When A Youkai First Meets Their Master, A Rope Magically Pops Into Existence To Show That The Youkai

aaa scara + red tulips + hurt to bittersweet fluff?

crimson flowers bloom (just know i love you too)

tw/cw - mentions of blood, light angst.

a/n - lol i kinda died but uh here ya go hopefully he isn’t too ooc it’s kinda hard to do fluff with a man with homocidal urges

the first time you told the balladeer about your infatuation for his being, he had laughed in your face, and asked if it were a cruel joke.

the flowers quickly followed, having been stuck tight inside your throat while his laughter rung in your ears, and only released when you were alone in the dark confines of your room. they blanketed the comforter of your bed, red tulips blending with the blood from the body wrecking coughs. how cruel, you thought, for something so beautiful to be the reasoning behind so many lives taken.

the fleeting thought arose when you cradled them gently in your hands, staring quietly as you studied the result of the disease well known throughout the nation. you sputtered an equally soft laugh, vaguely recalling the warnings given to you throughout childhood, and the caution over fluttering hearts and a tender touch. all over this single flower. a life created through one’s own suffering, formed through those a servant to the emotion unfortunately befalling upon them.

and molded from the love you felt for a man who would never feel the same.

you made it your sole duty to act as if the flowers and love made from your body never surfaced in the first place. tight stretched smiles that would fool any. countless hours dedicated to the work you found to be the only escape. an excuse to stay trapped in your room as the garden grew, and to blame on when one asked about the decaying corpse you found yourself stuck in.

no questions were supposed to be asked. it was why you felt both fear, irritation, and pure heartache when the man behind the poison came to your door and called you out on the lies and illusions you had so comfortably hidden yourself within.

you could hear the way the wood protested when scaramouche slammed the door shut behind him, despite your protests for his presence in the first place. you would’ve continued such banter if it weren’t for the anger so visibly trembling his hands and the gray clouds storming his eyes, “you haven’t been at your best, i can tell.”

your throat felt dry at his words, and you forced yourself to clear such obstacles in order to reply, “im trying.”

“well your effort right now isn’t enough,” his tone was still harsh, not once lightening even as he took notice of your fallen expression. instead, he hesitated before taking a small step forward, “seriously, come on! what’s up with you?”

the echo of cruel laughter rung in your brain, causing you to pick yourself up from the desk you had been working at and maneuvering your body to leave the room, “it’s nothing, scaramouche. mind your own business-”

the man scowled, face twisted into irritation. it wouldn’t have bothered you so much if he hadn’t caged your upper arm within the harsh grip of his cold fingers, “it’s my business when it affects MY work too.”

you had never been fond of scaramouche. from the moment you first met him as new recruits competing with one another for the top spots, the man had earned himself the title of least likable in anyones lives, especially yours. it was why it frustrated you that those feelings had changed so abruptly, all because of the single moment you shared showcasing vulnerability. ironically enough it reminded you of that exact moment, but instead with cold skin numbing the pain of a deep cut from an expedition, and an expression so soft he was almost unrecognizable.

it frustrated you, how it had stuck with you for so long, and eventually nurtured the petals you had been so desperately trying to kill for the past couple weeks.

scaramouche froze as you dropped yourself to the ground, and even more so when your hacking fit revealed the product of his carelessness. he tried, desperately, to clear his throat and mutter out the first words of his reaction, “you were…serious about that?”

you let your eyes remain glued to the ground, burning holes due to frustration. that was all he had to say? there you were, dying, and the man had the audacity to waste his first words on the confession you had given weeks ago, “well, doesn’t really matter now so-“

“why me?” he dropped down beside you, purple hues also fixated on the abnormal amount of blood and flowers in your hands. if you hadn’t known better, you would say he appeared broken by the realization of the outcome, “what’s so lovable about me?”

you frowned, both perplexed and upset at his strange behavior, “scaramouche-“

“why are you dying for me!” his fingers once more gripped the sides of your arms, almost shaking you with the way they trembled. scaramouche, the balladeer, appeared almost desperate, searching for something amongst the blurs of red and frustration.

“i would do anything for you.” you mumbled quietly, slowly placing your own hands over where his lay. a reassuring touch for who, you didn’t know, but it remained there as his grip tightened and he pushed his body to rest over yours.

“you cant.”

“hm?” you hummed, afraid that your voice would betray and reveal just how much the feel of his forehead resting on your collarbone, affected the disease still plaguing your body.

for a brief moment he remained quiet, before suddenly pulling back, and this time his hands gripped the sides of your face as the tone of his voice grew several octaves, “you cant!”

the lines around your lips deepened, forcing yourself to drift your gaze to rest anywhere but his expression, “my fates already sealed, there’s nothing-“

“and what if i said i cared for you?” he quickly spoke, prompting you to meet his gaze for the final time that night. it…surprised you to say the least. but the most surprising thing of all was not the glare of purple, although halfhearted, nor the frown of his lips, but rather the deep hue of red burning his cheeks, “that you’re not just some underling. you aren’t annoying and you aren’t a burden.”

you opened and closed your mouth several times before his words clicked, and several more attempts before you could speak, “are you saying…?”

instead of replying straight away scaramouche once more leaned forward, the heat of his skin burning your own, “do i need to repeat myself?”

“say it. just once,” you croaked out, caging him within your arms and desperately clinging on as if he’d disappear, “and i won’t die.”

you felt it, the gentle way his lips moved against your skin, whispering something so quiet you could barely register it. but you heard it, and it was enough to fully clear the pressure in your throat, and wilt the flowers you had grown.

menu. pomegranate mousse cake.

genshin boys in a biker gang

synopsis: when you’re a nerdy college student invited to the biker gang’s fraternity party.

character/s: scaramouche, xiao, thoma, childe, kazuha, gorou, itto, ayato

note: inspired by my favorite UA party playlist by nimbus!! <3 may be a bit suggestive in some parts hehe

ITTO! + delinquent best friend! + feel this moment, sweater weather

your best friend who invites you over to the gang’s late and tumultuous fraternity party!

begins with a cliche greeting — when pebbles suddenly come catapulting at random intervals on your poor glass window during a school night, and you begrudgingly force yourself to stand up and greet the presence of the six-foot framed culprit beaming with mirth below.

encourages your procrastinating ass to furtively slip out your window and fall into his sturdy and open arms — giggling childishly as you shake your head and he looks down at you with that stupid smirk twisted across his lips.

makes sure to help you stand up properly, before taking your hand and scampering off towards the abandoned streets of the tranquil neighborhood. fortunately, the venue of the location wasn’t far off from your address, and soon you’re both sidling into the establishment’s back door while brimming with much excitement.

spending a night with itto isn’t as average as the majority expect it to be. everyone believes you’re the average best friends with much platonic affection for each other…however lately, there’s been a proliferation of an unspoken and irrefutably odd sexual tension thickening between you two.

like when his intrusive arm lazily slithers around the dips of your waist, rather than the usual public display of his bulky limb thrown across your smaller shoulders, as you both push and weave through the congested sea of skimpily clothed bodies bathed in a neon glow.

when his aggravatingly dominant smirk directed at you beneath the fluorescence of flamboyant lights, glows a little too brightly amidst the feverish haze of the darkness.

or when you attempt to sit down on one of the chairs next to the bar, and instead find yourself playfully hoisted by itto onto the marble counter — his large palms tightly pressed around the curves of your hips when he sets you down, childishly bumping his nose against yours in a somewhat teasing manner.

and try as you might, in desperately failing in your attempts to pry his iron grip off from digging against the sides of your waist, the lighthearted sound of his hushed snickers witnessing your futile endeavors still manages to send a stupid flush across your shadowed cheeks.

if you weren’t already visibly flustered enough by the ambiguous gestures, itto would most definitely add fuel to the fire with a nonchalant exchange of flirty remarks towards you, his wandering fingers absentmindedly twirling the soft locks of your hair that you had upsettingly given much effort to style for the night.

perhaps it was simply the air inside the vigorously confined atmosphere of the disco — evidently dense on your lungs as it reeks of sweat, alcohol and cigarettes — leaving you utterly grasping at straws for breath beneath the humidity and his blistering gaze. you can feel the blare of the music pulsing through your veins, but nothing as loud as the painfully blatant thumps of your traitorous and foolish heart.

“thanks for coming out with me tonight, little nerd.”

THOMA! + dependable fixer made hot bartender! + evacuate the dance floor, dinero

the cute bartender lingering around to take your order!

when itto begrudgingly leaves to resolve a pressing issue with some other gang members, he eventually decides to leave you in thoma’s reliable care while he’s away.

comes off as a super extroverted guy — he’s very friendly and welcoming with you, going as far to give you the interesting privilege of concocting a unique (most certainly non-alcoholic) drink with certain ingredients he thinks would suit your taste. and it turns out quite beautiful without a doubt, swirls of orange, pink and violent shades coalescing together within the crystalline glass — almost like the characteristically ethereal sunset captured within a frame.

is low-key flirty…however you don’t really notice it because you presume he’s simply being nice.

but it’s there alright — in the little proud smirks he sends you after succeeding to make you laugh with a witty joke, how his fingers linger a little longer over yours when he extends you the finished beverage, how his eyes seem to stare a tad too much at your seemingly distracted semblance as you quietly admire the aesthetic refreshment in your possession.

and oh, you think you’ve finally noticed it when you catch wandering viridescent irises sneaking discreet yet frequent glances, over at the surface of your lustered lips from the drink in hand.

it’s undeniably evident in his aura when sharing a conversation with you too, as he seems more lively and engrossed with your friendly exchange of various and random subjects, despite the discussion not actually building up to much at all.

so it’s an understatement to say that when another person repetitively beckons him over — with much aggression and impatience in the customer’s blatantly slurred words — that thoma was merely irritated by the man’s impolite and rude attitude.

rather, the trivial spark of anger that flickered once in a while as he quietly busied himself with the man’s order, only ignited even more when the drunken customer gradually began to harass you with perversely cheap and degrading comments from the other end of the counter.

and thus, thoma eventually resorts to walking over towards him with the chilled beverage in hand, casually offering it out to him. when the drunkard soon takes it, the blonde’s free hand swiftly swoops in to wrap around the wrist of the rude man, whispering something incomprehensible beneath his breath for only the man to hear — a seemingly polite smile twisting across his lips as he watched the man’s eyes slowly widen in fear.

needless to say, whatever transpired between them seemed to prove itself as more than effective, to suddenly leave the customer wobbling with a frantic scurry to somewhere farther away from the bar.

as thoma placidly returns to standing across you from the bar to entertain your thoughts, you ask with inquisitive interest as to how he got the man to abruptly scuttle away without much protests or a fight.

he merely shrugs with what you’ve distinguished to be his signature smile, leaning down gingerly to wipe a small stain of your refreshment off the corners of your dewy lips.

“oh that? it was nothing important. now, on to a more pressing issue — would it still be presumptuous of me to see if i could somehow get this pretty lady’s number by the end of the night?”

SCARAMOUCHE! + squad six’s irascible captain! + sway with me, party rock anthem

the belligerent boy you accidentally bump into while exiting the bathroom!

after politely excusing yourself from thoma — as soon as more orders suddenly started flooding in and you had already regrettably finished your drink — the two of you eventually agreed to part ways with exchanged numbers, as you hurriedly left to wash your face in the bathroom.

although as soon as you finish your business and turn the corner to leave, your shoulder coincidentally collides against another boy’s, eliciting a disgruntled response and deathly glare from the other person in the vacated and cramped hallway.

technically, both the stranger and you were partly at fault for not watching each other’s way through the narrow corridor…

still, he was quite persistent with his profanities of anger purely directed towards you — and it pissed you off that he couldn’t seem to find it in his pride to take half the blame either.

so there you both were — arguing within tapered confines for perhaps a solid ten minutes, literally encouraging everyone else to evade the bathroom and hold it in their bladders for only gods knew how long.

strangely, the longer you contended with each other, the more you noticed a lot of details about him. like how his indigo irises darkened with every provoking comment exchanged, how pale slender fingers exasperatedly ran through his dark hair as a sign of clear irritation, or how he infuriatingly chewed on his bottom lip to perhaps compose himself with what mere insignificant semblance he had left.

you presumed that by the unreadable look on his face, he was finally ready to apologize (like you had already did minutes ago) on his behalf of the blame.

however, you’ve probably failed to realize that in the midst of your heated dispute, the boy had already cornered you on one end of the corridor as you leaned against the wall, your hands captive underneath his wrists after practically combusting and waving them around the air for emphasis, thereby causing him to hold them down so you wouldn’t take up too much space flinging them around his line of vision.

you hear him mutter something incoherent beneath his breath, sounding similar to another string of characteristic vulgarities you had eventually grown to understand was just a natural instinct of his.

“archons woman, would it kill you to shut up already?”

“make me, you little dipshit.”

the bold comment is enough to leave the hostile boy slightly bewildered, gaze boring into yours with an eerily odd intensity. he becomes quiet in thought, and you think that this is it — he’s finally going to back down and you can all go on without much of a struggle any longer.

however to your surprise, he simply chuckles lowly and shakes his head with a sadistic grin…tilting his head to inch closer to yours with a cocky smirk contorting across his lips in a ghost of a whisper, that almost instantaneously leaves you flustered at the absurd and blatant implied notion of it.

“alright, trouble. let’s see how much it takes to break you.”

KAZUHA! + taciturn classmate turned badass soldier! + hey baby, balenciaga

the familiar classmate who saves you in your search for the lounge!

you recognized a tuft of white and red locks amidst the dimmed crowd, initially thinking nothing of it but a weird coincidence when you felt a tinge of familiarity within the conspicuous hues.

to say you struggled with traversing through the congested mob was much of an understatement…you basically kept getting pushed and pulled by the colliding bodies, along with the dizzying beat of the deafening rhythm ringing in your ears. you could barely see anything from the number of people vigorously jumping up and down, as your legs began to feel wobbly and considered the thought of giving in onto the floor.

fortunately for you, a stranger’s hand suddenly clasps yours within the heated dynamic of the club — almost instantly hauling you away from the crowd and to a significantly less populated space.

you raise a hand to your head unsteadily, taking ragged breaths as the world ever so slowly began to spin. a pair of arms catch your staggering frame, and you hear the faint whispers of a boy asking if you’re still feeling alright.

when you glance up at the stranger to express a brief thanks for saving you back there, your eyes furrow in evident confusion at the sight of familiar crimson irises. wasn’t this the student seated a row in front of you during literature period?

he seems to recognize you too — a frown etching across his fair features the longer he looks at you. kazuha was almost certain you were practically a goody-two-shoes, clear by the sense of diligence and responsibility you exhibited during class. yet, to find you carelessly stumbling around a club, let alone lost in a dangerous biker gang’s fraternity party…

unfortunately, this also meant his concealed identity was ultimately exposed — and all he does is let out an amused chuckle at the absurdity of it, shaking his head lightly as he helps you stand up properly, before wordlessly taking your hand to courteously guide you over to where the lounge was situated.

you had so many questions as to why — why the usually civil student was suddenly found donned in the same jacket itto wore to signify his connection with the gang, why the characteristically reserved boy was somehow found greeting strangers who passed by and talking with you a bit longer than he usually did in class, why his thumb kept rubbing oddly comforting circles on your palm as he casually walked over to a corner you haven’t noticed ever since you arrived here.

when you both approach a door, you watch as kazuha merely hums while fishing for something in the pocket of his jacket — never once letting go of your hand, even as he pulls out a key and twists it inside the knob. he pushes open the door with his shoulder, sending your astonished expression over with a reassuring and undeniably pretty smile.

apparently, the lounge was only exclusive to the actual members of the gang, and could only be accessed with a certain key — which your best friend had unfortunately forgotten to mention when attempting to enter it. kazuha gestures over to a seat by a vacant couch, saying you could take a quick rest and try to clear your head from the previous events that had recently transpired outside.

he turns around in preparation to leave, however your fingers bashfully clasp on his sleeve, accompanied with a hasty ‘thank you’ that you had almost forgotten to express to the nice boy a moment ago. you feel warm hands hover over yours, pressing a little object that felt similar to the sensation of a key into your own palm — and glance up to see a winsome smirk plastered on his lips.

“here, this is the key to the lounge. we’re even now, aren’t we?”

“e-even? how do i repay you back?”

“easy. just keep your pretty lips sealed about seeing me here.”

his smirk deepens at your flustered cheeks, your grasp on his sleeve loosening at the flirty remark. kazuha remains unfazed on the other hand — simply walking towards the exit with the lazy wave of his hand, to bid goodbye to you for the evening.

“have a nice night, l/n.”

CHILDE! + (my) best friend’s brother (is the one for me)! + like a g6, dancer in the dark

your best friend’s brother who catches you peacefully resting by the couch!

you’re oblivious to the ginger-haired man quietly approaching your table — as your eyes were absently trained on the glass of water settled in front of you, sparkling ice cubes leisurely melting within the lukewarm temperatures of the pellucid liquid.

it’s only after a few rapid taps from behind your shoulder, and a familiar grin peeking through your side-vision, do you then recognize your best friend’s older brother, sporting an eerily similar biker apparel to all the other boys you’ve encountered throughout the span of an entire evening.

sure, kazuha’s secret identity came off as an initial surprise to you…but childe? the lanky and overprotective boy who used to welcome you in his teasing embrace every time you’d come over their house? the very same one who had the habit of bickering around immaturely with his siblings, yet remained an unusually benevolent guy at the end the day? this was him?

and it’s not as if childe himself expected to find you in such a place either — however he doesn’t exactly discern your unanticipated presence as a terrible circumstance. so there he casually leans, over the couch with a chiding smirk at your pallid face, nonchalantly threatening you to keep it a nice little secret…or else he’d politely rat your rebellious ass out to your parents too.

tense moments aside — he would most likely slide next to you on the couch and simply behave the same way he usually does while sharing an average conversation with you, making little to zero effort of letting you adjust at the sudden fact that he was a member of a biker gang.

will definitely haul your lazy ass off the couch just to dance. he even snickers as you collide on his chest with rather wobbly legs across the dance floor — whispering rather incoherent mumbles in the lobe of your ear (that somehow fell along the words of you being careless), while his hands stealthily travel down to your hips with a cocky grin.

warm breath tickles your feverish skin, as you both slowly sway your bodies to the rhythm of the music. you’re almost certain your best friend would have murdered the both of you, if she had caught the seeming oddly close and intimate sight displayed on the disco.

is sort of a sadist as well — when he twirls you around and holds you close with your back against his chest, he likes to lean down to mutter teasing jokes in your ear that leave you irritated and strangely flustered…but nonetheless, smiling.

“we may as well have fun together while it lasts, darling. after all, we’ll have to end up forgetting about this when the night’s over.”

AYATO! + a run in with my courteous blind date! + we are who we are, you make me feel

meeting your blind date while deliberating if you should head home!

as you leave the lounge after handing kazuha’s key for childe to return on your behalf, its only when you realize that it’s already gone past midnight, despite your initial plans to head home early and finish a project presently due a few hours from now.

as you aimlessly wander around the less crowded dance floor in search of itto, you feel a hand abruptly clasp your wrist, gently tugging you backwards to a foreign scent. your head whips back in surprise at the gesture, only to be greeted by a civil smile contorted on familiar features.

it was impossible to mistaken him — after all, you had only gone out on a blind date together rather recently, around a week ago. and it seems he hadn’t forgotten you either, grinning warmly like he did the last time you had seen him. still, why was it always the most unexpected people who were secretly part of a gang?

will definitely spend a little over an hour talking with you in a corner, mostly things about catching up and asking how the other has been doing. ayato’s actually noticed your presence ever since you entered the club, but has missed countless of opportunities to quietly approach you since you were clearly busying yourself with…well, other guys.

a literal gentleman — tenderly nudges you closer to his side when he notices someone passing by behind you and you’re busy talking, will casually tuck stray strands of hair falling across your face with a polite smile (which ultimately interrupts your sentences and makes you blush — he says its for your convenience, but really, he thinks its just cute to see your cheeks red), actually asks for consent before doing anything he presumes you’re uncomfortable with!

actually becomes very satisfied with himself when he makes you smile or laugh, it feels like a hundred victories won for him within the simple twists of your lips…though he doesn’t really understand why you stubbornly refuse to take him seriously when he compliments that you look pretty tonight.

gets somewhat confused thirty minutes in, when he sees you don’t seem very unfazed by him. and perhaps ayato was too hyper aware with the electric sensation of your fingers lightly brushing against his — but you didn’t seem to elicit much of a reaction with his mere presence. because of course he wants you to feel shy when you’re next to him, why was he the only one being so reserved now?

when he hears that you’re leaving to head home, he feels sort of dejected. but it was reasonably better for you to depart, than to leave you around here with the rest of the unrestrained gang members. who knew what would happen the longer you stayed?

his mind will definitely nitpick on him for being a coward to not ask you out, but he doesn’t really want to force you into doing something you didn’t enjoy either. so there it remains in the depths of his thoughts, for the last few minutes until you bid him goodbye to leave.

kind of had a “fuck it” moment in his head when he sees you turn around — eventually plucks up the courage to take your hand with a little smile and a hushed question, before he then watches you withdraw for the evening.

“if you’re interested, would you still be willing to see me again in a movie theater rather than a nightclub?”

XIAO! + gang leader next door! + freak, feel so close

attractive yet private neighbor at the secluded corner of the bar!

you presumed he would be anything but, well, a gang leader. and yet, there the man was — seated in a discreet corner behind the counter with a glass in hand, vehement golden-amber eyes never leaving the faint silhouette of your figure coalescing amidst the sea of bodies.

you couldn’t genuinely tell if you either liked him or not. for instance, he wasn’t always much for talking…which was honestly comforting when the neighborhood would have everyone celebrate the holidays together — as you would simply sneak away with xiao and tag along with him to places like movie theaters or convenience stores, without forcing yourselves to communicate much.

albeit, the night he accidentally stumbled bloodied inside your house (which he had inadvertently confused with his) at the late hour of the night, rendered him undeniably indebted to you for not making much of a fuss about the conspicuous sight.

despite your generosity with meticulously bandaging his wounds, and remaining reticent towards the strange circumstances that had transpired within the confines of your property — xiao’s character was nonetheless austere, and hastily vacated the premises as soon as you had finished your handiwork, without even bearing to pause and say thank you.

well, at least you knew how he ended up thrashed that evening.

you hadn’t really planned on stopping by to share a conversation with him anyway — he’s probably recognized you by now, and perhaps it was only better if you left without making things more awkward and difficult for the both of you.

as you proceed to push your way through the suffocating crowd despite the occasional jostles, you could swear that you could already see a blinking red sign that signified the exit of the club. when you attempt to take a step closer, you accidentally bump into a stranger’s chest — muttering a hasty exchange of apologies before trying to move aside so you could eventually approach the door leading outside.

however, the man doesn’t seem to give you any space for it — and it’s only when you glance up at his face, is when you recognize the perverse and drunken man that had incessantly bothered you while you were still with thoma. except now, neither the blonde nor itto wasn’t here…none of the other faces you’ve met throughout the entirety of the night were. and chances were, with the clogged throng of bodies surrounding the both of you, it was almost impossible to even dare to find a sliver of an opening and ultimately slip away.

you can hear the man sloppily flirting with you in incomprehensible mumbles, his hands flailing as they try to grasp your frame while you attempt to shove them away. you can feel yourself growing all the more anxious when one of his hands tightly clutches your wrist, chills running up your spine as you hear him laugh in triumph while he pulls you closer to his body. you could see that you were a thin line of people away from the threshold of the disco — if there was only some way you could miraculously shove him aside and make the greatest effort to frantically burst in a run for it, maybe, just maybe…

“i thought i already warned you not to try anything funny, you fucking jerk.”

in the briefest of seconds, the burning grasp on your limb finally loosens — and you’re left staring agape at the pervert instantaneously thrown down at the floor, clasping his bruised cheek as blood begins to trickle down the corner of his cut lips. you feel another set of fingers protectively wrap around your arm, and you glance over to see the green-haired boy you were previously thinking of, looking down with an unreadable gaze at the man knocked to the ground.

due to the sudden commotion, the crowd had dispersed and cleared a path to witness the scene — onlookers left stunned at the bloodied man, guiltily averting their eyes away to prevent being dragged into the tense situation. the man coughs groggily, clutching his cheek with terror before slowly scampering away within the mass.

after a few moments of processing the situation, the crowd eventually resumes back with their dancing. you can only watch as xiao quietly wipes the blood splattered off the corner of his lips, rubbing it on his shirt in evident disgust.

xiao suddenly tugs you closer to his chest, his breath hot as it fanned across your flushed cheeks, as he lowly murmured something in a muffled whisper that astonishingly erupts into a pit of butterflies that flutter in your stomach, before he eventually (and rather reluctantly) lets you go for the night.

“don’t say i never gave you anything. now i’m not in your debt.”

GOROU! + steadfast bodyguard walking you home! + last friday night

the nice boy xiao ordered to end up taking you home!

since itto still hadn’t returned from his priorities, and xiao was needless to say, visibly pissed at the man’s utter carelessness for inviting you over to such a late party — he sends gorou to walk you home and ensure that you return safely instead.

very friendly to talk to! he’s kind enough to lend you his jacket as soon as you both step out of the club — to which you initially reject with a reassuring smile, but end up taking it anyway since the night breeze had gotten chillier.

asks if you had fun from the party, while you’re leisurely ambling through the empty sidewalks. he noticed you around the club a lot, and wondered if you enjoyed yourself with the belated festivities…which you genuinely did! to some extent.

gorou was initially worried on taking the task of walking you home, mainly because he was concerned that you wouldn’t feel very comfortable with being accompanied by a stranger…considering the events that had previously transpired back in the club.

he also notices that your shoulders began to hunch with eyes occasionally fluttering shut, soft yawns escaping your lips instead of verbal responses coming out — a sign that you had already grown weary after the eventful night.

instantly offers to carry you on his back! to which you’re somewhat unsure if you still had the capacity to decline on the request, considering your legs began to feel numb from walking around for too long…so you end up complying with his generous proposal instead.

makes tons of jokes and lighthearted conversations to keep you awake. you honestly appreciate his efforts for going out of his way to take care of you even when he didn’t have to, but all he does is smile with a little shrug of his shoulders, claiming it wasn’t much of a bother for him at all.

perhaps the calmest part of your evening, and it felt more than refreshing to just talk with someone, despite your drowsy remarks and the world beginning to blur.

when you arrive home, he carefully sets you down and helps you stand properly, watching as you insert the key into your door knob while repetitively thanking him with a tired smile for taking you home.

“not a problem, y/n. just glad you had fun tonight! get some rest soon.”

it’s only when you begrudgingly reach your bedroom and slide out of your shoes, that you realize gorou’s jacket is still hanging over your shoulders. how the hell did the both of you even forget about it?

you negligently totter over towards your ajar window, surveying around to see if the boy was still somehow waiting there…only to be greeted by the deserted sight of your streets, and the once darkened sky of the evening gradually begin to illuminate, amidst the unperturbed serenity of the slumbering neighborhood.

well…

there was always next time.

hey same ur zhongli post and it was sick!! could you write smthing where the reader has a rifthound plush irl?? like maybe how charcters would react to them favoring rifthounds or smthing??

Coming right up!

Since you didn't specify which characters, I went ahead and picked Childe and Albedo. If you'd like to see it with others, let me know, and I'll add them in a part 2. Hope you like it!

Childe

When you first pulled him away from a fight against the wolves of the rift, the Harbinger believed it was his safety you were concerned about. Not that he didn't believe he could take them on, of course, but it was endearing that you cared so much about him that you did not wish for him to be wounded.

That illusion would be broken when, moments later, you guided him to fight a group of various machines with no regard for his wellbeing whatsoever - if your team healer healed him, good, if your team didn't have a healer, well, Childe would simply have to hold on tight and hope the damage he dealt was greater than the damage inflicted upon him.

You guided him around Seirai Island, seemingly busy catching some odd blue mushrooms. The more time passed, the more Tartaglia understood just what had happened. The Rifthounds were the only enemy you hesitated to destroy, avoiding a fight until absolutely necessary, and sometimes just having him stand at a distance just so you could observe them in their natural state.

As menacing as the beasts looked, he supposed that to a being such as you, they'd essentially be like puppies. That would certainly explain your hesitance to fight. In a way, he guessed it was no different to Teucer's admiration of mister Cyclops. He didn't doubt your knowledge of what Rifthounds were capable of, of course - part of him even believed that their fighting prowess had also managed to impress you (even if that part was only there so he, too, could feel loved by association). Still, you had most definitely categorized the beasts as something you wished to befriend.

The moment he found himself back in Liyue, the warmth of your presence gone, Childe knew what he had to do. Pulling a few strings here and there, using up some Northland funds that would fly under the radar (especially after the whole Funeral Fiasco), he got to commissioning the best craftsmen he could find. Soon enough, upon opening your in-game mailbox, you would find an incredibly accurate plush replica of one of the hounds, with a message from Liyue's resident Fatui menace.

He could feel your surprise radiating from (through?) the Traveler, as you wondered what sort of random event you'd started, but, hey, not like you were complaining. A rifthound bonus was always a good bonus to receive.

A smug grin was present on the Harbinger's face the next time he visited your teapot. Proudly sitting on a nightstand beside one of the beds was the plushie he'd sent you, and Ajax could not resist ruffling the toy's fluffy mane... Before quickly fixing the mess once he remembered that he should definitely not be messing with your belongings. Either way, he was quite thankful for the plush, because after receiving it you'd immediately granted him an unbelievable increase of strenght- no doubt a reward for a job well done. Knowing that such a small gift had given him your favor, even if just for a while, had Childe absolutely over the moon. Had he a little less self restraint and you'd find your mailbox filled with all sorts of Rifthound themed souvenirs. He had the funds and the time to provide them, after all...

Albedo

When the alchemist known as Gold had created the Rifthounds, they'd been nothing but a footnote - a residual sketch that had not meant to be, and that by all laws of nature, should've vanished long ago. Since he'd caught word of their resurfacing, Albedo had asked himself why it was that they, like weeds in a garden, persevered with such ease and intensity.

The answer, it seemed, was you, like for many other mysterious things in the world of Teyvat. For some reason, you'd decided the wolves of the rift were your favorites, and you didn't seem likely to change your mind. He'd found about your unexpected preference upon coming across an unusual plush sitting on your bedside table in the Teapot you'd designed. Someone had apparently gifted you a toy rifthound, and you'd certainly cherished it.

It baffled him for the first few days, that's certain, but had given him a new project. While regular Rifthounds were prone to bouts of aggression, and the alchemist feared for the safety of your vessels (or, heavens forbid, your own, should you descend upon Teyvat in a more solid form) in case you decided to try and tame one, they were also a creation of his master. This to say, Albedo was fairly certain that, by finding the notes in which Rhinedottir had doodled the hounds, he would be able to replicate their appearance, while modifying them just enough to be a little more docile.

It'd be a lengthy process, he was certain, but perhaps by enlisting the Traveler's help, he'd be able to track down his master's old sketches, and, after rigorous experimentation, he was certain to have the best offering you'd ever received: your very own Rifthound companion.

Frankly, he shouldn't have been surprised when he noticed your aura around the Traveler when the blonde finally arrived at his camp. It seemed that they liked to wait for you before taking on any request deemed important enough.

Albedo didn't need to say out loud that he felt warmer at the thought of you considering aiding him something important.

________

As for you, you'd gotten an unexpected quest to visit Albedo's camp in Dragonspine. Confused, you checked the event page - had you missed something?

Oddly enough, there seemed to be nothing there other than the events you were already aware of, but, hey, a character quest was a character quest, so, you rearranged your team to better suit Dragonspine and teleported right next to his camp.

Sure enough, the alchemist was there, and if that alone hadn't driven home the point that this was no ordinary quest, what he said afterwards certainly did. Recovering his master's lost notes... That seemed like an important bit of the lore - far too important to be glossed over.

You refreshed the event page and your eyes widened, a grin making its way into your features as the familiar shape of a rifthound made its appearance.

Rifthound lore? On your event page? More likely than you'd think, apparently. You quickly put aside whatever plans you had for the game that day and got your team on the case, following Albedo in his quest to retrace his master's footsteps and find how the beasts had come into being.

Your joy was palpable when, by the end of the quest, once you'd delved into a domain covered in cobwebs and dust and failed experiments to piece together fragments of Gold's writings, you found Albedo enlisting the Traveler's help to recreate one of the wolves.

Maybe you could get it as a quest reward and keep your own rifthound pet! Hopefully that was the direction in which this was headed...

Through an incredibly detailed tree of dialogue from the Traveler (you weren't sure you'd ever seen an event with this many options before, but hey, it's not like you were complaining), and after a few failed attempts, you saw your hound taking shape on Albedo's sketchbook.

"It seems we've succeeded this time." The alchemist mused. The drawing did look clearer this time, and you crossed your fingers hoping it would work.

You held your breath at the cutscene that came after, please, please let this one work... The previour three attempts had failed, the first falling apart during the stabilisation process, the second and third having turned aggressive the moment they jumped out. You didn't think you had it in you to defeat another of your creations - not only because they were adorable and made by you, but because these ones sure knew how to leave your team needing some tea-break pancakes. If the fourth one followed the pattern of getting even stronger, then...

It solidified before you, the pieces snapping together with a flash of golden light. You watched attentively as the creature made no movements to attack. The Traveler closed their eyes and reached out as Paimon looked on, shaking nervously.

And the wolf's snout met the blonde's hand, the notification of an achievement popping up as the tense music from before turned into a lighter tune. The hound sniffed the Traveler and Paimon, before licking both of their faces and running around in the characteristic floating manner of the wolves of the rift.

The rewards of the quest popped up on your screen, but, at the moment, you couldn't care less. What mattered was that you had your very own Rifthound following you around, seelie-style, and that you would take him all around Teyvat. Perhaps you'd even be able to place him in your teapot... If so, he definitely deserved his own room.

________

Albedo watched as the Traveler disappeared, jumping instead of walking away, trailed by a slightly jealous Paimon and an equally jumpy Rifthound. To anyone not familiar with the mannerisms of vessels, the scene would've seemed rather odd, but, to the alchemist, it merely looked like a mark of his success.

He'd been nervous when the first hounds failed - seen your excitement at creating them only to have it be crushed by the idea of being forced to destroy them - but whether through your sheer will or his dedication to not let you down a fourth time, the wolf that now followed you around gained life.

Not only that, but he'd also managed to gather a lot of his master's lost notes... You'd assembled even those that had little to do with the hounds, handing him an almlst complete journal. He glanced at the spot where it rested, neatly, unassumingly.

Once again, he'd have you to thank for a huge leap in his research progress.

I have this thought of your "don't follow me gyeong-su x reader" fic where while gyeong-su was feasting on the reader, they managed to tied both their hands together with gyeong-su's school tie. 2 endings (?ig)

Reader turned into a zombie so now reader and gyeong-su are just walking on the school field close to each other since their hands are tied.

Or

Reader fainted while gyeong-su was feasting on them and they woke up as a half-bie (and was probably dragged on the ground by gyeong-su while they were asleep and ended up somewhere else). Reader notices gyeong-su with them and just cried since he's gone while they're still there. So reader strolls around and in the school, dragging gyeong-su with them with a blank stare. Whenever gyeong-su tries to run towards somewhere else, (probs because of a loud noise or sumn) reader just pulls him back saying something like "no gyeong-su, stay, don't leave me, don't go :((" eventho he wouldn't understand or listen. Basically reader not being able to separate themselves from gyeong-su since they love him sm </3

Idk if this is considered a request or not. I only told you cuz I got the idea from ur fic wakajslshdgsvs so ykk

— keep following me

gyeong-su x gn!reader | 1.1k words — pt. 1

genre: established relationship, horror, angst

warnings: swearing, blood, suicidal ideation, death, gyeongsu is literally a zombie so… Yeah. aouad stuff basically… this isn’t rly well written sorry writer’s block is kinda hitting i think

synopsis: you wished you’d never survived it.

author’s note: when i saw this in my asks i squealed and almost teared up because the idea was so good. thank you for technically requesting and i hope you like it!!!

Sigh.

Maybe you should’ve started counting the days since you left the AV room with Gyeongsu. Maybe you should’ve done that, but by the time you’d come to after getting bitten, you were too confused by the entire situation you were in to really think about counting days.

So it had been days. You knew that, at least, from the setting and rising of the sun in the sky. You were walking slowly through the outside of the school, the zombies all around you ignoring your existence entirely. You wished the one trailing behind you had gotten the chance to survive like you did.

Strangely enough, Gyeongsu’s bite did not affect you the way it should’ve. You were still human, as far as you could tell. You’d checked Gyeongsu’s pulse and heartbeat, which were completely gone, while yours was still very much there. You were alive, you were a human, and yet a zombie had bitten your shoulder. You could see the mark. The blood. Yet you barely felt anything like the zombies seemed to.

There were a few times you felt like your vision was blurred and reddish, and you’d stop in your tracks with the deep desire to bite into someone’s flesh. That happened. But that was all there was. Sure, that was more than enough— And you shouldn’t be complaining about your situation. After all, you’d survived, and now zombies didn’t even pay attention to you. That was like a golden card of sorts in the world you lived in.

But still.

“Gyeongsu, stop it.” you mumbled tiredly, tugging your arm forward. He groaned incoherently and you sighed, only continuing to walk. During the commotion of him biting you, you’d wrapped your uniform’s tie around both your wrists. Before you’d fully turned, you had enough time and will to do that. You’d thought that at least, whatever happened after that, you two would still be together.

Now you were dragging him around campus, trying to keep him from attacking everything he heard that was a bit too loud. You were exhausted. You wanted to die. When you awoke in that random place in the school’s courtyard after being dragged away by Gyeongsu, you thought you were dead. But then you realized that wasn’t the case. But that it was for Gyeongsu. You couldn’t help the tears that flowed out at the realization, nor could you help the broken laugh that slipped past your lips at the irony of it all. You’d left thinking you would die together, and for some reason, you’d fucking survived. You were tired.

You didn’t even know what to do.

There was a loud, screaming noise in an upstairs corridor, and you heard it through the opened windows. It sounded too much like Cheongsan. Your eyes widened in fear of what situation he might be in but before you could even think about it, Gyeongsu started running towards the noise. You yelled.

“Gyeongsu, wait! No! Fuck, stop running you idiot!” you yelled, pulling him back with all of your strength. He finally stopped and for a moment, he looked at you. Not through you, not at something behind you, but at you. It was for a second, probably, but it looked just like the look he’d given you when you stood in front of that door when he wanted to leave. Your shoulders deflated and you sighed out what could’ve been a sob. “Gyeongsu.”

“Stop running around, you idiot!” you laughed. Gyeongsu stopped and looked at you with a grin.

“You should start running around. We’re playing laser-tag, come on!” he exclaimed, before running away again.

But it was just for a moment. He was still a zombie. You still didn’t have anything to do. You were still not human, and still not a zombie. You were stuck with Gyeongsu, and still had no intention to leave him. You could’ve, after all, could’ve went back to the group to at least tell them. But you didn’t wanna leave Gyeongsu at all.

But everything was too much. So you screamed. To the top of your lungs, you screamed like you needed to to live. Because you needed to to let out the overload of emotions you’d been feeling. “Fuck!” you finally cried out, “Fuck! Fuck off!”

“[name]!”

You looked up, squinting. Then your eyes widened. “Cheongsan?”

“Are you okay?!” he yelled, “I’m in the music room, can you come?” and then he seemed to take notice of your wrist, tied to Gyeongsu’s. “[name].”

“I can’t.”

“[name], listen. You’re not a zombie, look at yourself. Come with me, we’ll manage something.” he said, and in the way he spoke you could hear how upset he was at the idea of letting go of Gyeongsu. “Come on.”

You looked down and at the tie that kept yours and Gyeongsu’s wrists tied together. You exhaled. Your skin was starting to hurt from how many times the boy had tried to run, pulling you along by the arm. And without really thinking, you untied it in a swift motion, but not without grabbing Gyeongsu’s wrist before he could run off again.

“Please.” Cheongsan insisted.

You rubbed your thumb over his wrist and then sighed. You tugged on his arm. “Come on, Gyeongsu… Say goodbye to Cheongsan.”

…

“Say goodbye to me, at least.”

…

“Please.”

Of course he wouldn’t answer.

“Then.”

And then you chuckled, shaking your head. You took a deep breath and looked at him. “Goodbye, Gyeongsu. I’m sorry.”

You slowly let go.

“I love you.”

And somehow, you left. Maybe Cheongsan caught you at the right time. Maybe he found you right when you were thinking about what to do and extended a hand towards you, giving you an option to come back to your friends. Maybe if it had been any other day, you would’ve ignored Cheongsan and left with Gyeongsu. But he caught you at the right time.

When you arrived in the music room, Cheongsan closed the door shut and barricaded it, before engulfing you into one of the tightest hugs he’d ever given you. “Why did you leave, the other day? We were fucking terrified.”

“I’m sorry.”

He sniffled and pulled away, lightly slapping your arm. “I know your aren’t. Stop lying.” he scoffed, walking away. You laughed and headed to one of the opened window, sitting on its edge. Before Cheongsan could ask what you were doing, you explained everything that happened. Then he explained everything that happened on his end, and why he was alone, currently. You told him if you somehow turned at some point, he’d just have to push you off the edge. He agreed, albeit a bit reluctantly, and stayed close to you.

You didn’t know the whole time, the days and nights you spent there, that Gyeongsu was standing still in the courtyard, looking up at the room.

Keep following me, your words echoed. Gyeongsu knew they meant something, from how many times you’d said them. But they weren’t enough for him to somehow turn back into a human. They were just enough for him to wait for you down the window, until your group eventually left for another safer place to go to.

sub rosa | jjk

👻 part of the ghouls just wanna have fun collab 👻

➛pairing/member: jungkook x reader (e x t r e m e l y loose, questionable/unhealthy); slight yoongi/tae x reader ➛genre: the thing ! au, alien au (sort of), horror, thriller, angst ➛word count: 18.6k ➛rating: nsfw (gore) ➛warnings: major character death, themes of horror, gore, graphic descriptions of blood and gore, major character death— please do not read if any of these things upset you! ➛notes: happy halloween!!! I hope you enjoy my contribution to the collab,, loosely inspired by The Thing (1982)!! Please let me know what you think! Also, Afraid by No Wyld is a good mood-setter when things start to shift!

A long-awaited camping trip with your friends takes a turn you couldn’t have ever expected, and you find yourself wishing you’d never left your house in the first place. What are you to do when you let a wolf so unknowingly into your herd of sheep?

— posted; 30.10.2018

— masterlist | collab masterlist | ao3

“y/n, stop moving! You’re going to make the tent fall over!”

You rolled your eyes at the dramatic way Taehyung had called that out, hands remaining in the steady grip on the tent they’d maintained the whole time you’d been helping him.

“You’re the one moving the tent, idiot,” you snorted, grinning when he sent you an affronted look. “Also I know we’re a good few miles from the town at the bottom of this mountain but that doesn’t mean you can be so loud, jesus.”

Taehyung beamed at you, nimble fingers making quick work of straightening the pole he had to slip inside the tent to keep it upright. “On the contrary,” he said, chocolate hair sticking to his forehead slightly from the light sweat he’d managed to work up while setting up tents. “I pitched this whole idea just so I could have somewhere to be as loud as I want for a week.”

His words made you laugh, since that very much sounded like something he’d actually do. In the apartment building you’d both managed to nab a unit in, you with another girl who attended your university and him with Yoongi, he wasn’t allowed to be very loud at all— and even then he struggled to keep quiet, if the numerous noise complaints he’d received were anything to go by. You wondered if there was anyone on his floor or the one above and below that hadn’t complained about his yelling when he played online games with his friends.

Keep reading

There’s no other way to describe it other than “fate”. Maybe it’s how the universe balances itself, by binding such impossible creatures to mortal masters to keep them under control. 

Either way, it has always been for the best. Don’t underestimate the world’s matchmaking services!

(under the cut: a long, long scenario of meeting your familiars + some world-building!)

Keep reading

WAITTTT WHAT WOULD HAPOEN IF THE IMPOSTER IN THE VILLUAN AU! GOT EXPOSED BECAUSE PEOPLE FOUND REAL GOD!DARLING AND PRICKED BOTH OF THEIR FINGERS AND THEN THEY SAW WHO WAS REAL AND WHO WAS NOT

[Btw I love your writing]

❝Fooled❞

I'm glad you're enjoying my works! ^^ also really for the late reply I needed to use my brain for this aaaand I had some health issues (+ writers block) in the process of working on this so I couldn't focus so really sorry for that lol. Also made a scenario under the cut.

✎...Includes: Zhongli, Ei, Venti, Thoma and other characters that are only mentioned.

❬Information: mentions of getting cut, very little bleeding, uh beheading? Slight cult and yandere themes,❭

Intro! Honestly it be a miracle if that happened? Because considering how unhinged some characters are squints eyes at Childe—they'd probably kill you on spot if they ever lay their eyes on you. Their head isn't screwed properly for that kind of process. They see the impostor, they kill the impostor. Easy as that! But— if something like that does happen— let's just say the impostor is reaaaaallyyy screwed.

Also about the pricking your fingers kinda thing—I'd like to propose another idea where instead of needle pricking ( I'm assuming that's what u meant) The reader instead gets a cut by a sharp object — a sword, or a polearm perhaps? — that was pointed at them when they got captured by the Archons and the others.

The characters who helped you too get captured— (Kaeya, Dainsleif, the twins, Albedo, Itto, Xiao and Kazuha and Thoma). Pinned against the ground by the Anemo archon's strong winds— any attempts at escaping were futile— no matter how strong they were—they can't defeat an angered God.

More under the cut!

Inside Tenshukaku, just outside the shogun's residence and in front of the statue is you. Surrounded by weapons of all sorts and people of all kinds. Unable to do anything as you kneel head held down low.

The uncomfortable feeling of being watched by hundreds of people makes you shift, the tight ropes around your wrists and ankles doesn't help either.

There were hundreds if not thousands of people watching you—coming from different nations all gathering in one place just to witness the death of the person who dared to impersonate their God. And speaking of which.

You can see them. Standing proudly next to the electro Archon.

From the shape of their face to the color of their eyes. They looked exactly, exactly like you. The resemblance between the both of you was uncanny. The only difference was that smile, that disgusting smile they're wearing. It was as if they were taunting you.

And you hated it. And you hated the fact that despite having the literal world's favor- you still couldn't do anything. Captured like an animal waiting to be slaughtered. It was absolutely pathetic. Were you really a god?

Maybe you are, maybe you aren't. Who knows.

You were tired. So tired of having to participate in this game of catch. Maybe you should just let them win already— it's getting tiresome. And with your situation, it's seems that they've already won.

You know you should fight back— You've come so far! You have armies of monsters ready to die for you. You could get revenge. You could make them feel the pain you felt. But alas, it sounds too much of a chore to do such thing. After all what happened—you just want to rest and maybe death is the only way you can do that.

Yes, you still want to live but with this situation in hand... How can you do that?

"Any last words?" You hear an almost too familiar voice say. It was non other than Zhongli of course. He was his God's most devoted devotee after all. Ironic how he had to get rid of you, in your honor.

"Did you not hear me?" He asks but you say nothing only looking at him before shifting your gaze to shoot your friends a smile. You refuse to waste your voice talking to lowlifes someone like him.

"I guess not, very well then. Prepare for a wordless death."

Just as he raises his pole arm (funny how it was the same pole arm you remember grinding for) ready to strike you down, a loud shout of someone was heard taking everyone's attention— yours included.

It came from one of your friends.

And in a blind panic thinking that they have been hurt you quickly turn your head, forgetting about the weapons that were surrounding you. The sudden action of course caused a few weapons to graze both your cheek and neck, cutting them in the process. The cuts weren't deep but they were still enough to draw out blood.

You didn't even notice it, clearly more concerned about your friends well being— but they surely did. Well, how could they not? That shining golden liquid was something worth capturing everyone's attention. It was something that only one person possessed. Their God. But that doesn't make sense? How could someone like you—a fake possess such attribute that not even Archons have?

Everyone had the same thought. Well.. Not a thought. But a question, one they were scared to be answered.

Were you truly a fake?

Ah.... At this point should they even question it? That blood is more than enough to prove who you truly were. You were their God! You were their precious deity—and the person they were worshipping was actually a fake.

Disgusting. How disgusting.

To think they had placed an impostor on a pedestal—worshipping them day and night while they harmed, starved and goodness almost killed their God?

They were fooled. And it made them mad. Really, really mad.

"Fools. Untie them!" You could hear Zhongli's voice shout, right after, you could feel the knots around your wrists and ankles loosen before disappearing completely.

Well, looks like you're gonna live after all.

You stood up, your lower half was too sore making it hard to keep balance. Just as you were about to stumble backwards you felt a pair of well built arms wrap their arms around you. It was Thoma.

"Are you alright, your grace?" He asks, eyes scanning frantically around your figure. You could also make out the others surrounding you as well. Looks like the Anemo Archon has finally freed them. You smile. Good thing they weren't harmed.

"I'm fine"

Shifting your gaze from them, your eyes land on the Geo Archon. Despite being in an inappropriate situation to feel it, you were a bit embarrassed. Was he staring at you the whole time? You inhale.

"What's this? Finally came to your senses Morax?" You taunt, voice loud, eyes glaring at the former Archon. Embarrassment disappearing all together.

He says nothing, only kneeling, his head held down low. It was a funny scene. Was this really the proud man earlier who asked for your last words?

The rest followed his actions, all kneeling, well except Ei, who marched in front dragging the now disheveled fake. Hands gripping the back of their shirt, harshly throwing them in front of you before kneeling alongside Zhongli. You also noticed Venti had placed himself right beside the Geo Archon, of course he too was kneeling.

You sigh, looking at the trembling fake, you would've felt pity for them. But considering all that had happened before hand, you didn't. You two were both placed in this world taking two different roles. If they had helped you, you would've helped them too.

With a heavy sigh, you look back at the people.

"What are you doing? You said you didn't want anyone copying me didn't you?" The sudden question made them slightly flinch, it was something they didn't expect but it didn't take long for them to nod.

"Then, why are you still letting this......thing live hm?" You ask, feigning disgust, your eyes trailing back at the half dead now kneeling fake.

With your words the three Archons stood up summoning their weapons and in an instant the impostor's head was no longer there.

Their now headless body slumped and fell to the ground with a loud thud.

Blood. Red blood was everywhere.

The sickening shade of red was far from the gold you had bled before.

It was truly an ugly sight. It made you feel guilty and you hated it.

You know you shouldn't be feeling like that. You weren't even the one who did it! They did. It was your so called worshippers who did it.

But why does it feel like it was you? Why does it feel like you were no different from them? From the people who had hurt you?

It was such a bothersome feeling. But it was too late for regrets. As masters of such heartless creatures, you need to be heartless too.

I'm sorry if this isn't what you had in mind? Like I can do a new version of it if you'd like? It'll take more time tho— also not really sure how this turned out? The ending might be a little rushed?

Also a little fact. The 'shout of someone' was actually supposed to be 'growl of something' since I wanted to add a part where rifthounds would come to the Reader's rescue but got cut out. Also how to title stuff.

۪۫❁ཻུ۪۪┊Navigation! | Masterlist!

Table Four

pairing: taehyung x reader

genre: college au, strangers to lovers, angsty fluff

summary: when he sees you at a campus café on a random tuesday, he knows he has to know you. but you’ve sworn off love after a brutal breakup and want nothing more than to focus on yourself. what starts with a croissant and a crooked smile slowly turns into study sessions, spontaneous adventures, and a love story neither of you saw coming.

warnings: college setting, soft fluff ☺️💕, mutual pining, slow burn, a tiny sprinkle of angst, mentions of academic stress, an emotionally devastating finals week, and EXCESSIVE flirting by one very persistent taehyung.

a message from our sponsors 💁🏽‍♀️: yes, the cover picture is huge af & in your face because…i mean he’s MY MAN, why wouldn’t i want to look at him all big and up close? 🤨💟

word count: 7,478

Taehyung wasn’t even supposed to be there.

He had an econ lecture in ten minutes on the other side of campus, a half finished paper on his laptop, and a group chat that was slowly imploding over whose turn it was to make the slideshow.

But all of that faded into static the moment he got a craving for a croissant. Not just any croissant—one from Bean There, the cozy little café tucked between the music hall and the campus bookstore. The one with honey butter, flaky layers, and, according to his friend Jimin, the best ratio of pastry-to-price-to-aesthetic.

He slipped through the front door, brushing damp curls from his forehead as the warm air hit him. It smelled like cinnamon and espresso, and he let the scent wrap around him as he approached the counter.

That’s when he saw you.

Table Four.

You were hunched over a psych textbook the size of a baby elephant, one earbud in, matcha latte sweating quietly beside your planner. A purple pen danced between your fingers. The other hand tugged at the sleeve of your hoodie every few seconds like your body needed something to do while your brain focused on neurotransmitters or Freud or whatever madness you were dealing with.

You didn’t notice him. Not at first. But Taehyung noticed you.

He felt it in his chest—the kind of jolt that said wait. You had a look about you—sharp but tired, soft in a way that people probably didn’t give you enough credit for. Like someone who carried their own weight and still offered to help others with theirs.

He stared a second too long, then caught himself and turned toward the counter.

“Can I get two croissants?” he asked, and then, almost without thinking, “And… those mini wildflower bouquets. That one with the yellow ribbon.”

The barista looked amused but didn’t question it.

Maybe they were used to college boys doing dumb things for pretty girls. Taehyung took his haul—two pastries and the little bouquet that looked slightly wilted but still sweet—and made his way over to your table like a man with a mission.

He cleared his throat gently.

You looked up slowly, pulling out your earbud, blinking like you were trying to place him in a memory you didn’t have.

“I’m Taehyung. Taehyung Kim,” he said, flashing his best smile.

You blinked again. “Okay?”

“These are for you.”

You looked down. At the croissant. The flowers. Back up. “Why?”

“I don’t know yet,” he said honestly, shifting his weight. “But I think if I give them to you, you might tell me your name.”

You stared at him like he was an essay prompt you weren’t prepared for.

Across the room, two girls at a corner table were watching and whispering, clearly invested. One of them mouthed, shoot your shot, and made a tiny fist pump.

He stayed where he was, not pressing. Just offering. The croissant was still warm. The flowers bent a little in the draft from the door, petals fluttering.

“You’re serious,” you said.

“Deadly.”

You huffed a laugh. “You’re bold.”

“I’m Taehyung,” he repeated with a wink.

You looked him up and down like you were trying to decide if this was real life or a fever dream brought on by lack of sleep and too much caffeine. “No,” you said finally, returning your focus to your textbook. “But… thanks for the snack.”

It wasn’t a yes. It wasn’t a full no either. It was a door left open just a crack.

Taehyung picked up the untouched croissant, unwrapped it, and placed it gently on top of your notes.

“For your brain,” he said with a grin.

And then he walked away.

Out the door. Back into the cold.

And for the rest of the day, you occupied way more space in his mind than his paper, his class, or his very irritated group chat.

^^^^^^^^

Taehyung burst into their shared suite like a man possessed.

Jimin was upside down on the couch, legs draped over the back cushions and phone resting on his chest. Hoseok was perched cross legged at the breakfast bar, scrolling through notes while stress eating fruit loops. Seokjin was in the tiny kitchenette, slicing fruit like he was auditioning for a cooking show.

All three looked up as Taehyung slammed the door, breathless.

“I met someone,” he announced dramatically.

Jimin rolled his eyes. “You met someone last week. And the week before that. And the week before—”

“No, no. This is different.” Taehyung threw his bag on the floor and spun like a theater major mid monologue. “I didn’t even know her name and I bought her flowers.”

Hoseok dropped his chopsticks. “You bought someone flowers?”

Seokjin squinted. “Is this an emergency?”

“Yes,” Taehyung said, dead serious. “I’m in love.”

Jimin groaned. “You say that every time someone breathes near you with good eyebrows.”

Taehyung pointed at him. “She had a psych book the size of a small country and a matcha latte. She said no to me. With full eye contact. No. Like I was a door to door salesman trying to pitch essential oils.”

Hoseok choked on a fruit loop. “Damn.”

“And she took the croissant,” Taehyung continued. “But not the flowers. She just left them on the table like a message. Like—‘thanks, peasant, but I am not to be wooed today.’”

Seokjin looked mildly concerned. “Did she hurt you?”

“No, but she could. And I would thank her for it.”

Jimin sat up, rubbing his face. “You don’t even know her name?”

“Not yet. But I will. Table Four, Bean There café. Every day if I have to.”

“God, he’s spiraling,” Hoseok muttered, passing Seokjin his bowl.

“I’m fine,” Taehyung said. “I’m just… invested. Emotionally. Spiritually. Academically.”

“She’s a psych major, huh?” Seokjin asked, sipping from his water bottle. “Explains why she’s not falling for your chaos.”

“I think she’s been through something,” Taehyung murmured, more serious now. “She had that look. You know… like she’s trying really hard not to believe in good things anymore.”

The room went quiet for a second.

Then Jimin said, “You’re so whipped already. I haven’t even seen her and I want her to give you a chance.”

Taehyung grinned. “Same.”

^^^^^^^^

Taehyung had a reputation for forgetting important things—his dorm key, due dates, what time class started—but he remembered you.

The curve of your lips when you told him “no” like it was a complete sentence. The slight twitch of amusement in your brow when he insisted he was serious. The way you stared back like you were used to brushing people off, like you were tired of being looked at like a puzzle someone could solve with a smile.

You didn’t know it, but you haunted him.

So, he went back to Bean There. Every single day.

Not in a weird way. Okay, maybe in a slightly weird way. But he sat at a different table each time, ordered something new, and kept one eye on Table Four like a man casually waiting on fate to show up with her purple pen and unbothered energy.

Day two: no sign of you.

Day three: a glimpse. You walked in, spotted him already sitting at your usual spot with a croissant and a hopeful smile—and turned right around and left.

He blinked. Sighed. Took a bite of the croissant and muttered, “Bold of you to resist destiny.”

But day four?

You sat down across from him.

“I’ve decided I’m not going to let you win,” you said plainly.

Taehyung blinked, startled. “I’m sorry—what?”

“You’re obviously playing the long game. Showing up here every day, waiting around like you’re in a romcom montage. It’s textbook persistence. I won’t be manipulated.”

Taehyung pressed his lips together, shoulders shaking. “Is… is this your way of saying you missed me?”

“Not even a little.”

“Then why are you here?”

You looked at him then. Really looked. “Because I’m tired. And you’re… persistent. And I have a lot of reading to do and this place has the best quality drinks my money can buy.”

He leaned back in his chair, beaming. “I’ll take it.”

You rolled your eyes but stayed put.

You didn’t tell him your name. Not yet. But you accepted the croissant and took his pen when yours ran out of ink. You let him sit beside you instead of across from you, and when he asked if he could see your textbook—“just to check if it’s cursed”—you didn’t say no.

Progress.

^^^^^^^^

Later that week, he found you outside the library in a study circle with three other students. He nearly walked by—he didn’t want to be annoying—but then he heard you laugh.

Taehyung stopped mid step.

You were glowing in the late afternoon sun, head tilted back, cheeks flushed from something someone had said. The group looked tight knit. Comfortable. Like you’d known each other for a while.

He stepped forward anyway.

“You guys studying for Abnormal Psych?” he asked, backpack slung over one shoulder.

The girl with the buzzcut nodded. “Yeah, why?”

“I’m in the class,” he lied smoothly. “Mind if I join?”

You looked up. Eyes narrowed.

“You’re not in this class.”

“I learn fast,” he said, already sitting down on the edge of the blanket someone had thrown across the grass. “Name’s Taehyung.”

Buzzcut girl perked up. “I’ve heard of you. You did karaoke dressed as an anime character at the bio major mixer.”

“Guilty,” he grinned.

“Didn’t know you were in psych, though.”

“Oh, I’m more of a… community learner.”

You snorted softly despite yourself. “This is a closed study group.”

“Not anymore,” Buzzcut girl said, pulling out her flashcards. “He brought gummy bears.”

Taehyung passed the bag to you first, catching your eye. “For your brain.”

You shook your head—but didn’t refuse them.

^^^^^^^^

Over the next two weeks, he became a fixture in your orbit.

He never asked for more than you gave, but he was always around—texting you helpful mnemonics, scribbling dumb doodles in the margins of your notes, bringing lattes and whispering jokes during tense study sessions.

You didn’t realize you’d started waiting for him until one day he was late and your stomach felt weird.

He showed up five minutes later with windblown hair and a sheepish grin. “Sorry, spilled yogurt on my pants and had to change. Very heroic story, I’ll tell it in full later.”

You didn’t say anything. Just nudged your shoulder against his as he sat down beside you.

He noticed.

Of course he noticed.

But he didn’t say a word. He just smiled.

Because you still hadn’t said yes to dinner. You hadn’t said yes to “just one date.”

But you’d stopped saying no.

^^^^^^^^

It was the kind of party that smelled like sweat, cheap beer, and bad decisions—one of those “someone’s cousin knows the guy who owns this place” situations where no one really belonged but no one got kicked out either.

The porch was packed. The lawn was wrecked. Someone had already duct taped a traffic cone to the roof.

It was a Thursday.

Your roommate had dragged you out. She was currently glittered from head to toe and sipping a vodka cranberry like it was a rite of passage.

“This is exactly what you need,” Nia said over the music. “One night. No textbooks. No overthinking. Just vibes.”

You weren’t sure if just vibes was medically advisable, but you’d worn your favorite jeans, a cute little corset Nia let you borrow, and actually styled your hair. So you were halfway committed.

And then he appeared.

Taehyung, standing in the hallway like he knew he was the main character—dress shirt sleeves rolled to his elbows, rings glinting in the dim light, curls wild and his grin wilder. Jimin was beside him, all smirks and shoulder shrugs, clearly playing wingman for the night.

You caught Taehyung’s eye.

And he lit up.

“Look who finally decided to be fun,” he said, weaving through the crowd like he had a spotlight following him.

“You’re everywhere,” you muttered, sipping your drink.

“I contain multitudes,” he replied, offering his hand with zero irony. “Dance with me.”

“No.”

“Please?”

“No.”

“Just one song?”

“You’re impossible.”

“And yet…”

You let him pull you in.

Just one song. One dumb, thumping remix with bass that shook the walls and made your teeth buzz. Taehyung danced like no one was watching—and if they were, he didn’t care. Loose, confident, chaotic in a way that made you laugh more than you should’ve. He pulled you into it without thinking—hands on your waist, forehead nearly brushing yours, smiling like you were already his.

Then it turned into two songs. Then three.

You pretended not to notice how close he got. How your body moved in sync with his. How his hands never strayed too far, but also never let you drift.

When the music shifted into something slower, more nostalgic, you ducked out with a mumbled, “Need some air.”

Taehyung followed. Of course he did.

The backyard was quieter. Cooler. The string lights hanging between trees buzzed softly, casting a golden halo around everything. You leaned against the porch railing, drink in hand, and tried to act unaffected.

“You’re good at that,” he said after a minute.

“At what?”

“Pretending you’re not having a good time.”

You glanced at him. “Maybe I’m not.”

“You are.” He bumped his shoulder against yours. “You laughed three times. Snorted once. That’s a strong indicator of fun.”

You rolled your eyes. “Maybe I’m just easy to amuse.”

“I don’t think you’re easy at all.”

That pulled your gaze back to him.

Taehyung didn’t look away.

He wasn’t smiling now. Not exactly. Just… watching you, like he was waiting for something.

“Why me?” you asked softly. “You flirt with everyone.”

“Not like this.”

You blinked. “Like what?”

“Like I mean it.”

The words sat heavy in the air between you. Not overwhelming. Not demanding. Just there—a quiet truth.

You didn’t know what to do with it.

So you leaned in, just a little. Just close enough to tempt fate.

And then Nia called your name from across the yard, voice bright and urgent.

You stepped back.

Just enough to make Taehyung smile—small, understanding, but with a flicker of disappointment he didn’t quite hide.

“Almost,” he whispered, more to himself than to you.

You didn’t respond.

Because almost was already more than you meant to give him.

^^^^^^^^

Inside, as the night wore on, Taehyung sat on the arm of the couch nursing a beer while Jimin hovered beside him.

“You okay?” Jimin asked, nodding toward the door you’d walked through.

“Yeah,” Taehyung said, eyes still on the space where you’d stood. “She makes me nervous in a good way.”

“Oof, that’s the scariest kind.”

Taehyung nodded. “I know.”

^^^^^^^^

The first day of summer was supposed to taste like freedom.

You’d graduated with honors, your cap decorated in glitter and photos, your cheeks sore from smiling. The night before, you and Damian had promised to meet at your favorite coffee spot to plan everything—dorm lists, road trip playlists, countdowns until move-in day. You were so ready for the next chapter.

He was fifteen minutes late.

That should’ve been your first clue.

You were halfway through your iced vanilla latte when he finally walked in, hands in his pockets, hair still wet from his morning shower. He didn’t kiss your cheek like he usually did. Didn’t smile like he had the night before when you slow danced to no music in your driveway.

He just slid into the booth across from you and looked down at his hands.

You remember the cold bloom of instinct in your gut. The kind that whispered, something’s wrong before anything had even been said.

“Babe?”

He didn’t look at you.

“I got into UCLA,” he said.

You blinked. “What?”

“I applied in secret. Early decision.”

“But…” You laughed, confused. “We were going to State. We both committed—”

“I didn’t sign anything,” he cut in. “I waited.”

The room spun.

“Why?”

Damian looked up then. Not cruel. Not angry. Just… removed. Like he’d already made peace with the explosion and was just waiting for the dust to settle.

“Because high school sweethearts is cute,” he said softly. “But it’s also… high school. I want to see what college has to offer.”

You stared at him, chest rising and falling like your lungs had forgotten how to breathe right.

“I don’t want to be tied down,” he added.

That part hit the hardest.

Like all your plans—every phone call about future dorm setups, every hand squeezing moment when college felt scary—had been your fantasy, and he’d just been playing along. Like your love had an expiration date, and he’d already circled it in red.

You swallowed the lump in your throat and asked the only question you could manage:

“When were you going to tell me?”

“I don’t know,” he admitted. “I guess… today.”

You nodded slowly, as if your heart hadn’t just been cracked down the middle.

“You could’ve just said you didn’t love me anymore.”

He winced. “It’s not that. I do. Just… not enough to stay.”

That was worse.

You didn’t cry. Not in the booth. Not in front of him.

You just stood, left your untouched drink on the table, and walked out into the summer sun that suddenly felt all wrong.

That night, you packed away every picture. Deleted every message. Blocked his name from your college folder. And when Nia came over with a pint of ice cream and a bottle of tequila, you didn’t say a word.

You just shook your head and promised yourself:

Next time, it’ll be different.

If there even was a next time.

^^^^^^^^

The rain started around sunset—soft at first, like a whisper against the windows. But by nightfall, it was pouring, steady and rhythmic, turning the sidewalks into mirrors and the air into something heavier.

You were at the library, third floor, tucked into a booth that always smelled faintly of printer ink and pencil shavings. A hoodie swallowed your frame, sleeves pushed past your knuckles as you clicked between tabs on your laptop. Notes, study guide, quizlet, back to notes.

You were trying to be productive.

Trying not to think.

But the words blurred together, and your chest felt tight, and your coffee had gone cold an hour ago.

You thought about texting Nia.

You thought about crying.

Instead, you just sat there, headphones in but no music playing, watching the cursor blink like it knew how close you were to breaking.

I want to see what college has to offer.

You could still hear Damian’s voice. Calm. Certain. As if you hadn’t spent two years memorizing each other’s schedules and picking out twin bedspreads. As if you hadn’t built an entire future together only for him to drop it in your lap like a stone and walk away.

You blinked fast. Swallowed hard.

And then—

Tap. Tap. Tap.

You looked up.

Taehyung.

Dripping wet from the rain, curls flattened against his forehead, hoodie dark with water around the shoulders. He grinned through it all, holding a brown paper bag in one hand and a lumpy, too bright bouquet in the other.

“Emergency snack delivery,” he said, voice muffled by the air pods still in your ears.

You tugged one out. “What are you—how did you know I was here?”

“You’re a creature of habit,” he said. “And you said you study here during exam week.”

“I could’ve gone anywhere.”

He shrugged. “But you didn’t.”

He sat across from you, no hesitation, already pulling things from the bag: chocolate covered pretzels, sour gummy worms, two croissants, and a lavender canned tea. Then—like a magician pulling a rabbit out of a hat—he produced a single, rainbow gel pen.

You blinked. “Is that mine?”

“I found it in your psych notes.”

“You stole my pen?”

“Borrowed. For morale.”

You stared at the offerings on the table.

“You okay?” he asked, quieter now. The smile hadn’t disappeared, but it had softened, curved at the edges with concern.

You hesitated. “Just tired.”

He nodded. “Tired sucks.”

And somehow, that made it easier.

You let him stay. Let him quiz you in a silly voice. Let him dramatically act out memory devices like you were cramming for a Broadway audition instead of a midterm. You laughed. More than once. He caught you smiling down at your notebook and said nothing—but he noticed.

Like he always did

At one point, you let your head fall against the window. He reached across the table and tucked your pen behind your ear like it was something precious. His fingers brushed your cheek, just for a second, and your whole body sparked like a struck match.

You didn’t pull away.

But you didn’t lean in either.

He didn’t push.

When the library announced its closing, you packed your things slowly. He waited. Held your laptop sleeve without asking. Walked beside you in the rain without offering an umbrella—just held it high enough for both of you to huddle under.

When you got to your door, you turned to face him.

The porch light flickered above your head. He looked at you like you were made of stardust.

“This the part where you kiss me?” you asked softly.

Taehyung smiled. “Nope.”

You tilted your head. “Why not?”

“Because I want you to kiss me,” he said. “When you’re ready. When it’s real. When it’s yours.”

You looked at him.

The kindness. The care. The way he never pushed, never pried, never reached for more than you offered.

Your chest ached.

“I’m scared,” you whispered.

“I know.”

“I don’t want to get hurt again.”

“I won’t hurt you.”

“You can’t promise that.”

“I know,” he repeated. “But I can promise I’ll stay.”

You blinked.

He smiled. Tipped his head. “Goodnight, beautiful.”

And he walked away.

You stood in the doorway for a long time after he was gone.

Not thinking.

Just feeling.

^^^^^^^^

The text came on a Tuesday, sandwiched between a group project meltdown and a mediocre dining hall salad.

Taehyung [1:04 PM] important question: do you believe in spontaneous joy, glitter, and road trips with questionable wifi? 🙃

You frowned.

You [1:06 PM] …what are you planning?

Taehyung [1:06 PM] music festival. this weekend. us, jimin, nia, a few others. tents. loud music. bad decisions. snacks. it’s practically self care!

You didn’t answer right away. He waited a whole ten minutes before sending another.

Taehyung [1:16 PM] i’ll bring gummy bears and the collapsible desk. and i’ll make you a playlist. please come🙏🏻 i want to dance with you under ugly lights and yell lyrics off key.

You stared at the message longer than you should have.

Nia leaned over your tray. “Is that the chaotic guy with the eyebrows and the emotional support snacks?”

“Yes.”

“Are we going?”

“I don’t know.”

“You want to.”

“…Yeah. I think I do.”

^^^^^^^^

On Friday, when the sun was just barely making its daily debut, you stood on the curb in front of the dorm with your duffel bag, hoodie pulled tight, trying not to look excited.

The van was chaos in motion—Jimin behind the wheel in yellow sunglasses and a mesh tank top, Hoseok in the passenger seat playing DJ, and Taehyung in the backseat waving at you like he hadn’t seen you in years instead of twelve hours ago.

“You came!” he shouted, throwing the side door open like a golden retriever greeting its favorite person. “You came.”

“You said there’d be snacks.”

“I said there’d be magic. Snacks are a bonus.”

Nia climbed in behind you, flopping over a pile of blankets. Someone tossed you a warm muffin. Hoseok handed you a tiny bottle of hotel shampoo, no explanation. It was perfect.

^^^^^^^^

The drive was loud, messy, and full of laughter.

They passed around instant cameras and took blurry photos at gas stations. Played Taehyung’s Mixtape Mayhem game, your movie montage song: Cigarette Daydreams; his: SexyBack, with no shame whatsoever. Someone kept losing signal. Someone else lost a shoe.

You hadn’t laughed that much in a long time.

And Taehyung? He watched you with this soft awe, like every time you smiled it made something in him settle deeper. He didn’t cling, didn’t crowd, just found you with his gaze every so often like he couldn’t not.

When you sang along to a song you loved, he watched your mouth like it was art.

When your head drooped against the window, he tucked your hoodie hood up without a word.

And when you caught him looking?

He just smiled.

^^^^^^^^

The air buzzed with bass and heat, the kind of energy that stuck to your skin. You pitched tents between strangers and strung fairy lights between trees. Someone spilled a soda on your blanket. Jimin got into a debate with a guy selling handmade jewelry about astrology. You danced under colored lights and neon fog and laughed until your cheeks hurt.

At some point, Taehyung disappeared and returned with glow stick crowns. He placed yours gently on your head like it was something precious.

“There,” he said. “Royalty.”

“Are you flirting with me?”

He blinked. “Am I not always?”

You couldn’t argue with that.

^^^^^^^^

Later that night the fire pit had burned down to a sleepy glow. Everyone else had drifted off to their tents, leaving you and Taehyung in the silence of stars and smoke.

You lay on your back in the grass, his arm close enough that you could feel the warmth of him. Your glow stick crown still flickered faintly. His curls were tucked under a beanie now, damp from sweat and fog.

“Tell me something real,” he said suddenly.

You turned your head. “What?”

“Anything. Doesn’t have to be deep. Just real.”

You hesitated for a few minutes before deciding to push past the fear.

“I think…I’m afraid of how much I like you.”

His breath hitched.

You didn’t look at him.

You just stared at the sky and added, “Because last time I liked someone this much… it didn’t end well.”

He was quiet.

Then his fingers found yours in the grass, slow and careful.

“I’m not him,” he said.

You finally turned.

“I know,” you said. “That’s what scares me.”

He didn’t kiss you.

He didn’t rush.

He just held your hand like it was the most obvious thing in the world. Like maybe you’d been holding his this whole time without realizing it.

^^^^^^^^

Finals week feels like the inside of a pressure cooker.

Sleep becomes optional. Meals turn into vending machine runs and half eaten granola bars that disappear somewhere in your bag. The library is open 24/7, and somehow still always full. Even Taehyung looks frayed at the edges—hoodie pulled low, dark circles under his eyes, curls tucked under a beanie he refuses to take off.

But he still checks in.

He texts you every day. Drops off snacks when you forget to eat. Leaves sticky notes in your textbooks with doodles and cheesy pep talks in his messy handwriting. On the morning of your hardest exam, you find a neon green post it tucked into your notebook:

you’re gonna crush this. and when you do, i’m taking you to celebrate. wear something that makes me weak.

You laugh out loud. Then immediately choke on your coffee and have to explain to your roommate why you’re smiling like the post it just confessed its love to you.

^^^^^^^^

It was past one in the morning, and the world outside your window had gone still.

Finals were less than two days away, your laptop fan was groaning like it was on its last breath, and your study guide looked like a crime scene—scribbled notes, scratched out equations, desperate reminders written in red pen.

You sat on your bedroom floor, a monstrously oversized t-shirt, bare legs tangled in a blanket, surrounded by empty coffee cups and open tabs you couldn’t bring yourself to close.

Your brain was fogged.

Your chest was tight.

The quiet wasn’t peaceful—it was loud.

You stared down at the mess of your planner, blinking back the hot sting in your eyes, and then reached for your phone without even thinking.

You [1:23 AM] can you come over..if you’re awake

You didn’t expect an answer right away. But thirty seconds later his reply came.

Taehyung [1:23AM] already halfway there

^^^^^^^^

You barely had time to drag your fingers through your hair and put on some shorts before there was a knock on the door.

You opened it to find him standing there in gray slacks and a too big sweater, and his backpack hanging off one shoulder like he’d come from war.

“Hi,” he said, voice soft.

You just nodded and stepped aside.

He looked around your room—saw the chaos, the barely contained panic—and didn’t say anything about it.

Instead, he set his bag down, pulled out a warm croissant wrapped in foil and a little folded paper crane he’d clearly scribbled something onto.

You opened it.

you’ve survived 100% of your worst days so far. let’s keep the streak going.

The tears came so fast you didn’t even feel them build.

“I don’t know what’s wrong with me,” you whispered.

Taehyung was already crossing the room.

“There’s nothing wrong with you,” he said, pulling you into his arms like he’d done it a thousand times. “You’re just tired. You’ve been carrying the world on your back for weeks. Let someone hold it with you for a minute.”

You buried your face in his chest, breathing in that warm, cozy scent that had become your favorite thing.

He didn’t rush you. Didn’t ask for anything in return. Just rubbed your back slowly and let you fall apart.

When the tears slowed and the silence stretched, he spoke again—low and gentle.

“Can I say something, or will it make you spiral more?”

You sniffed. “Depends. Are you about to tell me you failed an exam?”

He smiled against your hair. “No. I was gonna tell you I think I’m falling in love with you.”

You froze.

Not in a bad way. Just in that whole body still way that happens when something hits too deep to move.

You leaned back just enough to look at him.

“Why would you say that now?”

“Because I’ve wanted to say it for a while,” he said, searching your face. “And because I think you need to hear something true right now. Even if it’s scary.”

You stared at him, heart pounding.

And then slowly, carefully.

You kissed him.

It wasn’t cinematic, No swelling orchestra, no perfectly timed wind. Just his sweater against your skin, your hands in his hair at the nape of his neck, your breath hitching when he cupped your cheek like he couldn’t believe you were real.

When you pulled away, he was smiling like he’d just solved a riddle no one else could.

“You… kissed me,” he whispered.

“You said you were waiting,” you murmured back.

“I would’ve waited forever.”

You leaned your forehead against his, voice barely there. “Don’t.”

“Don’t what?”

“Don’t leave. Don’t change your mind. Don’t do what he did, please.”

Taehyung kissed your nose.

Then your cheek.

Then your mouth again.

“I’m not going anywhere.”

^^^^^^^^

Finals week hit like a freight train.

The library turned into a second home. Cafeteria food lost what little appeal it had. Everyone walked around with under eye circles and iced coffee IVs. You were running on four hours of sleep, two protein bars, and blind academic panic.

But somehow, Taehyung made it feel almost survivable.

He didn’t hover—he just showed up exactly when you needed him. A text when your brain fogged. A forehead kiss on his way to class. A note slipped into your textbook that read:

you don’t have to do this alone. but I know you can.

Every time you felt yourself unravel, he helped you stitch yourself back together.

And he never asked for anything in return.

^^^^^^^^

The night before your last exam, you sat side by side in his dorm’s common room, surrounded by half open notebooks and the distant sound of someone crying over a chemistry final. Your head rested against his shoulder, your body warm beneath a shared blanket.

You hadn’t kissed again since that night.

Not because you didn’t want to—but because something about the pause felt sacred. Like the next time it happened, it would mean everything.

“I had a dream last night,” you whispered. “That we were back at the café. You walked in and didn’t recognize me.”

Taehyung’s brow furrowed. “Why wouldn’t I?”

“I don’t know,” you said. “Maybe because I wasn’t… this version of me. I was still the girl from the first day of summer. Still waiting to be chosen.”

He turned toward you, eyes soft. “I’ve been choosing you since the second I saw you.”

You didn’t speak.

You didn’t need to.

Because the silence between you wasn’t empty—it was full of everything.

He reached for your hand, weaving your fingers together slowly.

“I know you were hurt,” he said quietly. “And I know I can’t erase that. But I swear, every part of me wants to give you something better. Softer. Real.”

You looked at him.

At the guy who bought you croissants just to learn your name.

At the guy who stayed.

Who always stayed.

“Ask me again,” you said.

Taehyung blinked. “What?”

“Ask me again to go out with you.”

His mouth curved into a slow, sure smile.

“Will you go out with me?”

You leaned in.

Kissed him like you were sealing something that had already been written in stone and yet brand new at the same time.

“Yes.”

^^^^^^^^

Two days later on the campus lawn, post exams, the sun was shining too bright. Students were lounging like survivors after battle. Nia had collapsed onto a blanket with iced tea and a victory playlist.

You were half asleep, head in Taehyung’s lap, as he read a graphic novel with one hand and played with your curls with the other.

“So what now?” you mumbled.

“Now?” he said. “Now we do summer. We do late night drives and brunch and museums and maybe even a weekend at that lake house my cousin keeps bragging about.”

“Sounds like a lot.”

“It is,” he said. “And it’s all with you.”

You closed your eyes, smiling.

Because for the first time in a long time, the future didn’t feel like a question mark.

It felt like a promise.

^^^^^^^^

You didn’t even need a destination.

Just Taehyung behind the wheel of his silver coupe, music low, the windows cracked open to let in the breeze. The sky stretched wide overhead, pale blue with streaks of clouds that looked like brushstrokes.

“You packed four pairs of jeans,” he said, glancing at your duffel bag in the backseat. “We’re gone for two days.”

“I like options,” you replied, flicking his sunglasses down over his eyes. “And you brought five different notebooks.”

“Those are creative tools.”

“Sure.”

He grinned, reaching for your hand across the console. His fingers laced with yours so naturally it felt like you’d always done it.

The road was empty. Just the two of you, the hum of the tires, and a playlist you built together that morning—equal parts indie slow burn, R&B, and old songs you both secretly knew every word to.

You leaned your head out the window and yelled into the wind just to feel it bite at your cheeks.

Taehyung watched you with a smile that made your stomach dip.

“Wanna stop?” he asked after a while, eyes flicking toward a peeling road sign that read:

EXIT 41 – Scenic Overlook | Fruit Stand | Antique Store

“Fruit stand?”

He wiggled his brows. “Adventure.”

You rolled your eyes. “Fine. But if this turns into a weird horror movie setup, I’m leaving you behind.”

“Noted,” he said, already flipping on the turn signal.

^^^^^^^^

Twenty minutes later you stood at the edge of a hill, hair whipping in the breeze, holding a strawberry soda in one hand and a bag of peaches in the other.

The overlook was quiet, just a small gravel lot with a single picnic table and a stunning view of rolling hills and wide open sky. The woman at the fruit stand had called you two honeymooners and given you an extra apple “just in case.”

Taehyung climbed onto the table and stretched his arms behind his head, shirt riding up just enough to make you look away and then look back a second later.

“This feels fake,” you said, settling beside him.

“What does?”

“This.” You gestured at the view. “Us. The quiet. Everything.”

“It’s real,” he said simply. “Just rare.”

You sat in silence for a while, sharing sips of soda and stealing bites of fruit, letting your bodies lean into each other without needing to say anything.

Then, out of nowhere—

“Marry me.”

You choked.

Taehyung was grinning, not serious, but not exactly joking either.

“Excuse me?”

He shrugged. “Someday. If you’re bored. If you need someone to keep bringing you snacks and calling you pretty forever.”

You looked at him.

At his messy curls and his sun kissed skin and the way he was watching you like he knew how to wait a lifetime for the right moment.

And for the first time, the idea didn’t terrify you.

It made your heart ache in a way that felt good.

“Maybe,” you said.

“Maybe?”

“Ask me again at another fruit stand.”

He leaned in, kissed your temple, and whispered, “Deal.”

| 3 years later |

The first chill of autumn always brought you back to the beginning.

It made the air sharper. The coffee stronger. The campus quieter, like it was exhaling after the noise of summer. And tucked between the music hall and the campus bookstore, Bean There Café still looked the same—wobbly table legs, moody lighting, a playlist that always seemed to know how you were feeling.

Table Four hadn’t changed.

Still near the window. Still a little crooked. Still yours.

Taehyung sat sideways in his chair, sketchbook resting on his knee, his left foot nudging yours under the table every few minutes like he couldn’t help it. His curls were longer now, his rings flashier. But his smile? Still exactly the same.

Across from him, you were highlighting a research article, one AirPod in, your cardigan slipping off your shoulder in that way that always made him pause.

He watched you for a long time before speaking.

“You’re really gonna make me sit here and suffer without saying hi to me properly, baby?”

You didn’t look up. “We’ve been sitting here for twenty minutes.”

“Exactly. That’s twenty minutes of missed affection. I’m traumatized.”

You set your pen down and raised an eyebrow. “Would you like a sticker or a kiss?”

“Yes.”

You leaned across the table and kissed his cheek.

“Greedy,” you said.

“Hopeless,” he corrected. “Hopelessly greedy for you.”

You rolled your eyes but smiled, and Taehyung felt something settle in his chest like a song finishing its final note.

He reached into his bag and pulled out a folded piece of thick paper—worn at the edges, carefully smoothed out. He slid it across the table without ceremony.

You opened it slowly.

Inside was a new sketch. A recreation of Table Four—but not the one from the past. This time, there were two mugs. A laptop. Your favorite pen. A shared pastry. You were looking down, focused. Taehyung had drawn himself mid smile, eyes only on you.

In the corner, in soft graphite:

Still my favorite seat in the world.

You blinked hard.

“This is unfair,” you whispered.

“It’s accurate,” he said, already reaching for your hand. “You saved my heart when I didn’t even realize I’d given it away.”

“You’re being dramatic.”

“I’m being honest.”

You looked up at him. Your Taehyung. The man who once brought you croissants for no reason. Who waited. Who never asked for more than you could give, but always gave you more than you knew to want.

You squeezed his hand.

“I’m glad I sat down that day.”

“I’m glad I saw you.”

Outside, the wind rustled golden leaves against the glass. Someone near the register was humming along to a soft acoustic cover of a love song you both knew. The coffee still wasn’t great. The wi-fi still glitched near the counter. But none of it mattered.

Because this table—this moment—this love?

It was yours.

And it always would be.

| 6 years later |

It was a Thursday night in late spring, and the city had finally started to bloom again.

You and Taehyung had gone to dinner at your favorite spot—quiet, candlelit, familiar. He’d been soft all evening, affectionate in that barely contained way he got when something was brewing behind his eyes. The kind of soft where his hand found your lower back for no reason. The kind of soft where his eyes never stopped smiling, even when his mouth did.

“I still say I could’ve made better risotto,” you teased, tugging on his sleeve as the two of you walked back toward the car.

“Untrue,” he said. “You would’ve burned the pan and added too much salt.”

You gasped. “You love my over salted cooking.”

“I love you, baby,” he corrected. “The cooking is a side quest.”

He kissed your temple and opened the passenger door for you, sliding into the driver’s side a second later like he hadn’t been checking the time on his phone every five minutes during dinner.

You didn’t notice.

Too busy pulling off your earrings and mumbling about whether or not you left the porch light on back at the townhouse.

^^^^^^^^

Ten minutes into the drive, you pass it.

A fruit stand.

Small, rustic. Just off the edge of a quiet road near your neighborhood. The wood was painted with soft lavender accents and little twinkle lights strung above it. There was a handwritten chalkboard that read:

Fresh Strawberries • Homemade Peach Jam • Love Optional

You blinked. “That… wasn’t here last week.”

Taehyung’s grip on the wheel tightened. “Wanna stop?”

You hesitated.

He looked over, a small, unreadable smile pulling at his lips. “Adventure?”

Your heart kicked up—familiar, fond, warm.

You smiled. “Sure. But if this is another horror movie setup, I’m leaving you behind again.”

“My beautiful creature of habit.”

^^^^^^^^

The stand looked even more whimsical up close. There were bunches of baby’s breath in tiny mason jars, a crate of freshly baked mini pies, and baskets of strawberries that still smelled like sun.

You wandered toward a basket.

Taehyung stayed a few steps behind.

You reached for a peach. “This is so weird, who puts a random fruit—?”

When you turned, he wasn’t beside you.

He was kneeling.

One knee to the earth. Holding a ring box that looked like it had been in his pocket for weeks, like it had been waiting for the right moment. For the right stand.

Your breath caught in your throat.

You barely registered the wind.

Or the smell of strawberries.

Or the sound of the breeze rattling the twinkle lights.

“I asked you once at a fruit stand if you’d marry me,” Taehyung said, voice quiet but steady. “You said to ask again someday. At another stand.”

You blinked fast. “Tae—”

“I knew then. I knew before then. Before croissants. Before gummy bears. Before that first party and the first road trip and the first kiss you gave me when you didn’t even believe in love anymore.”

His voice cracked.

You hadn’t even realized you were crying until a tear landed on your thumb.

Taehyung smiled—shaky, bright. “I’ve spent every day since just being lucky enough to love you.”

The ring was delicate. Gold band with a peach colored diamond. Your style, down to the last glimmer.

“So now,” he continued, “I’m asking again. One more time, with no expiration date, no more waiting.”

He looked up at you, eyes shining.

“Will you marry me?”

Your knees gave a little.

You nodded, too fast. “Yes. Y-Yes, I will.”

The ring slid onto your finger like it had always belonged there.

You barely had time to breathe before Nia screamed from behind a car, “SHE SAID YES, Y’ALL—COME ON!”

Laughter and cheers exploded around you.

From behind every parked car friends and family poured out, cheering and shouting, phones up, cameras flashing. Jimin was in tears. Hoseok threw confetti that stuck in Taehyung’s hair. Seokjin was already handing out mini champagne bottles.

You covered your mouth in disbelief as your world rushed forward in color and light.

Taehyung pulled you into his chest, arms around your waist, spinning you slightly.

“I can’t believe you did all this,” you whispered into his shoulder.

“I would’ve shut down the whole city if you asked,” he said. “But this felt more like us.”

And it did.

A quiet road.

A handmade sign.

The kind of love that started with a croissant and a ‘maybe’ at table four.

masterlist

sagittarius + scaramouche + drabble + fluff (and happy 1k!! :3)

deal with the devil (drabble)

penpal: hope this is to your liking, anon!

prompt: sagittarius the archer, time-stop soulmate au (soulmate au whereas time stops when two soulmates look at each other)

pairing/s: scaramouche x gn!reader

sypnosis: when yae miko request you to follow the traveler and help him in the shadows, you certainly didn’t expect to meet your soulmate at a crucial time.

includes: spoilers to 2.1 archon quest, scaramouche calls you a loser, fluff/no-angst

// SPOILERS TO 2.1 ARCHON QUEST //

"you should follow the traveler when you have the chance. who knows if he'll come across to one of those harbingers." your friend says, causing you to look at her instead of instead of the traveler– who's currently running away from sangonomiya kokomi's residence after finding out the truth of the fallen soldiers. "i'm sure you've seen how powerful they are." she adds, crossing her arms with a small smile.

you continue to stay silent. sure, you could go to the traveler and watch until they need more help, but what can you do if a harbinger actually appears? you unfortunately aren't experience in combat.

yae miko seemed to read your mind. "you don't have to worry about having to fight them. you can simply tell them to back away from you and aether in exchange of this;" she suddenly pulls something out from her hidden pocket, causing your eyes to widen in shocked at the sight of the familiar shape of a gnosis.

how on earth did she get that?

she giggles at the sight of your shocked reaction. "you don't have to immediately give it to them since aether is strong enough to take them down. just give it when needed."

you furrowed your eyebrows. "why do you want me to follow the traveler anyway?"

"i have my reasons. i'll tell you soon when you come back with him and his companion." she answers, handing you the gnosis for you to take.

"so, are you going to do it or should i do the dirty work myself?"

–

as you enter the delusions factory, your eyes immediately lands on the piled up bodies of fatui members, causing you to furrow your eyebrows at the gruesome sight.

you continue to walk towards the place, trying to ignore the corpses around you. has the honorary knight been this merciless? you honestly couldn't blame him. not after witnessing the tragic fate of one of the soldiers that aether seemed to be close to.

it didn't take long before you finally saw the traveler slaughtering every single fatui members who were getting in his way, causing you to watch the gruesome show while hiding in plain sight.

"don't be intimidated. lord harbinger will be here soon." one of the fatui agents says to the remaining troops before getting knocked out.

lord harbinger, huh? you thought to yourself. i wonder which harbinger will arrive.

as soon as you think about the harbinger, you immediately spotted a man walking inside the room, causing your heart to drop.

"you actually managed to find this place.. congratulations." he comments, crossing his arms as aether immediately fixes his battle stance, his dull blade aiming at the balladeer's directoon. "hah, barely two words in and you already look like you want me dead."

"you're manufacturing delusions." aether speaks up, his voice echoes around the room.

scaramouche gave him an amused look. "oh, so that's what this is about."

as the harbinger continues to have a conversation with aether, you suddenly look down at where the gnosis is hidden, waiting for something to happen for you to finally escort the honorary knight to yae.

it took a few minutes until paimon's cries catches your attention from the gnosis, your breath hitches at the sight of aether– who was currently kneeling down on the ground as a purple haze starts to envelop him.

you look at where scaramouche is, watching him laughing manically at the sight of the fallen traveler. "that's it, just like that! embrace the anger... EMBRACE IT!"

the moment the traveler fell down to the ground, you find yourself standing up from the ground and head towards to the scene and glare daggers at the harbinger– who hasn't noticed your presence yet until–

"balladeer,"

scaramouche seems to be taken back by surprise from your sudden intrusion, now looking at you with furrowed eyebrows. you thought he felt intimidated by you, causing you to feel confident in yourself.

"i will not allow you to fight the traveler." you explained, standing between scaramouche and aether with an intimidating look plastered on your face. "i'm sure you know that he's valuable to inazuma's fate and is off-limits to harbingers like you, so try and not mess with me–"

"and why pray tell should i obey a nobody like you?" he asks, crossing his arms. "if anything, i think you should be scared of even trying to face against someone like me."

you couldn't help but smile, bringing out the one thing that he– alongside the other harbingers– have been looking for for the sake of pleasing the tsaritsa. "does this answer your question, dear balladeer?"

his eyes slightly widens at the sight of the gnosis on your hand. "how the hell did you–?!"

"i have my ways," you interrupted, taking a few steps backwards from him in fear of the harbinger suddenly trying to grab it form your grasp. "that's honestly none of your business, don't you think?"

he watched as you started playing with the piece, trying to prevent yourself from laughing at the sight of his shocked face. "now, does this give you enough approval in not laying another hand on the traveler?" you ask, still smiling at the man.

scaramouche continues to stare at the gnosis, tempted to just steal it and never come back to this hellhole until the tsaritsa assigns him go back here again.

with thoughts swirling through his mind, scaramouche glances back at aether, who seems to still be unconscious. which one would be beneficial more to the tsaritsa? a gnosis or the head of the traveler.

with a small sigh, the harbinger nods defeatedly and reaches his hand out for you to give him the gnosis. "i suppose i'll spare the so-called honorary knight's life." he says, watching as you willingly place the gnosis on his hand.

"may we not see each other again, balladeer." you spoke up, turning away from his direction and immediately went to the traveler–

wait

why... why is everything frozen?

you blink a few times, thinking you were hallucinating from the overwhelming aura around the room, only to realize that everything except you and scaramouche is indeed frozen in time.

don't tell me...

it was scaramouche's turn to smirk, satisfied with your changed reaction as he lets out a chuckle.

"took you long enough to realize that i'm your soulmate, loser."

Deep Sea Chapter III. Yan Scaramouche x F Reader

>Rating: Mature. >Warnings: Yandere themes, amnesia, manipulation, depictions of anxiety.  >Word count: 5k. >Deep Sea Index.

CHAPTER III // DANCE AMONGST CORAL REEFS

“Heading out so soon, General Kujou?”

Kujou Sara, the most stalwart follower of the Raiden Shogun and semi-frequent patron of Shinju-an, acknowledges your passing with a curt nod. She walks in the opposite direction of where you’re headed — the innermost room your establishment offers. It boasts privacy and opulence beyond what the common folk could expect, lined pockets or not. Status is the precursor necessary to enter.

“Unfortunately, I am,” Sara stops long enough to entertain you. “My father is meeting with an esteemed individual. I’m afraid I can’t be present for the negotiations.”

How strange, you think. Is Sara’s high military ranking not enough to grant her access to this conversation? You were looking forward to her company. Nonetheless, what you want doesn’t change the fact that you’re here to work.

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