I am only comfortable writing fem readers! I have nothing against male or gender neutral peeps! I just want to give love to my fem and afab girlies out there! I also have more freedom with feminine pronouns but I'll try to write second pov too. This blog is more like a diary tbh. Mostly fem ocs.
I don't write incest, dubcon, noncon, degredation, domestic violence, pedophilia.
Masterlist♡
ℕ𝕒𝕣𝕦𝕥𝕠 || ℕ𝕒𝕣𝕦𝕥𝕠 𝕊𝕙𝕚𝕡𝕡𝕦𝕕𝕖𝕟
Neji Hyuga
Tba
Magi : The Labyrinth of Magic
Solomon Jehoahaz Abraham fics/oneshots
Tba
Hakuyuu Ren fics/oneshots
• Hakuyuu Ren x oc oneshot smut
■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■□
Puss in Boots : The Last Wish
Death / Muerte and Love / Lisa
• Love ♡ Death hcs
• Love ♡ Death First meeting
• Love ♡ Death; Love comforting Death
■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■□
Honkai Star Rail
Gepard Landau
Gepard x Fem reader : The best way to a person's heart is through their stomach
Dan Heng
Dan Feng x F!Reader x Yingxing : Sing for us, Darling~
Dan Feng
Dan Feng x F!Reader x Yingxing : Sing for us, Darling~
XingYue x F!Reader Fluffy Headcanons
Yingxing/Ren/Blade
Dan Feng x F!Reader x Yingxing : Sing for us, Darling~
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The thing is, they can’t just let anybody into RAD. They have to do some kind of background check, some kind of security measure. And given the limited technology of both angels and demons when compared to the human world’s, there’s obviously only one option left for the boys: transform into cats, and pray that you don’t notice how they stalk you. (Hint: You notice.)
Word Count: 6.6k
SFW
Characters: All Brothers + All (Un-)Undateables + Luke
The story of Balto is interesting. He led a team of sled dogs across the Alaskan wilderness in the dead of winter with diphtheria antitoxins to stop an outbreak in Nenana Alaska. Diphtheria is a deadly infectious disease that could wipe out a third of a town’s population. It is mostly unknown to the public today because of vaccines. Balto’s body is preserved in the Cleveland Museum of Natural History.
Let’s not forget Togo! Who, at 12 years old during the serum run, lead his team 200 miles through much more dangerous conditions during the first leg of the journey before Balto ran the last 55-mile stretch.
The town of Nome, situated in Western Alaska, was a relative hub for even smaller communities in the region, but in winter was utterly cut off from… nearly everywhere. The harbour iced over in winter, there were no roads connecting it anywhere else, the nearest railroad line was nearly 700 miles (1000+ kilometres) away in Nenana. Air travel was still new at the time and planes couldn’t handle the inclement winter weather.
In 1924, the community had a single doctor and a few nurses who served approximately 10 000 people, including large Eskimo populations in the area (the town itself had a population of roughly 1000 people - bear in mind how few children lived in this community when you see the casualty counts). He had realized his diphtheria vaccine stock was expired and had ordered more from mainland USA months earlier. When it failed to arrive on the final ship of the season, he was a little concerned, but diphtheria was fairly rare, and he figured he’d just restock in the spring.
Of all the rotten luck, January 1925 was when a diphtheria outbreak hit the region.
There was a scramble, in the mainland USA as well as Alaska, to find a way to get the vaccine to this town in the middle of winter. There were attempts to fly a vaccine supply over, but the planes were grounded by storms. This was part of the United States in the 1920s. There was no way to get there.
Except by sled dogs, running the vaccine from that train station in Nenana, 674 miles away. Over 1000 kilometres away, in the dead of winter in Alaska, by 20 mushers (mostly native Athabaskans) and 150 sled dogs running in relay, switching off at tiny villages and rest stations along the way. It was bitterly cold. As in, -85°F (-60°C) at the coldest. There were blizzards, hurricane force winds, and at some points visibility was so poor the men couldn’t see their dogs in front of them.
No man or beast should have been out in that. You freeze in seconds if you’re not moving. Multiple dogs died from being run so hard in such cold weather. Mushers grappled with hypothermia and frostbite. One needed hot water poured over his frozen hands because he was frozen to his sled. Another’s face was black with frostbite. Some strapped themselves up and lead their packs when their lead dogs collapsed.
This relay team traveled 674 miles in 5.5 days. Togo and his owner, Leonhard Seppala, did by far the longest and most dangerous run, travelling over 260 miles (about 420 kilometres) including the initial travel to his pickup spot. Gunnar Kaasen and his lead dog, Balto, did the final 53 miles (85 kilometres) into Nome, where they were greeted as heroes.
Prior to the vaccine arriving in Nome, 5-7 children officially died of diphtheria, with dozens of confirmed cases who may well have died without treatment - but it’s suspected the surrounding Indigenous communities were much harder hit, with numbers impossible to confirm.
When you think that this happened less than 100 years ago, how desperate this community was for a vaccine, how much these mushers risked and lost to get it to this town as fast as they possibly could…
Amazing art trade with @syrooo! Posting the beautiful piece they made for me. Hitsugaya looks absolutely STUNNING, I’m obsessed. Thank you so much, Syrooo!!
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— Jamil and Kalim see your henna/mehendi that Minajael did for you. And Jamil has… thoughts.
(continuation of this)
wc: 1.8k
Minajael squeezed your hand, “it’s getting late.”
You stirred on his shoulder. You squinted at the orange sunset, the earthy scent of the paste wafting in the air. “Guess this is goodbye, huh?” He didn’t answer, still gazing at your hand interlocked with his, idly rubbing the dried henna.
You’d meant it to be lighthearted, but Minajael’s eyes looked wistful. He seemed reluctant to let go, fingers laced with yours, and refusing to meet your gaze. Finally, he said “No. Bye for now, maybe. But we’ll see each other again.”
✨ Even though NRC and RSA were on opposite ends of Sage’s Isle, Minajael insisted on walking you back at least part of the way. Once NRC was in sight, Minajael squeezed your hand, “Text me when you get back, yeah?” You nodded, and did just that when you got back to Ramshackle. Then, you picked off the remaining henna paste clinging to your skin. You brought your hands up to your nose, smelling the residual scent. Earthy and warm. A reminder of the one who’d made the design for you, you smiled.
✨You admired the floral design and the pretty mandala, open like a blooming flower on your palm. Minajael told you it would darken overnight. True to his word, your henna had stained even deeper the next morning. It was even more vibrant today, you grinned. Still, maybe Minajael sort of messed it up. It sort of looked like some of the little petals got smudged, because it didn’t match the rest of them…
✨You just shrugged. Honestly, it didn’t really matter. You had your henna done! You practically skipped through the day, all but proudly shoving your decorated hands in everyone’s faces and watching their reactions. Your friends were impressed - even Grim wanted his own henna done too. You just smiled and nodded, eyeing his fur. Maybe instead you could have Minajael decorate a handkerchief and tie it around Grim’s neck…?
✨As you were lost in thought, a loud voice calling your name drew your attention. You looked up. Waving at you from the end of the hall with his drumsticks, was Kalim grinning at you. Behind him, you could spot Jamil shouldering his gym bag. They must’ve just finished up their club activities. Perfect timing!
“Hey guys!” You grinned at Kalim, watching him rush over to you. “Kalim, slow down-!” Jamil tried, but Kalim stopped just in front of you. “So you did get your mehendi done! Cater told us during practice!” You nodded, proudly holding your arms up, “mm-hmm!~”
Kalim’s ruby eyes sparkled, “Oh wow! Can I see?” He took your hand in his, pulling it up to see the henna. “Your mehendi is so pretty! It’s so detailed!” His hands were warm, gently running his fingers over your skin. You chuckled as Kalim twisted your hands around to admire them, ruby eyes sparkling. You must’ve been like this with Minajael too, you mused.
Jamil finally made it to you both, looking tired. “Hey Jamil,” you said with a small smile, ignoring Kalim scrutinizing your arms, “how was basketball practice?” He huffed, shaking his head with a tired look. “Floyd.” “Ah.” You nodded, deciding not to ask.
Kalim looked up, “Look! (Name) has their mehendi done!” That’s when Jamil finally noticed it. Silently, he admired the stain. It was nice, he thought. Even at a passing glance, anyone could tell your henna was painstakingly done. Flowering blossoms spiraled on your arms, finally reaching your hands. Even your palms had a design, a mandala stained darker than the rest of your skin. Jamil nodded with a smile, “It’s very nice, (Name).”
While Kalim gushed, Jamil studied the pattern. The design looked somewhat familiar. Jamil couldn’t quite put a finger on it, but there was something about the flower design. He just shook his head. Perhaps it was just a design you’d gotten inspiration from. Still, how did you even get henna out here in Sage’s Island? It was the off-season for when people typically got their henna done. Even Kalim didn’t have any with him.
Beside you, Kalim tapped one of the henna flowers thoughtfully. “This looks kind of like royal mehndi designs,” he commented. Your eyes widened, “really?” Kalim nodded, “mm-hmm! That design is usually done by the royal family! The jasmine flowers are pretty unique designs, a lot of people in the Scalding Sands like ‘em. I know my cousin does!”
At that, Jamil eyed the floral design carefully. Hmm, Royal designs? His brow furrowed. Was that where he’d seen those flower motifs? He shook his head, no, you must’ve seen it at the Scalding Sands when he took you to the Yasamina Silk festival. He must be overthinking it. “Did you look the design up online?” Jamil asked, keeping his tone even. You chewed the inside of your mouth, not wanting to say. “Um, kind of?” you said, not noticing Kalim turn your hand over to see your palm.
“Huh, that’s weird,” Kalim squinted, bringing your palm up close to his face. “Why’s Minajael’s name here?” You flinched as Jamil’s bag cluttered to the ground. Jamil couldn't stop the words coming out of him, “what?”
Minajaels name? Was in? Your HENNA design?! Jamil all but snatched your wrist out of Kalim’s grip. You yelped, but Jamil ignored it as he searched between the narrow mandala petals. “Mm-hmm!” Kalim chirped, leaning to point it out to Jamil. Kalim didn’t seem to notice the look on Jamil’s face, or that your eyes were blown wide, “Right here, on the palm!” Following Kalim’s finger, Jamil scanned through the mandala rows until he finally spotted it. In the looping script of the Scalding Sands language, was Minajael written among the layered petals.
You shook your head, “Oh, no, a part of it got smudged or something on my palm.” Poor Jamil just stared at your palm in shock, almost willing it to be a mere smudge instead of that spoiled prince’s name. Kalim shook his head, answering your question, “nope, that definitely says Minajael. Right, Jamil?”
At first, Jamil didn’t heard Kalim. His eyes were glued to your henna. The vine-like design climbing up your arms, the swirling patterns flicked perfectly outward, the mandala petals intricately and painstakingly drawn in - all of it was done patiently. Fit for a royal. That’s when Jamil realized - Your henna wasn’t just nice. It was done lovingly.
Something boiled in Jamil’s gut before he finally snapped out of his thoughts. “Yes, that’s certainly the Prince’s name,” he ground out, forcing a neutral smile on his face and letting go of the iron grip on your wrist. Kalim ignored Jamil’s inner turmoil, instead bringing your hand closer to you to point it out.
“See, (Name)? It’s right here.” Your eyes widened. Sure enough, the same area you thought was just a smudge, or maybe where Minajael lost control of the henna, was actually writing. Surprise overtook you as you studied your palm. Suddenly, the looping script didn’t look like random scribbles anymore, but an actual alphabet. So that’s how it’s written. Minajael… you looked at it thoughtfully.
Jamil’s gaze was sharp and narrow as he studied your expression. He didn’t like the soft look on your face one bit. “(Name), you didn’t… ask the henna artist to put his name there,” his grey eyes bore into yours, “did you?”
You just blinked, “no?” Kalim chimed in, “yeah, why is his name here? Usually having someone else’s name in your henna design means that you’re enga- mmph!” Jamil smacked his hand over Kalim’s mouth. Luckily, you were too caught up squinting at the mandala on your hand to register what happened.
You shrugged, “I guess… maybe he left his name there as a signature?” At Jamil’s deadpan look, you stammered to explain, “y’know, like how an artist signs their artwork! Yeah!”
Kalim nodded in understanding, while Jamil frowned. “So, he did this for you?” At your wide-eyed look, Jamil pressed, “you saw him yesterday?” You pursed your lips. Dang, looks like you were caught. You just nodded nonchalantly, playing it off, “yeah, he did my henna.” If you were lucky, you could maybe get out without a lecture. Unfortunately, you weren’t so lucky. You sighed inwardly as Jamil’s eyes grew wider than a Spelldrive disk, already freaking out. “What?!”
You just shrugged, “It’s fine, I just… had some free time, that’s all, and I went to Royal Sword Academy for a bit.” Really, it wasn’t that bad. You’d left NRC with permission before, so why did Jamil look so indignant?
“You can’t just leave campus like that!” Jamil blustered, all exhaustion from the day gone as he scolded you. You tried not to roll your eyes as you began walking towards the Hall of Mirrors. “I’ve left campus before, Jamil. I’m a big Prefect, I can handle myself. And this was worth it!” You wiggled your henna-stained fingers, trying to lighten his mood. Jamil just groaned, “That’s besides the point!”
Kalim just grinned, slipping his hand into yours. “Hey, maybe we should get matching mehendi when this one fades!” You grinned, “definitely! What do you think, Jamil?”
Jamil just exhaled. Typical of Kalim to make plans on a whim. You looked over, “Jamil?” You prompted. He willed his shoulders to relax, and nodded. “Sure. I’ve done Kalim’s mehendi in the past, and Najma’s too.” Kalim brightened, “we could all have matching mehendi’s!” he cheered.
You grinned, nudging Jamil as the three of you began walking towards the Hall of Mirrors. “Hey, maybe I could try doing yours!” Kalim chimed in, “Yeah! You never have your mehendi done, Jamil!” Jamil hummed at that. It wasn’t often that he’d had his own henna done. Between handling Kalim and managing his own school and work affairs, it wasn’t something he really had time for. Still… He glared down at your hand with that prince’s name scrawled in your hand.
As if his name being there wasn’t bad enough, it was also the placement. Something about Minajael’s name being scrawled in your palm made Jamil’s skin on edge. To have his name in your hand… Jamil scowled. As if that prince wasn’t spoiled enough, he even had to go and put his name on you. How presumptuous. Even if your name was in his own hand, the idea still frazzled him. He wouldn’t even want his own name being inside anyone’s hand. The mere idea made scowl. Did that pampered prince even ask you what you wanted?
After you waved your goodbyes, he and Kalim walked through the Scarabia mirror. While Kalim chattered excitedly about your henna, Jamil was more pensive as he thought about the flowers encircling your arms. If he were to do your henna, what design would he make? Perhaps stars or animals? Maybe he could do arches inspired by the Scalding Sands architecture. You seemed to like it when you visited. What about faux-bracelets encircling your wrists? He shook his head, huffing. This was ridiculous. He’d simply ask you what you wanted, and he’d do it.
Soon he was back in his dorm room. Even now, he was still stewing over your mehendi design an hour later. It was the sheer intimacy of having Minajael’s name in your palm… He scowled. And the audacity. Minajael’s name in your palm was still on his mind, no matter how much he tried to push it out of his head. He unwound his hair from its braids, looking back at his reflection in the mirror.
He wouldn’t dare inscribe his own name in your skin without you knowing. Jamil stared at himself in the mirror, eyes darkening at his reflection as he undid the last of his braids. Although… Some little part of him couldn’t deny the intimacy of having a name on someone’s skin. His thoughts drifted. Where would he put your name on himself? Certainly not in his palm. The implications of having you in his hands made his thoughts turn sour. Idly, he stretched his wrists, still tight from club practice. Then he stopped.
Jamil looked down at his wrist. Idly, he brushed a thumb over his skin until he could feel his pulse beating underneath - dutiful, strong, and ever-constant.
The rhythm of his heart, proof of life.
A smile tugged the corner of his mouth. Maybe he didn’t know what designs he’d create, but he knew one thing he’d like. Your name written in henna stain over the pulse on his wrist. Yes. That would do nicely, ya hayati.
I hope this was ok!! Personally I’ve always thought getting someone’s name in henna over the wrist pulse was super romantic so. I indulged myself. Also I had no idea what to title this lmao 😭
Anyway this was a lil late bc I didn’t know how to end it but lmk what you guys think :D Thanks for reading!! I’m glad so many people liked the Minajael part!!!!
Until next time, take care shrimpies~
Xoxo Calci!~
Crystal divider and color changing divider by @/cafekitsune. Banner made by me lmao, plus photos i got off pinterest
There were always little tells that Minajael had a soft spot for you. Doing your henna/mehndi was one of them ✨
(pt ii with Jamil & Kalim)
wc: 1k
✨Doing his own henna was a form of rebellion. Back at home, Minajael would have to sit still for hours while others did his henna for him because “a prince does not do his own designs!” Like many other things, it irked him that he couldn’t even have freedom over his own henna. Whenever he could, he’d sneak a few henna cones back with him to RSA. And if he had time, he’d doodle little designs on himself and occasionally his classmates. And now, you!
✨It all started when you were finally able to ditch Crowley’s chores and visit RSA. Ambling through the pristine white castle, the two of you chatted for hours. You’d be halfway through your rant when you’d gasp. “That’s gorgeous! Let me see!” Minajael waited patiently, letting you ‘ooh’ and ‘aah’ at the intricate art. Your excitement was infectious. The sparkles in your eyes almost made the long hours of lecturing and sitting behind the palace walls worth it.
“Minajael, Its beautiful,” you breathed. All your complaints about your day (and Crowley’s nonsense) were long forgotten as you reached for Minajael’s hand. “You like it?” he asked, lifting an eyebrow with a smile. You were practically holding his hand, turning it around just to see the henna designs staining his golden skin. You hummed in agreement, “I’d like to have it done on me someday.” With a shrug, you let his hand go. You were startled when his hand interlaced in yours. The words left him faster than he realized, “I can do it for you, if you want.”
✨Bro has some of the prettiest henna/mehndi designs ever. You know he’s come back from visiting his home in the Scalding Sands solely because of his arms and hands, decorated with that good long-lasting dark stain henna.
✨He’ll admit, he didn’t always enjoy the duties that came with being a prince. But having his mehndi/henna designs done was something he did enjoy. Minajael’s skin would always have the most intricate, delicate designs - flowers with shade hatching, net-like patterns, and fingers tipped in dark brown stain.
✨Over the time you sit together on the bench, the soft scent of the henna paste wafts up to you. After talking, you decide on doing a design similar to his. That way, even after you’ve parted ways, you still have a bit of him with you, as cliche as it is. Minajael is certainly on board - He’s partial to jasmine flowers and looping swirls in his own designs. You’re no exception. And soon enough, your own hands are decorated with floral designs that compliment his.
✨he definitely hides his name in your design. It’s written in the language of the Scalding Sands, but you can tell it’s something. “Hey, that doesn’t match the pattern. What is that?” Minajael merely waves you off, “it’s nothing, now stay still. The lines will turn out crooked.”
✨Don’t be fooled, keep talking. Minajael literally snuck away from RSA’s group just to spend as much time with you as possible. Pretty soon, he’d have to pack up and go back to the Scalding Sands, and then it was back to entertaining the countless suitors and suitresses being thrown at him. But for now, he’d take some refuge in your company, with your hand in his as he tries to show a fraction of his feelings for you in the henna paste decorating your skin.
“Done,” he leaned back. You gasped in awe, lifting your hands up to admire them. “Minajael, its gorgeous!” The soft scent of the paste wafted in the summer air. Beyond your hands, he smiled. “Yeah,” he agreed, eyes still locked on your smile. Gorgeous, indeed.
You stretched, being careful not to smudge the henna paste. “Perhaps you should head back,” he said quietly. It was already late. The sun was already setting. Still, you were loathe to leave Minajael, and it seemed he was too.
“Yeah, just… maybe in a minute?” Gingerly, you rested your hands on the bench, “Just until it dries?” Minajael snorted, shaking his head. “Sure.” Nevermind that your henna was already as dry as could be, flaking off onto the ground beneath you.
You rested your head on his shoulder, eyes fluttering shut. It was only when you’d finally drifted off to sleep, Minajael finally got the courage to slip his hand into yours.
He brought your hand up, studying the design. Unfurling jasmine flowers blossomed up your arm, framing the intricate mandala on your palm. Loops and swirls twisted up your fingers, and on your palm was an open flower. Selfishly, Minajael found himself turning your hand over to see your palm.
It didn’t take him long to find it. Among the mini flower petals, hidden in the design, was his own name written in his original tongue. He brushed his thumb over it wistfully, leaning his head on yours.
It was selfish of Minajael to write his name on you, and he knew it. He, who loathed the idea of being married off, hiding a part of him in your henna design. It was normal for engaged couples to hide their names in the others’ henna designs, and maybe he’d just wanted to see what it would be like. Having your name in his, and his name in yours. He snorted softly. Maybe he wouldn’t be so defiant of the suitors and suitresses who paraded into his palace if one of them was you.
As Minajael stared at your hand, the thought dawned on him. He snorted with a half-smile. The irony of his name placement on your hand wasn’t lost on him.
Of course he’d written his name there. You had him in the palm of your hand, after all.
*slams the door open*
THIS IS MY OFFICIAL CONTRIBUTION TO THE RSA HYPE THANK YOU FOR READING!!
Can’t wait to write more when rsa gets fully revealed!! Until next time~
I love people who have specific characters that are their "no one understands this character like me. not even the writers." because they're genuinely not joking. the way they understand those specific characters is so profound that it'll change your entire veiw.
Me about Zuko from ATLA, Poseidon from Record of Ragnarok, Seven Demon Brothers of Sin from Obey Me, and many more, but these are my current obsessions. Maybe it's because I was a HUMSS student and that's why I over analyze everything.
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
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Reblogs/comments highly appreciated. I am still doing this, just very slowly.
cw. fluff, hurt/comfort, established relationship, gender neutral reader, chubby reader
Dan Feng can sense when something is not quite right with you. It was like a sixth sense that he had specifically honed for you. He can tell when your mood turned sour or blue. Could taste something bitter on the back of his tongue when he breathed the same you did. He could tell by the soft pinch between your brow and the subtle, gentle press of your plump lips stretched into a thin line that something was amiss. There was something on your mind, your gaze glazed and distant as dark circles lingered beneath your eyes.
You barely stirred when Dan Feng joined you sitting on the back porch, the wood creaking beneath his footfalls as he took a seat beside you. You had barely touched your mug of hot tea sitting beside you. The gentle breeze stirred through your hair and you watched the clouds roll by, your plush skin bathed in the warm rays of the afternoon sun.
“Is something wrong?” Dan Feng quietly murmured.
His tail hung by your plump waist, making you scoot just a little closer into his personal space, until your shoulder brushed against his and his knee was pressed into your thick leg. You turned your head towards him at the sound of his voice, blinking slowly as you were shaken out of your stupor. You had been so lost in thought you hadn’t really noticed when Dan Feng had taken a seat beside you. Your lips twitched at the corners as you tried to force a smile. It didn’t work, eyes still looking distant even when you looked at Dan Feng.
You managed a nonchalant shrug of your shoulders as a soft noise tickled the back of your throat. It signalled that the answer was both a yes and a no. It signalled that the answer was a little bit more complex than that.
“It’s…stupid” you softly replied, gaze turning shy as you averted your eyes.
Your lashes fluttered rapidly over the round swell of your chubby cheeks, the sunlight hitting your eyes and reflecting just how soused your heavy lashes were. Your unshed tears like a constellation clinging to the edges of your eyelashes. You took in a deep breath, the sound whistling through your teeth and hurting your ribs when you quickly exhaled through your nose. Your throat bobbed nervously when you swallowed thickly, trying your best to keep everything together. You hated crying in front of Dan Feng. You were such an ugly crier.
Dan Feng reached over to you when the wind stirred through your hair again, picking out a stray leaf that got tangled in your hair. He plucked it from your hair, showing it to you before letting it drift away on the wind again. His fingers smoothed down your hair, tucking stray locks behind the curve of your ear before they trailed over your warm skin. You could feel the feathered tip of his tail brush against your ankle as he silently urged you to come closer to him.
“Don’t say that” he replied, voice a mixture of gentle but firm. “It’s not stupid when you’re this upset.”
Your shoulders sagged slightly at his gentle reprimand. Dan Feng never did like it when you spoke ill of yourself. He refused to let you get away with it. You tried to force a smile again but it fell flat. His clawed fingers trailed from your face, slowly moving down your arm until they wrapped around your wrist. You were completely lax, not resisting his touch as he raised your hand and rested your palm against his face. Your gaze flickered as you felt his warm breath touch the inside of your wrist, his lips ghosting over the flutter of your pulse.
“You’ve been overworking yourself again, haven’t you?”
You hummed softly in response as you leaned forward, your forehead bunting against his as you melted further into his touch.
“Overthinking again? Beating yourself up over it? Refusing to seek my help?”
You hummed again and nodded. You were like an open book to him, so easy to read. He didn’t take your behaviour as a personal slight. He knew it was not easy to break these habits. You would regularly push yourself, spread yourself thin for others and lose your emotions along the way when your abundant kindness was met with demands for more. Whenever you found it difficult to regulate your emotions, you withdrew in on yourself out of habit, not used to having someone to hear nor help you. Instead all you could do was berate yourself, your mind your own worst critic. You would hold onto that ball of pent up emotions, repressing them until you were forced to let go of it.
Dan Feng preferred a much, gentler approach.
You felt his slow exhale as his lips pressed against your wrist again. The warm rays of sunlight made his horns glow an ethereal colour, the jade splendour bathing your skin in its radiance as you were pulled further into him. You could feel the intimate press of his nails against your skin as he held you, kissing your skin slow as his bright gaze flickered over your face. He dragged his thumb under your sore eyes.
“You are tired. You need to rest” he reminded you. “Give yourself a break. I know you’re trying your hardest.”
More cracks started to show in your facade. He could feel the rapid flutter of your pulse beneath the press of his lips. You took a shuddering breath as you sniffled softly, burying your face into the crook of his neck when you felt too overwhelmed. He could feel the tremble of your hand pressed into his cheek as he dragged his hand along the notches of your spine. He gently shushed you when the first teardrops started to fall, lips still pressed to your pulse point as your feelings came pouring out.
“It’s going to be alright. Rest your mind now, darling. I’m here for you.”
yingxing who falls in love with you during his youth and spends several years romancing you and finally manages to tie you to him via marriage
yingxing who is over the moon and brags about you to his friends who are so done with his bullshit and think he’s mocking them for being single
yingxing who loves everything about you, from the way you pin your hair with hairpins he made to your eyes that glitter like moonstones, from the way you understand his passion for creation to the egg tofus you make in the early mornings, from the way you laugh-snort to the way you are passionate and vibrant
yingxing who through the passage of years looks at your ever youthful features and pauses, tracing over the face that remains beautiful in his eyes, and suddenly becoming acutely aware of the slight signs of age in his own
yingxing who feels his throat tighten whenever you hug him and tell him you love him even when his hair greys out, even when there are so many others just waiting for him to die and take his place, even when you will be forced to bury him in the stars because he doesn’t have the same lifespan as you
yingxing who hopes, selfishly, that you will keep him in your memories at least.
.
.
.
blade lives.
blade who sees his flawless reflection and has the urge to claw his own face off.
blade who remembers a blurry face that makes agony lance through his head. blood and bone and tears. glassy moonstone. a broken hairpin.
blade who only has revenge and hatred and pain and a curse pushing him onwards.
he lives— perhaps wretchedly, perhaps agonizingly, and most definitely undeserving of it, but that doesn’t really matter, does it?
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Dynamene, youngest of the 50 Nereids, has lived most of her adolescence as a servant alongside her sisters at Poseidon’s palace. But with her coming-of-age birthday and other developments, what she initially thought was just admiration of her master blossoms into something stronger and more passionate… and painful. Loving someone like Poseidon is not easy period, let alone as your first love. But Dynamene is young and naïve, and all she wants is a chance to be at the sea god’s side.
Categories and warnings: Romance, angst, unrequited love, coming-of-age, earn-your-happy-ending, slow-burn (ish); sexual content. Violence, blood, and body horror in parts 15, 16, and 17. Mildly graphic smut in part 25.
