after all, if he was actually the secret admirer, there'd be no need for kaeya to give you another cup when he'd already placed one on top of your desk.

and a couple of people already know who the real one is, anyway. xiao just doesn't want to tell you.

kaeya sends what seems to be a longing gaze your way but ends up turning away to head to his own classroom. he'd only offered to walk you towards yours, and you didn't share classes. it gives you more time to ponder how to confront him.

you didn't have to. he explained things himself.

it comes in the time you least expect, a peaceful lunch like any other. he suddenly arrived at your table, tray in hand, and sat opposite of you. “it's not me,” is the first thing he says, no context at all. he admits the obvious truth and you shovel more food in your mouth in your hopes of hiding how curious you are for what else he has to say.

“but i know who's been giving you flowers... and the coffee. also the chocolate the other day. i helped him pick out the presents, actually.” and that's where you choke because that's not what you were expecting at all.

“he was considering sending a love letter, but i told him you'd recognize his handwriting because you know him very well. and he refused to give a printed letter because he thought it was 'lacking' and you deserved better than that.” he scoffed at the thought. “and that's cute of him. endearing, if you will. but he seriously pissed me off last month and i wanted to mess with him a bit.”

“so you... tried to date the person he likes?” your expression sours. that's a dick move. he immediately shakes his head, as if to say perish the thought.

“not that. i knew for a fact you wouldn't like me anyway. i was just teasing him,” kaeya huffs. “and he got angry at me. well, it's a justified reaction. but i didn't plan on keeping up the charade for long. i only wanted to fool around for a few days.”

“and then?”

“...i missed the timing to pass it off as a joke. then we started to hang out like friends. but i assured him that you didn't actually think i was the real secret admirer, so he forgave me as long as i... do some work for him.”

oh. he's right about that though. and that also explains why kaeya looked so tired recently, helping out a friend with his project as a sincere apology.

“does he plan on revealing his identity anytime soon?” you can't help but ask, your eager eyes betraying the nonchalance in your voice. kaeya sighs at that, leaning back on his chair and crossing his arms.

“i've been trying to convince him to. it's exhausting to look at him flailing about like an idiot. he talks about you all the time.” he frowns at the way your cheeks color. “you should try luring him out.”

you tilt your head in question. to show his point, he reaches out his arm, grabbing your hand. you let him do as he pleases, even as he brings the spoonful of your meal to his lips, and takes a bite out of it.

distantly, you hear a metal clatter against the floor and a voice cry out in surprise. you turn your head towards the noise, and you see—

the hell. it's just bennett tripping.

... but it's not like bennett dropped a metal utensil or anything. he is the one who cried out, though.

“wrong direction, sweetheart. you were supposed to look at the right. what a shame, you didn't see him picking up his fork like a fool.” kaeya laughs, releasing your hand from his grip.

he seems strangely reluctant in doing so, but you decide not to look further into it.

scaramouche:

at best, he is an unwilling spectator.

emphasis on “unwilling” because he truly does not wish to see you. like at all. you're pretty sure he hates your guts, but he'd amassed a lifetime's worth of misfortune and keeps seeing you... and the guys around you.

it's safe to say if your love life was turned into a k-drama, he'd probably seen the entire series.

he'd walked in on you when childe confessed he likes you, purple eyes narrowed into a sharp glare before he turned on his heel and left the room. he'd seen the way xiao looks at you, starstruck and excruciatingly fond, because of course scaramouche sat beside him in class (long, long ago they settled a mutual agreement to not speak to each other unless necessary, even if they hadn't verbally discussed it). he'd seen you at diluc's cafe, too, when diluc poured coffee at the angry customer. scaramouche's clothes were stained, as he was the customer sitting beside your table.

he'd seen you with kazuha when kazuha came to pick you up in the rain. he'd seen albedo draw sketches of you in the corner of his notes. he'd seen thoma with you while out for grocery shopping. he'd seen gorou follow after you not unlike a loyal puppy.

he's, reasonably, tired of seeing your stupid face and your stupid harem and he hates you.

by the looks of it, none of your friends like him. especially mona. she had a few arguments with him already. they didn't mix well, and scaramouche liked poking fun of the astrology she loved, a firm disbeliever of such things. “how is my birthday supposed to dictate my personality? or my relationship status? is this fortune-telling? tell me, then. what's my lucky color for the day-” and he only shut up when mona landed a clean kick to his shin.

...yeah. he's kind of an asshole. the type to scowl 24/7, glare at you for no reason, and bump into you without apologizing. then when you do try to make small talk to alleviate the awkward atmosphere, he scoffs and pointedly ignores you.

but you can't blame him for finding you and... the guys following you irritating. you imagine it must be an eyesore for outsiders. there's already quite a bit of rumors about you going around seducing men (and women, you add, because apparently you can't be friends with pretty girls without having those kinds of intentions... and yoimiya and ayaka could be somewhat touchy) and rumors are almost always wildly changed with each pass of gossip from one person to another.

of course your friends don't believe it one bit and are ready 24/7 to defend your honor, but scaramouche is very obviously not your friend, and he may regard you with something less than pleasing.

it's only understandable you're caught by surprise when you chance upon him picking a fight with people badmouthing you, shoving a boy to the wall with brute force you wouldn't expect from someone his size. (you berate yourself for making fun of his height in this kind of situation.)

“shut the fuck up,” scaramouche drawls out, fisting the boy's shirt collar. “your voice is grating to the ears. surely, you have better things to do than yap nonsensical bullshit out in the open?”

“what's your fucking problem?!” the guy responds, panicking within his grip. “it's not like we were talking about you! don't think so highly of yourself!”

that prompts a scoff from him, and he tightens his hold on the boy's collar. he immediately shuts his mouth, thinking it better not to retaliate. scaramouche's glare promises something beyond simple violence if he continued to act prideful.

somwhat satisfied by the fear glistening in the guy's eyes, scaramouche finally releases him. “scram.”

the group runs off, and you quickly duck behind a wall to hide from his sight as he walks away. you're not sure what to feel, conflicted by his usual prick demeanor and shockingly kind(?) actions behind the scenes.

unfortunately, your confusion reflects directly on your face. after a handful of times catching you staring at him, he finally snaps, “what do you want.”

your expression twists into something complex, and scaramouche's frown deepens. “uh... no, it's nothing, really...”

“you've been looking at me all day. do you take me for a fool?”

your face sours. so much for planning to thank him. maybe he didn't stand up for you and actually just found the noisy gossiping annoying enough to choke a guy and pin him to the wall. if it's scaramouche, it isn't too far-fetched at all.

and what were you going to say to him, anyway? it's not like he explicitly stated he did it for you. it would be beyond mortifying if you thanked him for it and he clarified that little detail, thinking you were stuck-up enough to assume the world revolves around you.

... no, that's too much overthinking, isn't it...

“well?” scaramouche impatiently taps his foot, raising an eyebrow expectantly. you hold back a defeated sigh and decide to stay put.

“sorry if i made you uncomfortable. i was, um, looking at...” who does he sit with again? “xiao!” you mentally apologize to your friend, using his name as an excuse.

impossibly, he becomes more irate than before, his taps ceasing into a calm quiet. the silence pierces more than the tense conversation prior.

without another word, he walks away.

...well. okay. that was safely evaded.

life continues on per usual. you don't interact for the next week, and you want to leave it at that.

except your life is a joke. a romantic comedy you never wanted to be a part of.

...you're assigned to a group project. with him. with childe too, no less. the childe who confessed his love to you not too long ago and you still have problems wrapping your head around it, not sure how to talk with him like you did before.

amidst this drama, scaramouche is stuck smack dab between you. he's unquestionably furious.

he's present when childe looks at you in the same excruciating way xiao does. he's present when childe tries to make jokes to ease off the tension, and it doesn't work in the slightest. he's present in the lingering gazes, awkward pauses when you graze fingers as you hand materials to each other, and reluctant conversations that never last any longer than seven clipped sentences.

scaramouche feels wronged. had he committed a war crime in his past life to deserve this despair?

and you. you just want to get this over with. collect information, make a powerpoint, and present in front of the whole class. easier said than done.

the three of you together doesn't sit right with you, but left with only two isn't any better either. childe and scaramouche don't get along if you leave them long enough for an argument to brew. scaramouche hates you and doesn't fill the silence when childe leaves for a bathroom break. childe tries too hard to talk when scaramouche leaves for a coffee break.

when the first day of working together ends, you nearly cry tears of joy.

“i can walk you home,” childe offers out of goodwill. it's certainly not because he has other intentions in mind, he's just concerned since it is pretty late.

“we take the same bus,” scaramouche speaks, for the first time joining your conversation. “we can go together.”

childe smiles in relief, lifting a hand to ruffle your hair. then he stills. old habits die hard. damn.

for his sake, you don't comment on it. you walk out of the library, scaramouche in tow.

the stroll to the empty bus stop isn't a comfortable one, but at the very least, you're accompanied by an acquaintance and you don't have to feel anxious being alone. you take a seat as you wait but scaramouche chooses to remain standing, placing a fair amount of distance between you.

“...you haven't made up?”

his voice is small, almost swallowed by the howling winds. you're surprised he wants to talk about it, but you laugh. “we didn't fight or anything.”

“fighting would've been better,” he replies. “an apology could still repair your relationship. but there's nothing you can do if you don't see him that way, and he can't see you as a friend.”

you look down at your feet, heels resting firmly against the pavement. “yes... it's tricky. i don't know how to act around him. i don't want to hurt him, but... maybe not rejecting him is painful, too.”

“then turn him down properly.”

“it's not that easy...”

“would you rather him still have hopes for a chance with you and eventually get disappointed instead of dealing with it once and for all?”

he makes an excellent point. it's reasonable enough... but you don't know how to bring it up with childe. not now. not yet. you'll have to think about it properly, the way to reject him with the least amount of discomfort from his side.

“receiving relationship advice from you... if someone told me this would happen today, i'd think they've gone mad.” you chuckle. “do you deal with friends whining about hardships like these often?”

“apparently, they think of me — someone who has no interest in dating — as the perfect person to consult for relationship problems.”

“hm? you don't date? do you like anyone, at least?”

he gives you a look. it's perfectly blank, devoid of his usual arrogance or irritation. you blink at him, the pause in the conversation stretching too long to be comfortable.

“you could say that. but i don't... try things i know won't work out.”

“...like?”

he rolls his eyes. “think about it this way.” he removes his hands from his pockets, approaching your seated figure. he comes startlingly close, mere centimeters away, and his fingers curl around your wrist. your lips part and close, and you wonder if he's trying to kiss your knuckles-

“if i told you now that i like you, with this many people who like you too, there's no way i'd win, is there?”

it's an example, you tell yourself. you asked him a question and he answered it.

“...so the one you like is popular...”

but his gaze looking directly into your eyes is too earnest, too honest. sincere. light reflects against the violet pools, a turbulent storm clouding within.

you neither nod nor shake your head. the bus arrives and you scramble to get on it.

scaramouche pulls you by the wrist when you nearly trip over the small set of stairs, leading you to a pair of seats. if you have something to be grateful for, it's that he doesn't try to talk anymore, using the pair of headphones resting by his neck for the rest of the ride.

itto:

itto barges into your life in a whirlwind of chaos.

it comes in the form of a stray volleyball plummeting towards your back, and the sheer force behind it knocks the wind out of your lungs. your knees buckle and you kneel on the floor, heaving violent gasps of air. the searing pain makes you wonder if you broke your spine.

distantly, a screech bellows from the court. a figure almost flies past the gymnasium's doors to check on your condition. “are you okay?!” it's gorou, you realize, his eyes blown wide with panic.

you don't want to worry him and say you feel as if you've permanently shattered a bone, but your back hurts like a bitch and you tell him so, “fuck me with a hammer, did a bowling ball crash into me or something?”

he ignores your interesting choice of words and answers, “my friends and i were playing volleyball, i'm so sorry! we didn't see you there at all!”

you steer your sight to the gymnasium entrance and oh my god. the doors aren't especially massive, and one of them is even closed, so what are the chances you walk past the small space and precisely get slammed by a stray ball? it's gotta be lower than a five star drop in gacha.

“can you stand?” gorou holds up a hand for you to take but you really can't move away from your fetal position without an explosion of ache jolting through your body. he's three seconds away from offering to carry you when someone else beats him to it.

“did you get hurt?!” a blur of white hair passes through your eyes, and you blink up at an unfamiliar man. gorou's friend, you're guessing, most likely the one who injured you too — that powerful force from the volleyball could only come from someone like him. tall, athletic, muscular. he's ripped. shredded. probably tore your muscle fibers too.

you don't let the pain cloud your mind. he didn't mean to kill you, you remind yourself. you stretch your lips into a smile, but it may just look like a grimace.

however, with a gentleness you didn't expect from him, he carefully hoists you on his back. oh. he's strong. and really warm.

...sticky with sweat too, but you'll try not to mind it too much...

“i'll carry you to the infirmary!”

your brain clears up from the haze of agony. “...wait, you don't have to-” before you get another word in, he rushes to the clinic, and you bypass many, many people. you settle for hiding your face as best as you can.

after proper treatment, he gives you a serious apology. you learn his name is itto, and you instantly recognize him. you've heard of the name itto before, that one popular student on a sports scholarship for basketball, but he's known more for goofing off with other sports teams. he's broken a lot of windows when he played baseball... and probably also broke bones of other people when he roughhoused too much on the soccer field. it's just that he's insanely talented, enough for most people to overlook his troublesome tendencies.

anyhow, famous or infamous, you can't tell yet. but he's very much willing to make up for your injury.

a free meal would honestly suffice just fine, but even after that, he insists on following you around, offering his assistance whenever needed. and, well. you have no problems with having an extra hand to help when you need to carry heavy equipment.

then he learns about the whole secret admirer thing and he proposes he'll help you lure him out.

“and how do you intend to do that...?” you inquire just as you enter the lecture hall, itto trailing after you and setting your bag on the table. his face splits into a grin and you have a vague idea of what he plans on doing.

he wraps an arm around your shoulders and tugs you close to his chest.

several things happen at once. a huff leaves xiao's mouth involuntarily. the crack of pencil lead breaking into pieces sounds from beside him, scaramouche holding the pen in his hand with too much force. the laughter ringing seconds prior comes to a halt, childe's face no longer displaying a bright smile.

itto blinks, retracting his arm. he didn't expect this outcome. “you have really overprotective friends, [name].”

as one would expect, you never got the results you want because too much people react to his provocations. it's tricky to pinpoint which one of them exactly is your secret admirer when they all like you the same. (this whole situation is truly absurd. it's not that you fed all these guys love potions by accident, right?)

itto doesn't dare upsetting gorou with this though, but with anyone else, it's free game. he begins calling you the most ridiculous pet names he could come up with, in the wrong place and in the wrong time.

my precious cupcake. my sweetest honeybun. little ducky. snugglepuff. they send shivers down your spine. (albedo is noted to be most affected when itto does this. it's not hard to imagine his brain cells frying when itto shamelessly calls you by such awful names.)

but then it becomes a habit. he's not doing it ironically anymore. his mouth had become accustomed to addressing you in manners only lovers do. more often than not, your friends would be caught by surprise when he wholeheartedly calls out “babe” to earn your attention and you turn towards him as if it's like the most natural thing in the world.

the cherry on top is when you attend one of his games for the basketball team.

it's not like you wore his varsity jacket to rub into everyone's faces the fact that you're dating. nor did you wear a cheerleader outfit of some sorts to show your passionate support as his significant other. you'd only come with gorou and kokomi, waving the banner the three of you made into the air as you were seated in the stands along the sides of the court.

when they won the finals, people on your side all rejoiced, flocking over to the team to praise them and offer their congratulations. thinking it would be better to stand by instead of joining the sweaty crowd, you stood aside with kokomi while gorou insisted on diving headfirst to the sea of people.

then a tall head approaches from afar. white hair, bright eyes, and a similarly blinding smile. “[name]!”

you didn't expect him to come to you. well. spares you the effort then. you throw a towel around his neck. “you're drenched in sweat. please don't touch me.”

he frowns. “not even a congratulatory hug?”

“not when you're this gross.”

at least that wasn't a stern no. itto grins. “wasn't i great out there?” he cards his fingers into his hair, fishing for compliments. you thought he had enough of those from the crowd currently swarming him. “i did a ton of 3 pointers. you saw me, right?”

“would you be disappointed if i said i was on my phone the whole time?”

immediately, his face twists into an offended look. of course that was a lie. you laugh and lean on the tips of your toes to reach his hair, ruffling it into a mess. “kidding. you were amazing, babe.”

that moment, you hadn't seen his expression clearly, occupied with patting his head. perhaps you hadn't even realized what you called him.

but to everyone around you, they could see it, plain to the eye — the shock in his gaze, the small twitch of his lips, the rise of his brows. then his cheeks flush a lovely color as he stares at you under his lashes with a hesitance as one would look at the sun, longing to admire its radiance yet afraid to be scorched by its brilliant rays.

he takes the leap anyways, staring at you as long as he wanted.

a lovestruck fool, keen to your touch.

your secret admirer.

relatively speaking, it's an ordinary day so far.

or as ordinary as it can be with a life as silly as yours. the past few weeks didn't feel real. you wish they weren't. everything has become too complicated. everyone kept on acting suspiciously and skirting around you, avoiding eye contact only to observe you from behind.

your day starts out seeing thoma when you open your front door, both of you telling each other good morning. you pass by kazuha having breakfast at a fast food joint. then you run into itto first thing in the morning, where he gladly helps in carrying a 3d model of your project into class. kaeya swings by to bring you coffee since you didn't get a chance to visit diluc's cafe, not having the extra hand to carry among the pile you already have. you make your daily greetings, saying hi to your friends and annoying xiao, as you always do. you nod towards scaramouche, and you even had enough courage to say hi first to childe too. when walking to another lecture hall, you happen to meet albedo, gorou and zhongli in separate times.

then at lunch time, when you briefly leave your belongings alone for a moment, someone leaves a packet of candies stuffed into your bag.

a sticky note is stuck on the surface, “please meet me at the physics classroom at 6 p.m.” scrawled in black ink.

the penmanship is good. it twists in elegant curls at the edges, brush strokes light and even.

you're able to recognize it at first glance, just as kaeya has told you.

you've seen it enough times to burn it in your brain. you've rigorously studied notes with that same handwriting, after all.

at 5:56, you stand in front of the classroom doors. in different circumstances, you'd have second thoughts before blindly following somebody's orders but you know who it's from, and it is decidedly not a murderer out to get you.

you collect an intake of breath, and twist the doorknob.

the last traces of sunlight bathe the room in a heavenly glow, a haze of aureate like shimmering flecks of gold. the billowing curtains hide the figure standing by the windowsill, the gentle breeze caressing your cheeks as you squint in its direction.

the figure moves of their accord, the sound of a book snapping shut following their actions.

albedo walks out, a serene smile displaying on his sun-kissed face.

“...hey.”

your heartbeat pounds in your ears. though you expected his appearance, it does nothing to dull your surprise.

“it's you.”

albedo had always admired you in quiet adoration.

he can't provide a clear explanation why his gaze is naturally drawn to you, turquoise eyes sweeping by your countenance before he realizes it. but it started out simple, as everything does: a curiosity piqued, when he heard of a person tagging along the supposedly unapproachable girls in school.

gossip comes and goes every season, and albedo knew it will pass soon. it's only a matter of time before they cling to another topic to babble about. most likely something kaeya did again, because he chases after trouble like a dog with a bone.

rumors are nasty. they paint you in malicious light, a person seeking attention among the most eye-catching lot. you wished you were on the same league as them, they said. you were only after the benefits of acquainting with those girls, they said.

but you were special on your own.

the way you carried yourself with confidence, against the judgmental stares and muddled opinions. the way you hadn't cared about what other people said, because you knew best about the situation and you were different from what they made you out to be. the way you genuinely loved your friends, sincerely wishing them happiness and doing everything you can to put a smile on their faces.

you were dazzling.

your laughter rang like bells in his ears, your grin a delight to see. your voice was melodious as you prattled on about the latest film you watched, or as you hummed a song with headphones covering your ears. your colorful expressions were amusing, a reflection of the feelings in your heart.

as the professor drones out during lessons, albedo finds himself distracted by his daydreams. what if he stood beside you? what if he could partake in conversations, not only able to hear your voice but you'd also hear his? what if he was the one faced with your smile, the reason of your smile, the one who made you feel such joy?

what if you permitted him to go further? to brush hands with you, to intertwine your fingers in simple intimacy, to curl his arms around your waist in a loose embrace, to press a kiss on the corner of your lips-

his ears burned in humiliation. what on earth was he thinking?

but forget “seeking attention from others,” it didn't even seem like you were interested in dating.

you showed indifference towards the idea, avoiding mixers and drinking parties. you also turned down quite a few dates. not to mention albedo wasn't even friends with you. he wasn't even sure if you knew of his name.

then you showed up at the library, and for the first time, albedo was thankful for the privilege nobody bothered his table, so you could sit alone together.

you became friends after his (despairingly embarrassing) insistent attempts to acquaint himself with you.

and he files away the little details, storing the small things about you in the corner of his mind. what you like, what you dislike. what days were you free, what things you prefer over the other.

it's a happiness he relishes in, the comfort of your friendship. but his greedy little heart yearns for more, for what you cannot give.

he tries anyway.

he's running out of time. you're always surrounded by people, whether you realize it or not. but he considers himself a selfish person. he doesn't want you to be taken away.

he may lose you entirely if he does it wrong.

but you're already here, eyes gleaming, lips pressed in a nervous tight line. the red dusting your cheeks leaves some hope for him, so he musters up his courage and simplifies the storm of feelings that eats away his heart each day:

“i like you, [name].”

---

Love Pages

➜ Words: 18k

➜ Genres: 60% Angst, 40% Fluff, Yandere!AU, Inspired by Death Note

➜ Summary: You’ve always had feelings for Park Jimin, star soccer player and cute boy-next-door. But it’s been unrequited for years and you expect it to continue that way. Or at least until a certain notebook falls into your hands.

➜ Warning: toxic relationships, loosely implied smut, some victim blaming. This is not your typical love story.

Keep reading

---

“To me…”

---

(Taehyung and Y/n in the middle of a fight)

Y/n: just take your things and leave

Taehyung: fine

Taehyung: *picks up Y/n and leaves*

---

Of Gods and Stars

Brain went brr at work and while thinking about lovely Dainsleif (sir, please come back soon I miss you-) so Khaenri’an Reader. God!Darling is a Khaenri’an.

That’s it. Everything else in this story is pure improvisation from whatever dramatic story I can come up with through the power of memes (that’s really just how my brain functions at this point haha I’msofuckinghopeless).

@nicebonescomrade wanted something like this so I’ve tagged the creacher of skeletons that has some of my bones right now (not that I mind since I don’t make optimal uses for them).

Huge divergence in plot, I guess? Uhh… I apologize, but I’m dogshit at warnings as you might’ve witnessed. Still, hope you like this. Am going on a posting spree because I gotta make up the time span from last post.

Might also be super messy and short because it’s just brainrot I need to clear my head out of.

Keep reading

---

CULT AU! KAEYA/KHAENRI'AH

I realized i've barely written for Kaeya--this is purely informational, mostly worldbuilding and not so much as headcanons? But I hope it is enjoyed all the same. Edit: I'm looking this over after months and i'm tired, but i wanted to get this out and going.

LEGACY OF KHAENRI'AH

It might've been true for once, that a long lost nation flourished without a god, without a star to guide them, but how many can claim such?

Unheard of, even impossible in some eyes--there is little left but memories by now. Even those who witnessed the fall--archons who still live, archons long gone, they can only speak one name that might be resolute.

It is your name, after all.

KAEYA holds nothing but shadows at his back, they tie him to the other two remnants of an unreachable home, Albedo and Dainsleif, yet neither of those two are quite aware of your presence as you break through the fabric of their world. It is but a ringing to their ears, perhaps as they are indeed more attuned than most, but it is a song that remains sleeping within. At least until you decide to reach out.

Tearing apart both sky and convictions, it is only a cold, hard fact that confirms the doubt blossoming at the back of their throat.

You are their creator.

Unlike the archons and unlike the Traveler, Kaeya may not be of divine nature or a vessel specifically made for you, but he was one of the First.

The very first people you made.

It is true, Khaenri'ah was not made by a god, for it was never your purpose to begin with. You gave them life, but you did not dictate them. You did not ask for statues to be erected in your name, or for blood to be spilled so as to appease your "rage", no.

You simply--watched. Watched what you created take a life of its own. Was there anything more noble than that?

Even manifesting yourself when asked for your blessings, you showed yourself to men and women, elder and children, always present, but never quite in their reach.

Most of the "People" (for the word you said in your language would've been impossible to transcribe) believed you their creator, the absolute word and the highest of honors to behold. So, you'd understand their surprise when you begged them not to etch you in their records, right?

No effigies, no tales--some thought you were even turning your backs on them--did you not love the First of creatures you had made? It was hard to understand, bringing in many conflicts that would scar the land as you'd retreat into your celestial abode, horrified--Kaeya remembers well the sacred texts, a horrible draught that lashed out all across Teyvat.

With time, they'd come to understand. You wanted them to live lives of their own, without your hand to guide them. You wanted to see to the extents they'd reach without beliefs.

You wanted to see if there could be more like you.

Such a secret, kept among the long lines of royalty-- grew even longer as time, and medicine advanced, was passed down from generation from generation.

And it all crashed down with him.

┈     ┈     ┈     ⋞ 〈 ⏣ 〉 ⋟     ┈     ┈     ┈

Perhaps time's cruel nature has taken its toll, perhaps it is something else. Perhaps It is the faint echo that sings in the hollow of his heart, an emptiness that suddenly takes shape when he first lays eyes on you--no, not the vessel you've made. You.

Much like in creation, he might've not been the very First, but he is essential to you nonetheless. Being one of the first characters to acquire as you start the game, he soon comes to understand why the Traveler isn't willing to share your spark with him.

It comes in the shape of a small stone, a circle of opal encased in his chest. It is white and smooth, a pale iridescence that glimmers under the sunlight in his open shirt, yet no one seems to notice.

It is then that he realizes. They can't notice.

How can they, when you're so far away?

┈     ┈     ┈     ⋞ 〈 ⏣ 〉 ⋟     ┈     ┈     ┈

---