🍼⭒๋࣭°ཐི鳳梨酥喝奶昔ᵎᵎཋྀ° ๋࣭⋆

lead guitarist.

Wriothesley being a charmer is an understatement. Popular with not only fans but also metal enthusiasts, he is known for his technicality in shredding, especially during solos. Often found arching his back in unholy angles during sweeps and tapping when he is basking underneath the spotlight so the press can get good photos of him.

Has an awful habit of breaking his guitars from swinging them dramatically mid performance. Recently, the three month old wireless guitar system fell victim to his antics. His newest sixth stringed guitar is black, as expected, in a lightning bolt silhouette from ESP (LTD SD2).

Paints his nails black (which always chips after a show) and keeps Neuvilette’s white and blue pick snug on his guitar head and strings to his bandmate’s dismay.

rhythmic guitarist.

Lohen is the band’s newest raging recruit, as the rhythmic guitarist. Rumoured to have played with the Wanderer in his previous band but was kicked out with mysterious reasons. Some fans are concerned with his reputation and how it may affect his new bandmates but gossip are not whole truths.

Plays the seven stringed guitar and as their roadie Aether claims, “plays the guitar like a madman”. His relentless play style enhances the brooding tones of certain songs, and is sometimes seen playing a duo with Wriothesley as though in competition.

Stylish in turtlenecks and chained jewellery, his ears and lips are pierced with a smallest peek of a tattoo around his waist. Makes the most intense eye contact and unsettling expressions whilst playing to engages with the audience. At the end of each show, he never forgets to throw his picks out to the crowd to feed his ego before dramatically bowing.

the bassist.

Out of all the members, Durin appears the most intimidating, yet arguably to Aether and other roadies, he’s the most approachable out of all members. He’s always the first to arrive at rehearsals and can be seen cleaning his purple Jackson five stringed bass.

Prefers finger style playing over pick and hangs his bass below his hip for speed and because it looks cool. Most of the backup vocals and growls are done by Durin, but his specialty lies in slap bass which the composer purposefully adds in many of their discography.

Organises the setlist for each show to make sure the crowd experiences a vastly different show whilst highlighting their diverse discography.

the drummer.

Varka is also the leader of the band. The glue who keeps the team together. Perceptive as he is, after a long rehearsal he cracks jokes to lighten up the mood to ensure there’s no bad blood between the guys (cue to everyone looking at Lohen and Wrio).

He claims to be the composer and mixer for many of their songs, but Aether is still waiting to listen to Varka’s demos or see him open any audio workstation software. Ghost writers are very common in this industry after all…

Alhaitham clears his throat, crossing his arms with a raised brow, despite the remaining wisp still tugging at the corner of his lip. “Am I not allowed to smile?”

By now, he can accurately read your tells and predict your actions: pursed lips and shifting eyes…all in a poor attempt to hide your grin as you quip back with something smart, or flirtatious, or on certain days, shameless—any of which might send a lesser man into a fluster. Not that he fares particularly better when it comes to you…

So he cuts you off while he’s still ahead, his strong arm easily pulling you back into his sphere, and with a tilt of his head, gestures at the fountain, letting curiosity guide you as it casts your reflection onto the waters’ surface once again.

“Just thinking about how pretty you are…”

And pretty you are indeed when he sits you between his legs, your bare back arching away from his chest as he curls his fingers in your cunt, hitting exactly where he knows you’d keen. His free hand kneads at the meat of your inner thigh, parting your legs wider in the process, your pussy lips following suit, blooming with the sticky sound of your wetness. 

Alhaitham huffs, impressed, as he glances into the mirror standing steadfast before you both. Large and unwavering, it’s resolute in its honorable pursuit to uncover the truth—the one with your cunt propped open and your head thrown into the curvature of his neck. The one you’re clearly not yet privy to, if your eyes are squeezed shut in the midst of all your pleasure. It’s a shame, really. For although he’s never had the ambition to conquer the unknown verities, if such beauty were the splendor of all the world’s truths, then he’d gladly partake down this endless road—as a scholar or as a madman. After all, who better to perfect his limited human perspective, than the fairest one of all? 

Tilting his head, he kisses his way up the column of your neck, feeling you curl into him as he paints intermittent bruises on your supple skin, stopping only when he reaches beneath your ear so that his teeth may tug lightly on its lobe. 

“I know how you love to admire your own reflection…” His voice gravels in your ear, the rich baritone sending a shiver whose reach extends all the way down to your core. “So don’t you want to see how pretty you look?” 

“No. That’s—” Whining, you continue to shake your head at the very prospect, ignoring the clear disconnect as you tighten and clench around the fingers still holed up inside of you. “‘s embarrassing…”

He hums from deep in his chest; thoughtfully amused at how such words could leave your mouth, when your cunt gushes as unabashedly as if she were attempting to lure his fingers further with a squelching song of her own. But there’s nothing to tempt, when there’s no iron will to break, for your bodies move like the moon and the tide: ebbing and flowing, ever connected, fates intertwined. Where his thumb spreads to draw harsh circles, your breath shallows in response, crying out at the sudden aggressive waves of pleasure that surge at your clit. Your nails dig into the sheets, hips lifting and squirming to no avail, as he continues to barrage you from the inside out. 

“Haitham…” you breathe, and he knows you’re close from how you moan through sealed lips, brows furrowed and teeth clenched, until the disappointing realization that he’s pulled out. Your doe eyes flutter open, perplexed and brimming with spoiled petulance at his amused brow and little smirk, whilst at the same time, your lips part with all the intention of asking your lover ‘whyyyy?’, if only for the fact that he’s simply…faster. 

Slick-coated fingers grasp onto your chin, slowly tilting your head down—away from that safe corner by his neck—so that you’d come meet him in the mirror, with all your vanity in tow. He holds your gaze, never turning away, not even as his head dips again so that his lips are level when he whispers low and sultry into your ear.

“If you look away, I’ll stop.” 

…And so you watch as Alhaitham turns his attention back between your legs, spreading open your folds until they’re well smeared with your free-flowing slick. And you watch as two lithe fingers penetrate past your slit, steadily pumping slow, smooth strokes, before splintering apart to stretch you open in preparation for the third prodding at your entrance, eager to join the fray.

“That’s it,” he coos, though his low voice does absolutely nothing to soothe how you squirm against him at the…discomfort? The fervor? Perhaps even the discomfort of such fervor, as it’s become nigh difficult to tell, when his free hand has migrated to fondle with one of your breasts, roughly kneading the mound to double your sensations. “Look at you…” 

Yet what is there to look at but the lascivious combination of your shame and desire? Both wrestle for a place in your reflection, battling to outweigh the other upon your visage…but it’s hardly a fair fight when shame has never been your forte—especially not when you squeeze around him so tightly, almost as if in resistance to how he’s scissoring you open.

It’s almost mesmerizing how your body reacts so eagerly: how your mouth falls open in a gasp and then a squeal, as your gummy walls concede to stretch by way of his provocation. Or that slight hitch in your breath, chest stuttering as you inhale the familiar stretch of three digits sinking into your cunt whilst you sink ever deeper into the watery depths of such hedonistic volitions.

Still, Alhaitham so greedily grasps at every open inch of you, ravishing your body with almost everything at his disposal. His chiseled frame looming behind you as he holds you open and bare, his grip the jaws of lust incarnate; his heavy breath crowding on your skin like a heated apparition of his own dire need to fuck and please and share in the admiration of just how beautiful he thinks you are—until like fine mist, it disperses across your mind, and the shame melts off your bones, replaced with only the desire for more, for him, for more of him.

“Haitham…” you mewl again, brows furrowing in an earnest attempt to keep your eyes open in spite of the rush, because god forbid he stop… 

But it’s tortuous, the way Alhaitham pumps his fingers in and out—slowly, steadily—so that you’d see in your reflection, just how wet you are, hear every squish that sounds as he repeatedly buries himself three knuckles deep. Your slick coats his skin with a layer of gloss at every re-emergence, wordlessly conveying that it isn’t nearly enough to satisfy the burning ache between your legs.

“Please more… ‘m so close…” Pleading, you do what you can to muster your sweetest voice, your most honeyed cadence, in the hopes that you’d persuade him to your cause, rolling your hips to embody your words, furthering both his reach and your intent. For all the time you’ve spent in the Nation of Wisdom, it’s certainly helped to remember that only praxes can truly validate such words of honesty, and you truly are honest in your intent to cum.

“As you wish,” he hums, and his breath wraps around the shell of your ear in a warm embrace (though it’s hardly even an ember compared to the heat quickly ebbing in your belly.) The want amplifies by tenfold as he digs the heel of his palm against your clit, forcing another wave of euphoria to course through your form, as he angles his fingers in pursuit of where you feel him most. 

Every twist, every curl, beckons at sweet release, as the tips of his fingers drag past each velvet inch of your walls at an ungodly pace, drawing out your orgasm with such magnetic fortitude that even your own lucidity seems to fade in the midst of such mental upheaval. It goes, and it goes, and it’s gone—as if the plug had just been pulled from your very being—and like a doll, your eyes fall shut to the joy of diving back into such revelry.

A sharp slap to your clit jolts you back to reality with a staggered gasp, your thighs nearly snapping shut at the sudden impact, while rootless static fills the emptiness in your stolen pleasure. Your perpetrator, however, only spares you a half-lidded glance whilst he continues to brandish the finishing touches of another hickey along your neck.  

“Keep looking,” he issues, one part a command, the other, a warning. His grip loosens from your thigh, allowing your legs to fall just the slightest bit slack, before his voice softens and he pries open the lips of your drenched cunt, strumming through your folds so unbearably lazily, as you situate your gaze back into the mirror. “I want you to see everything I do to you…”

“Like how pretty you are when I touch you…” He dips a finger between your pussy lips, unfolding the rippling petals on his way up your slit, carefully paving the way for his place beneath the hood of your clit. “Here,” he drawls, rubbing at the nub so deliberately, that the sudden titillation evokes your instinct to shrink away with a broken, pitched cry; for wherever you squirm, Alhaitham follows, and backed against his chest, there’s nowhere left to turn, but forward at your reflection in the glass. 

It's obscene. You’re obscene. But despite the disconnect with your head, your body still begs for more, and you think it’s almost pathetic how far you’ve sunk into his magnetism (though you vaguely recall it was once the other way around) that you hardly recognize the figure before you, so…distorted by the draw of lust. Your chest heaving with every breath that circulates through full, parted lips, your face bleary from carrying the heavy weight of pleasure on your lashes. Yet, the longer you watch, the more you glisten between your legs, clearly seduced by that perfect view of your own body on display. 

Perhaps there is something provocative about the way your folds are spread, barred open by his fingers while he taps away at your clit. Perhaps there is some coquetry in the way your empty hole drools, some enchantment in how your juices shine…everything to flaunt how you need to cum—how you need him and anything he’s willing to give. 

Your eyes begin to glaze, your focus drifting as you continue to stare at how your lover’s reflection so teases the hardened nub, every touch drumming your nerves with pleasure like the beguiling lull of gentle waves. At least your lungs seem to appreciate the monotonous pattern; your heaving chest adjusts to match his rhythm, the faint stimulus now an almost comfortable familiarity—one too easily shattered by the whims of another, as Alhaitham presses firmly into your swollen clit.

Renewed arousal swells in your belly, burning through whatever you thought had previously dissipated, and closing the window on any remnant of self-restraint, as you soon start to squirm with electrified impatience. Once steady breaths devolve into ragged gasps; your spine curves and your hips jolt, all from exposure to Alhaitham’s prolonged stimulation, writhing this way and that, until you inevitably grind against his cock, surprising him with his own throbbing rush of sensation. 

“Do you see how,” Alhaitham grunts, gritting his teeth as he holds down a groan, “erotic you are…” Even half-dazed, you can feel just how hard his erection stands against the small of your back.

You exhale, waveringly so, as you steady yourself before releasing your grasp on the sheets, clawing weakly at his toned bicep in an effort to garner his attention. Between your misty eyes and sweat-mottled skin, disheveled hair and trembling thighs…there’s a delicate show of tenacity as your reflection holds his gaze, daring to dance with the devil you’ve chosen to submit to. “So show me what I look like when you fuck me.”

“Gladly,” he chuckles, and there’s a wicked glint that shines from beyond the turquoise, accompanied by a dim clang and a quiet rustle, as he frees his cock from its fabric confines. 

A low growl rumbles from deep in his throat as his hands run a path along the concave of your waist, before scooping you up by the underside of your thighs, and shifting you further in his lap—spread open on wide display, behind the glaring pink of his leaking tip. 

Alhaitham drags his cock along your slit, gathering slick from your fluttering anticipation, as he tempers the urge to plunge into you right then and there. He swallows the thought, giving way for the honeyed lilt of your name to flow from his lips instead. You turn, looking up at him with that darling half-lidded gaze, and he breathes in the sweet image of your pretty face. Please allow him to have one good look at you—the real you, in the flesh—before he fucks you into oblivion. 

He presses a chaste kiss to your forehead, murmuring something you don’t quite catch. “‘Ayouni,” he hums, aligning his cock at your entrance. (My love, my eyes—as precious as the gift of sight.) “Nour ‘ayouni…” His tip dips past your entrance, wallowing in the tight fit, before finally pushing into your quivering insides—a resolute promise to fill both your desires, and your cunt as deep as you’d take him. (Light of my eyes, anything for you.)

Large hands secure themselves onto your hips, easily crowding you in until your knees are folded before your tits and your back is pressed flush against his chest. Every bead of sweat stitches your bodies together, skin on damp skin, though only you are locked on full, shameless display; your body and limbs tethered to invisible strings in his hands—a doll to maneuver and fold as he pleases.

A pitched sob breaks the thickness in the air, followed by a few hushed whimpers and stifled moans, as you watch yourself take him, inch by overwhelming inch. It’s never truly occurred to you how big he really is—at least not until now, when you’re confronted before your very eyes with just how much your little hole must work to accommodate his size. That initial stretch when he first pushes past your folds, and how it grows wider little by little as he forges on… (it’s no wonder you always feel so delectably full.) Or how you can clearly see the protruding veins disappear as he glides deeper (is that how he’s always able to touch upon every crook and corner?)

The sight alone has you pulsing: your greedy cunt quite literally drooling at the prospect of swallowing him down to the base, churning out more slick to ease his descent, and melting any discomfort into delight. As his bonafide lover, it’s one thing to be fucked beyond belief, but to see yourself completely surrendered to your lecherous desires, and entirely pliable at his behest…? What a terrifying way to solicit your pleasure.

Still, you’ve no choice but to sputter out a moan as your walls constrict around his shaft, drawing out a grunt from Alhaitham with how titillating it feels when you cling to him like this. His rasp reverberates on the shell of your ear, travelling down your spine like lust-tainted fire to pass the message down between your thighs. And although dew threatens to blur your vision, from what you can see in the mirror, it’s clear that he’s yet to bottom out. Even worse, is that you can feel the emptiness—your insides so cravenly wanting what is amiss—because it’s just so inherently wrong that you aren’t full enough, that he isn’t deep enough.

An urgent hand flies to tangle your fingers in his hair, as you turn to pull him into a wanton kiss, your lips just as greedy as your hips that grind on his cock for more. “Want you,” you murmur between tongue and teeth, exchanging breaths as desperation and uncertainty clash in your throat, and crack like lightning in your voice. “All of you, all the way…please…?”

“Aren’t you, ngh,” he pauses, failing to swallow down his grunt, as disbelief rolls in with another tide of arousal that pulses in his cock. His attempt to taunt, ruined by his inability to resist any longer. “Aren’t you shameless today?” 

“Don’t care.” Though slurred, the words still tumble out of your mouth with a sense of urgency, your fingers curling against him, grasping onto the hope that he’d finally fill you. “Just n-need you.” In such a deliriated state, it’s difficult to tell whether you had imagined the way his breath rings through the hollows of your bones—the resounding echoes of a small, yet exasperated laugh reverberating through the very core of your being…but it was real, and his presence was there, and how could he ever say no when you’re asking for his cock so nicely? Per your request, of course he’ll drop you lower onto his shaft. 

Alhaitham groans, powerless against the way you whine, tightening around him as he advances further and further, until he bottoms out with a guttural ‘fuck.’ He’s never had you in such a position, but with you atop his lap and gravity as his prerogative, it’s suffice to say he’s reached... 

“Too..d-deep…” you babble, eyes rolling back as your words disperse into the same nothingness that’s engulfed your thoughts. 

A soft tut tut clicks from his tongue, followed by a light roll from his hips…and suddenly your string of whimpers break into a shrill gasp as his eager tip kisses the entrance to your womb. Alhaitham is, after all, a man of his word, though this time, he lets his actions speak in his stead. (Where did I tell you to look, habibti?)

There’s little time to process any of his wordless cues—especially not when his stuttered breath is hot against your neck, the warmth just beginning to melt away the jarring discomfort of being penetrated so deeply, before equally warm fingers squish your cheeks to turn your attention back to the mirror in question. “Like what you see?” he whispers, and your dew-laden eyes flutter open to the sight of you and him: thighs spread, legs tangled, your hips on his, as you sit impaled on the entirety of his length. 

All you can muster is a whimper and a nod, because what else can you do when you’re so overcome by the feeling of Alhaitham…everywhere? On your tongue where you can still taste his kiss, in your veins where his love circulates to your heart, and most obvious of all, in your cunt where his leaking precum swirls with your slick.

“Show me where you feel me,” he rasps, gingerly plucking your hand away from that wrinkled patch of sheets you so desperately latch on to. His touch is sticky on the back of your hand—no doubt the remnants of your juices still clinging stubbornly to his fingers, like a souvenir collected from his last venture between your legs—but he serves well as a guide: directing you along your abdomen, letting just the very tips of your fingers, ghost across your sensitive skin. 

“This…” Starting at the apex of your thighs, he helps you along the path up your lower waist. “... is how far I am inside you…” 

You can’t help but wonder if it were even possible to be buried so deep within someone, but curiosity gets the better of you, and your hand begins to move on its own, absentmindedly glossing over where you feel his tip so deep, it almost seems…taboo. Not that you really care for the ins and outs of such moral standards, especially when it feels so right to be stuffed so full. Or perhaps your eyes are simply playing tricks on you—dirty work done by the fog that’s settled in your head with the sole intent of altering your cognition. 

“Don’t believe me?” Hand in hand, he presses gently down onto your belly, where even the slightest bit of pressure is enough to make you jolt. But from the way he struggles to catch his breath, to the violent throbs bursting all along his length, Alhaitham too, suffers from the repercussions of his boldfaced provocation—too human to act as if he’d been left unscathed.

For even as you cry in little songs of pleasure, your walls almost seem to be spinning a trance of its own: clenching and unclenching, the pulsating rhythm urging him to move… Which he obliges to of course—adjusting ever so slightly, until he’s perfectly angled and prodding at the divot that absolutely ruins whatever’s left of you, as you’re made to feel everything all at once. Every long, languid stroke comes as an electric current, reinvigorating dead limbs as the muscles come twitching back to life, conducting more and more arousal with every rough drag of his cock. Euphoria surges and sparks fly, overloading the wires in your head, with each thrust into the very spot that unravels you so. 

“Keep singing for me,” he murmurs, content with how the shape of his name breaks into pieces of fragmented  whimpers and moans, echoing across the room. It’s clear his words are largely lost on you—displaced by the fresh barrage of wet kisses down your neck, to be absorbed through your skin and used as fuel for your core. 

“That’s it…” Alhaitham keeps his eyes locked on your reflection; eager, despite his own fraying disposition, to catch all your reactions. “My beautiful girl…who always…” 

His grip tightens around the meat of your thighs, while a dominant hand glides up to the back of your knee—effectively lifting your leg higher and spreading you open wider—before a quick, rough motion lands him somewhere inexplicably deep.“…takes me so well.” 

You keen, nails digging into whatever they can, anything that might still tether you to this reality when every sensation has been ignited into something far too big for you to handle. Your back curves in response, arching away from his chest, but the shift in position only sits you deeper on his cock, and a shrill sob cracks from your throat, as your stomach coils and your teary eyes flutter open to the direct image of your reflection. In the mirror’s shallow abyss, your looming orgasm stares back as its own depraved monster—inhabiting your body and tainting your pretty face with lecherous intent, as it urges you to let go. 

“Come on, let go…” Or perhaps the fiend whispering in your ear is Alhaitham himself. “I promise you’re just as ravishing when you cum,” he croons, speeding up his pace to climb the heights of his determination. “Maybe even more so…”

The sheer intensity of his rough fucking is overwhelming. The extensive depth, the meticulous precision, the impressive girth—they’re all things you’ve come to expect in the bedroom with your less-than-feeble lover. But to exploit your vanity, whilst simultaneously feeding you with praise…to hold you open with his own hands, to make you a spectator of your own base instincts… 

It’s a dangerous combination. It’s too much. It has your entire body trembling as the pressure peaks—your muscles wound taut, and your pussy clenching tight. 

“‘m c-cumming…” you sob, though your quivering voice soon falls flat from the sheer enormity of the orgasm that races to smother you in its fervor, replacing the blood in your veins with liquid bliss, and allowing that to circulate through every inch of your being, until it becomes the only thing you can even bear to breathe.

The name ‘Haitham’ tangles with your cries, and he loves it—addicted even, to the sound of you, the sight of you—finds it near impossible to tear his eyes away from that perfect view of your pretty little cunt, obediently stretched and fully stuffed with every inch of his length. Warmth blooms and engulfs him at his mushroom tip, and Alhaitham bucks by reflex, desperate to chase your waning orgasm with his.

He’s close too; you can feel it. The familiar (yet delusional) way in which each throb seems to fill you out even more, the relentless increase in speed and force, unapologetically running his veined cock along your sensitive walls, over and over until he drags you back to the edge. His own breath skips and stutters in his lungs, but still he punctuates each word with power and precision, jutting in as deep as you’d allow him to follow. “Just. Like. That.” 

And so, when it breaks, it shatters—like skipping stones across the water, rippling and disruptive as they bound on and on in a path of hedonistic destruction—until your vision blanks, and your body convulses, and your mouth falls open in a silent moan. Your release comes in a violent torrent, uncontrollably battering through your body as you drench him in your juices, leaving the remaining splice of your consciousness trembling, spent, and completely surrendered to the pleasure. 

Somewhere in the white noise, you hear the echo of your name, said with a pleased lilt, as if he were…impressed? Proud? Maybe even both, for Alhaitham finds himself mesmerized by the undeniable, tangible evidence, that he’s pleasured you this far beyond belief. It’s surreal—the only word in any of the languages he’s studied (including yours)—that could even begin to describe such eroticism. For a moment, he loses track of his movements, lets his hips fall to an irregular rhythm as he fully takes to the reflection in the mirror: colorless, liquid pleasure still dripping from your hole, glistening as it runs down his shaft with every shallow draw…only to be pushed back with a squish and a squelch from the wetness that now finds a rival in the soaked sheets. 

Without hesitation, he pummels back to reality, thinking only with his cock, as he pounds into you with a newfound ferocity that seems almost inhumane…but then again, a mermaid like you isn’t quite human after all.

“Can you, ngh, hold out…a little longer…?” His voice is low and strained, yet still retaining a softness reminiscent of morning mist above the waters, grazing wisps atop your skin. (Just a little longer, I promise.)

“‘kay…” The word spills from your mouth, melted and slurred into a weak mewl, too dazed to process much, other than the fact that you’d do anything he asked of you, even at your own expense. Just a little longer…(but ignore the tears that prick of overstimulation.) For him, for Alhaitham, anything for Alhaitham (in spite of how your body screams ‘too much,’ as you cream around his cock again, this time faster than all the others had come.)

Any sense of clarity found in your mantra, only serves to prove that perhaps your head truly has been scrambled to nonsense, because the only thing you could even fathom to think of, is the desperate need for him to finish inside you. For him to paint you with a white fire so hot, it’d cleanse away even the smallest remnants of your tortuous embers. The final few thrusts come sloppily—too busy drowning in your deluge to care—while the very last stroke nuzzles deep against your womb, as he fills you full of his cum. 

Two sets of labored breathing resonate around the room, and in the afterglow, Alhaitham sets your frail legs down, knees buckling and knocking into one another, as your feet are finally brought to rest on something solid. (Though mentally, you don’t feel any closer to the ground.) Still, the drastic change in position shuffles his cock against your sensitive walls, breathing life to another soft groan that escapes into a silent harmony. 

“Sorry,” he whispers, peppering you with soft kisses wherever his lips can reach. The unyielding grip, once pressed so firmly into your thighs, melts away—replaced by gentler hands that work to sooth the tenderness in your flesh. “I’m going to pull out now, okay?” He readies himself to withdraw from your warmth, but you blink your bleary eyes, and the distant stars in your pupils illuminate just a fraction more. 

Alhaitham studies the ‘you’ in the mirror; watches the steady rise and fall of your chest as your breathing evens out, and your red-rimmed gaze drifts down the length of your body. One of your hands absentmindedly wanders, delicately brushing over the dark imprints left upon the skin of your thighs, color-matched to the hickeys blooming along your neck and shoulders—each one a bruise forged from his passion. And nothing could ever attest more to the throes of passion than the very reflection of your bodies, melded seamlessly together: his cock in your cunt, leaking with shared essence.

‘How…beautiful…’ 

You shake your head in dreamy opposition. “W’nna stay like this…for…a bit longer…” Your words trail into a content sigh as you rest your head back against that comfortable nook at the juncture of his neck, angling just enough to still catch your reflections in the mirror.

notes2: as always, thank you for reading, reblogs + feedback are very much appreciated ♡

The memory sent a shiver down your spine, though you couldn’t deny the thrill of realising how the Lord of Rock had practically begged for you to get on top that night. That same feeling returned now as you prepared to sleep with him again. 

You basically asked for it, though. 

When he revealed his identity to you, you had some questions. The first was if he had a real form, to which he replied: I have many.

Then the second question—or rather, request—was to see one of these forms. He was happy to oblige, but you hadn’t expected him to be so… forward.

I’m not being forward, he defended himself, My skin is part of my form. It just so happens that I have to adjust my attire for you to see it properly. 

But he knew exactly what he was doing.

“Zhongli—” His name now felt strange on your lips as you stared, spellbound by his new appearance. You were so captivated that anything could have rolled off your tongue and you wouldn’t have noticed… or cared.

He truly embodied every depiction of Rex Lapis you’ve ever seen.

“Is something the matter?” He asked as if his arms weren’t adorned in glowing geo patterns, as if his physique wasn’t carefully carved by millennia as a leader. He stood over you while you sat on the edge of your bed and you gulped at the vitality in his features. 

He looked larger—more youthful, even.

“What do I—” You hesitated, wondering if your question was foolish. “What do I call you?” 

He cupped your jaw the way he always did, though now with bare hands darkened by power that you could barely comprehend. “You can choose whichever name you like,” he replied. “It doesn’t change who I am to you.” 

Your mouth went dry. It was frightening how much more irresistible he seemed like this.

“Morax,” you whispered, mostly to yourself.

His brows lifted slightly, but he stayed silent.

“Morax,” you repeated, louder this time. You knew calling him ‘Rex Lapis’ would have been more respectful, more appropriate, but after seeing him in this divine form, with barely a towel wrapped around his waist, you knew that respect had already been thrown out the window. You would ask to be forgiven but what difference would it make if the god you pleaded to stood right before you, looking so compromised?

“Interesting choice,” he chuckled as he pressed his thumb to your lips, “Now, lie still and let me enjoy what belongs to me.”

Those words sank in like branding on your skin—what belongs to me.

He was slow with you at first, hovering over you as you lay back. The silk of your nightgown clung to every curve of your body which left little to the imagination and Zhongli was so engrossed with his view, that the lust in his eyes made something inside you stir. You had to look away, your arms instinctively moving to shield your flushed expression.

After all, it wasn’t every day that you found yourself at the mercy of a man so many prayed to.

Gently, he pulled your arm away, “Why do you turn from me, my love?” He tilted his head, studying you like prey, but the tenderness in his voice reminded you that the ghost of your sweet Zhongli was still there, lingering beneath this form. 

“Are you regretting your curiosity?”

“I guess… seeing you this way makes me a little… shy,” you said, though you didn’t believe your own answer.

Before you could say more, his mouth was on yours, fierce and reassuring. It took the air right out of your lungs. You barely had time to recover before he started trailing softer kisses along your jaw, then down your neck, leaving a path of warmth in their wake. 

“Shy?” he repeated against your skin, “After all we’ve done, you’re still shy?” He slid his hand up your sides, tangling his fingers between the fine silk. “You may be skilled at keeping secrets but not from me. Tell me the truth, my sweet.” 

You opened your mouth to respond but you couldn’t stop your back from arching at his touch, which was very much an invitation for him to tear off the delicate fabric from your body. When he did, it left your chest exposed to his hungry gaze, earning him a small gasp and a deep ache pooling between your legs. 

“You’re so small in my hands,” he mused, fingers tightening around your throat for a brief moment. "And yet… you offer yourself so willingly."

You had offered yourself to a god.

You had offered yourself to a god.

“Do you understand what you’re doing?”

A shudder tore through you as he took both breasts into his hands and sank his teeth between them, leaving you with little marks made from canines you had never seen before. When you suddenly felt his hard bulge pressing against your core, you realised the towel around his waist had already been discarded. How could you even respond to him?

“This excites you, doesn’t it?” He murmured into the crook of your neck, grinding against you. He didn’t give you a chance to speak when he pried your legs open with one knee. “Have I ever told you how intoxicating you smell when you’re like this?” 

Harder than before, he bit into your neck and you found your fingers tugging on his hair.

“You can… smell me—?”

“I can sense you,” he corrected, “And I know exactly what you want from me." You could certainly tell he was pleased with himself yet instead of pushing you away, it only drew you in further.

With a single motion, you hooked your finger around the pin holding his ponytail in place, and pulled—freeing his hair so it cascaded down over his toned muscles.

He looked perfect. Divine. It was your way of confirming what he already knew—that you wanted this, wanted him.

Zhongli’s eyes glowed in the dim light and there was no mistaking the godly aura of Morax residing in him. The air seemed heavier under the weight of his presence. You were suffocating.

A deep growl elicited from his chest as he pushed the tip of his cock against your underwear, teasing your entrance. You whimpered at the way he bullied you, desperately pulling him in for another feverish kiss to satisfy at least one need.

This one was hungrier, messier. His groan vibrated through your mouth as his carbon-black hand slid back to your throat, squeezing just enough to make you gasp for air. 

Each twist and flick of his tongue felt like a silent demand: Give in. Yield.

In this state, a picture cleared. Zhongli's hands were everywhere—tangled in your hair, between the valley of your breasts, dipping into the areas you ached the most. This side of him was primal, gluttonous, and possessive. Every touch felt forbidden—blasphemous, even. And yet, you couldn’t bring yourself to say you weren’t enjoying every sinful second of it.

Finally, Zhongli parted from the kiss, his breath heavy as his eyes stayed locked with yours. For once, he allowed himself to make you completely at his will. 

The head of his cock pressed harder against your entrance, the flimsy barrier of your silk underwear doing little to dull the intensity of his lust. He was desperate to feel the warmth inside you. You were already soaked, and he knew it—he could feel it, smell it, and it drove him wild.

“My dear,” he said, sound impatient now, “you know I admire you, right?”

“I do,” you replied too quickly.

“Good. Because I don’t want you to be mistaken.”

“What do you mea—”

Before you could finish, he pulled your underwear to the side and let his cock glide against your folds. Your hips moved with him, coating his shaft with your wetness, and that was enough for him to forget about taking it slow. Groaning, he shoved his blunt tip inside you and it left your thighs trembling. Your body felt like it was on fire, jerking back as his length stretched you out, your fingers gripping the sheets tightly, “Oh my—” you gasped.

Had it been that long since you last did this, or was this form accompanied by godly… benefits?

With his head thrown back in sheer pleasure, he let out a throaty grunt, almost salivating at the way your walls pulsed around him—like your body had been made just for him. Somehow, sex felt even better in this form and it had him feral enough to hold the sides of your hips, fingers digging into your flesh to anchor himself between your legs. “That’s it,” he growled, “Take every inch.” 

He started thrusting—hard—the sound of skin meeting skin echoed off the walls. Your breasts bounced in rhythm, and he was so entranced by the sight he could cum on the spot. Every second, he was ripping moan after moan out of you as he fucked you into the mattress. 

“Morax,” you called out, your voice shaking while he pumped in and out of you relentlessly, “So… good. I want more…” You ran your hands across his chest, feeling the quickening of his breath. His face shifted into a predatory look and you realised that he was losing himself as much as you.

“Then come here,” he groaned through gritted teeth, spoken exactly like someone who had never been defiled.

He didn’t wait for you to respond. Instead, he flipped you to your stomach, left your ass in the air and your legs hanging off the bed—your toes barely even touching the floor.

You braced yourself for his unyielding pace, but he surprised you with a tender kiss on your shoulder, “Tell me if it’s too much.”

The unexpected affection made your heart swell so you wiggled against his crotch, inviting him for more. He chuckled, almost pityingly, knowing full well what he was about to do next.

You couldn’t even catch your breath before he pushed back inside you, hissing as he indulged in your warmth. You swore you were well-behaved but somehow this felt like a punishment. He, who was so deceptively gentle a moment ago, found your hair and tugged it into his fist, drawing a sharp yelp from your lips.

Once he started moving at the same unforgivable pace, each thrust forced his name out of your mouth. “M-Morax— Mor–ax,” you were barely coherent and it riled him up the more you said it. It surely wasn’t the first time hearing someone call him that but in this context, he wasn’t going to make it his last—especially if it was you.

"Is this what you wanted?" he growled, his voice resonant, like the rumbling of the earth itself. 

“Y-Yes…”

Although, you weren’t sure what you expected when you asked to see his form but you knew what you were receiving now was the primal strength of something foreign to you.

His heavy cock stretched you so deliciously, filling you so completely that every nerve in your body screamed with pleasure. You clawed at the sheets as you creamed rings around his base and the wooden bedframe groaned with each erratic thrust.

His movements were undeniably getting sloppier and his breaths came in short, guttural huffs. “Feel- how- deep I am inside- you?” he rasped, punctuating each word with a sharp snap of his hips. “You’re taking it so well.” You couldn’t see it but you heard a grin dancing behind his voice as he pushed deeper.

Your feet were lifting off the ground with each thrust, leaving your ass stinging from the relentless pounding. When you felt his free hand snake around to cup your breast, fingers squeezing your sensitive nipple, you practically melted. “Thank you… Ple—,” you whined, the only words you could really manage.

But that was enough for him.

Zhongli’s grip on your hair tightened as he pulled, forcing your head back while his other hand dug into the soft flesh of your breast. The pain mixed with pleasure sent your vision into a blur of white. It shouldn’t feel this good but you could feel your orgasm coming despite being nothing but a ragdoll in his powerful hands. 

His body trembled as he chased his release, each thrust growing more urgent as he drove into your G-spot. Every stroke sent waves of pleasure through your body until finally, your climax hit like a tidal wave. Letting go of your hair, you collapsed against the mattress. It was too much so it left you biting into the sheets, a cry ripping from your throat as your pussy clenched around him, milking his cock with each spasm. “I-I’m—ahhh—cumming!”

“Just like that,” he groaned while your body tightened, savouring the way your body responded to every thrust. He was unable to think about anything else aside from the feeling of your muscle clenching and pulsating, “So tight—keep going. You’re perfect like this.”

With one final snap of his hips, you felt him pulse between your walls, his balls tightening as he emptied deep inside you. Thick ropes of hot milky cum filled you, his cock twitching as he buried himself to the hilt. Your name rolled off his lips in a low, drawn-out grunt that was raw and animalistic, a sound that made you delirious enough to go another round just to hear it again. 

Even after he finished, he stayed pressed against you, fucking his cum back into you with lazy, satisfied strokes, filling you over and over until there was nothing left to give. 

“I’m… full,” you whispered shakily, still feeling every inch of him inside you.

“Are you alright, my dear?”

Yes and no. If getting tossed around meant you were fine, then sure.

"I'm okay," you breathed.

"Good girl."

When he finally pulled out, you went completely limp, rolling onto your back while a thin layer of sweat left your skin glowing.

You could feel Zhongli doing the same, his body mirroring yours as you both lay there, chests heaving, struggling to catch your breaths. After a moment, you turned to face him, both of you blinking at each other under the light.

“This… wasn’t what I meant when I said show me one of your forms,” you managed to say. 

“Are you complaining?” 

You let out a soft sigh as you stared up at the ceiling. Even after all this, he hadn’t lost his sarcastic sense of humour. “No,” you admitted, feeling warmth creep into your cheeks. “It’s just that… well, I think I might’ve enjoyed you—the real you—a little more than I expected. A little more than what’s appropriate, perhaps.”

You couldn’t help but dance around the memory of all the offerings you’d given Rex Lapis throughout your life. Was this his gift in return?

“Oh? Pray tell, what is it that you enjoyed so much?”

You hesitated but the way he looked at you made it impossible not to answer. 

 “I liked… the way you moved…" you felt slightly embarrassed to continue but he nodded for you to go on, "You were rougher on me, but it made me want more…”

While you spoke, you noticed subtle changes in him. His pupils began narrowing into thin slits, and his golden irises seemed to glow with an ethereal light. The sharpness of his fangs became more pronounced, peeking between his lips. His fingers, which had been tracing circles on your arm, now felt a little sharper, almost claw-like.

“And… your strength,” you gulped as you watched his transformation. “It was… overwhelming. I couldn’t resist it but I didn't want to. I felt safe.”

A low, rumbling growl emanated from his chest, his hand sliding possessively to your waist. It made your stomach flip.

“If that’s the case,” his voice was deeper now, almost a purr as his newly revealed tail coiled around your thigh. He leaned closer, his breath hot against the shell of your ear. 

“Why are you trembling?”

© 2024 grimmweepers — do not repost, copy, translate, modify my work on any platform

"That's fine. That's okay." His voice stayed level. "You don't have to stop it. We're just gonna sit with it. Breathe in through your nose for me. Slow. Like you're smelling something cooking."

A broken laugh punched out of you. "That's--that's stupid."

"Yeah, probably." He grinned, and something about the complete lack of panic on his face made your chest loosen by a degree. "Do it anyway. In through the nose. I'll count."

He counted to four. You barely made it to three before your breath hitched.

"Good. Now hold it--two, three--and out through your mouth. Slow. Like you're cooling soup."

"You're making everything about food," you whispered, but you exhaled. Shaky. Long.

"It's working though, isn't it?"

It was. Not all at once. It wasn't like flipping a switch. But round after round, his quiet counting filled the spaces where the panic had been screaming. He never reached for you, never crowded you. He just sat close enough that his knee bumped yours and counted.

When your breathing finally evened out, he tilted his head back against the cabinet.

"Better?"

You nodded, throat raw.

"Cool." He bumped your knee again on purpose this time. "Take your time. I'm not going anywhere."

Sunday

You hadn't meant for him to see like this.

The observation car was typically empty at this hour. You chosen it precisely for that reason, curling into the window seat with your arms locked around your middle and your breath coming in bursts that you couldn't control no matter how hard you pressed your palms against your own ribs.

Then his reflection appeared in the glass.

He paused, reading the scene with those careful, calculating eyes, and when he stepped forward it was with the deliberateness of someone who understood that sudden movement could make everything worse.

"I'm going to sit across from you," he said in a quiet announcement, giving you the chance to refuse. When you didn't, he lowered himself into the opposite seat and folded his hands in his lap. "Tell me five things you can see."

Your jaw clenched. "I know--I know the grounding technique, Sunday. It's not--"

"Indulge me."

"The--the stars," you managed. "Your gloves. The lamp. My reflection. The cup on the table."

"Good. Now match your breathing to mine. Watch." He inhaled, slow and visible, letting his chest rise so you could track the rhythm. "In for four counts. You are not dying. Your body believes you are, but you and I both know it is mistaken."

You followed him. Messily at first, but his gaze never wavered.

"Out for six. Longer than the inhale. Let the exhale carry what your body no longer needs."

"You make it sound so simple," you said, voice cracking on the last word.

"It is not simple. But it is possible, and that distinction matters." He leaned forward just slightly. "Again. With me."

Breath by breath, the rhythm he built became a structure you could lean against. He did not touch you. He did not fill the silence with reassurances that would ring hollow. He gave you a framework and trusted you to use it.

When the shaking stopped, Sunday sat back and regarded you with an expression that held no judgment. Only recognition.

"There we go, much better." he said quietly.

Gallagher

When your hands started trembling around your glass at the bar and your breathing went tight and quick, he was already moving.

He didn't come around the counter. Instead, he set a clean towel down, placed a glass of cold water on top of it, and slid both toward you with two fingers.

"Drink that. Small sip. Just one."

"Gallagher, I'm fine, I--"

"You're not, and that's all right." His voice was low, bar-volume. The kind of register that didn't carry past the person it was meant for. "Small sip. Cold water can help reset whatever's in your chest, trust the bartender."

You took the sip. The cold hit the back of your throat and your next breath came a fraction deeper than the last.

"Good," he said, and leaned both forearms on the counter so he was closer to your eye level. "Now. Breathe in for me. Nice and slow, like you're trying not to fog up a window."

You tried. It stuttered.

"That counts," he said simply. "Out through your mouth. Take twice as long breathing out as you did breathing in. I'll keep time."

He tapped his thumb against the counter in a slow, even rhythm. Not loud. Just enough to feel the pulse of it through the wood if you pressed your fingertips down. You did, anchoring yourself to that tiny, steady beat.

"Good. Again. You're doing the hard part already, which is just staying put instead of running."

"How do you know that?" Your voice was barely above a whisper.

"Because I've wanted to run a few times myself." He said casually. A fact, plain and. "Take another sip. Then we'll go again."

You drank. You breathed. He tapped.

Slowly, the panic thinned and quieted.

Throughout all of this, Gallagher looked at you the way he looked at anyone else sitting at his bar. Mind you, he would keep the bar open for as long as you needed it (or him), but that was beside the point.

Aventurine

"Oh no you don't. Eyes on me."

His voice cut through the static in your skull. You were sitting on the floor of a Penacony hotel corridor with your back against the wall and your chest caving in on itself, and Aventurine was crouching right in front of you, one knee down, head tilted.

"I can't breathe," you choked out.

"You can. You are. Badly, sure, but that's fixable." He pulled a coin from his pocket, the gesture so automatic it had to be habit. He held it up between his thumb and forefinger. "Watch this. Don't look anywhere else."

He flipped the coin. Caught it. Flipped it again.

"Every time it goes up, you breathe in. Every time I catch it, you breathe out. Simple odds. Even you can't lose this one."

"That's--a terrible way to--"

"Better than nothing, plus you just talked back to me, which means your brain's already coming back online." The grin he gave you was sharp, designed to provoke exactly the irritation that would pull you out of your own spiral. He flipped the coin again. "In."

You breathed in.

He caught it. "Out. Slow. Make it last."

Flip. Catch. Flip. Catch. Your lungs followed the arc of gold in the air, and each round loosened something behind your sternum ever so slightly.

After a minute he stopped flipping and just held the coin still. "Better?"

You nodded, pressing the heels of your hands against your wet eyes. "Sorry. I don't know what--"

"Don't." The word was quick but not harsh. He sat down beside you, back against the same wall, close enough that your shoulders were nearly touching. "Don't apologize for a body doing what bodies do."

Something in his voice shifted when he said it, but it was gone before you could try to understand it further.

He pressed the coin into your palm and folded your fingers over it. "Keep it. Next time it happens and I'm not around, flip it yourself. Give your brain a job and it'll stops eating itself alive."

You stared at the coin. "Does that actually work?"

"Got me through more nights than I'll ever tell you about." He stood and offered you his hand, easy as anything. "Come on. On your feet, gorgeous. The floor's no place for either of us."

Dr. Veritas Ratio

He seen it before during exams where students would freeze up with their eyes glassing over and chest locking up. He learned through repetition that the worst thing you could offer a person in crisis was vague comfort, and the best thing you could offer was information.

So when he found you hyperventilating in your office, he didn't ask if you were okay. He pulled a chair directly in front of yours, sat down, and spoke.

"Your amygdala has triggered a sympathetic nervous system response. Adrenaline is flooding your bloodstream. Your body believes it is under threat, but there is no threat here. You are going to override the signal manually. Nod if you can hear me."

You nodded, fingers digging into your thighs.

"Good. Exhale first. Your lungs are over-inflated right now because you've been gasping. Push the air out. All of it."

"I c-can't just--"

"You can. You've exhaled approximately twenty thousand times today without thinking about it. Do it once on purpose. Out. Now."

You pushed the breath out. It came rough and too fast.

"Again. Slower." He held up a hand, counting down from six with his fingers. You watched each one fold down and matched your exhale to the count.

"Now inhale through your nose. Your diaphragm should expand, not your chest. If your shoulders are rising, you're breathing wrong."

"You're so--you're so intense right now," you managed, half laughing, half crying.

"I will be whatever produces results." He said flatly and kept his hand raised where you could follow it. "Again. Exhale--Six... Five... Four..."

He walked you through like a lesson plan. Repetition after repetition, correcting your form with the same blunt precision he used for everything, until your hands unclenched and the room stopped tilting.

When it was over, he leaned back and studied you. "I take it you're feeling better now?"

"Yeah." You wiped your face. "Thank you."

"Don't thank me. Practice the technique so you can do it alone next time." A beat. "Though... I will be available if you can't."

He said the last part quieter, and you almost missed it. Almost.

Argenti

There was a choked sound from around the corner of the garden terrace, barely louder than the fountain.

Anyone else might have mistaken it for laughter or dismissed it as wind, but Argenti knew better.

He came around the column and found you sitting on the stone bench with your arms wrapped around yourself, rocking slightly, each breath shallow and desperate, never quite filling your lungs.

He knelt, lowering himself to one knee on the stone like he was performing an oath, placing himself below your eye line so you wouldn't have to look up.

"I'm here. May I take your hands?" he asked, waiting for your permission.

You shook your head, pressing your palms harder against your own arms.

"Then I will stay right here." There was no hurt in his voice. "Listen to me. Only to me. Can you feel the stone beneath you? It's solid. It's holding you."

"Argenti, I feel like I'm dy--ing--"

"You are not dying. I would not allow it." Ridiculous. Completely ridiculous, as if a knight could fight off a panic attack with a lance. But the fierce certainty in his face made something in your chest stutter and catch.

"Breathe with me. I will go first." He inhaled, deep and deliberate, letting you see the rise of it. Then he exhaled through parted lips, slow, measured. "Follow when you're ready. Not a moment before."

You watched two of his breaths before you tried. Yours crumbled on the way out.

"That was brave," he said. "Again."

"Don't call it brave, it was barely anything--"

"It was everything. You tried when every part of you was screaming to give in. That is the definition of courage."

Your next breath lasted longer. Then longer still. He stayed on his knee the entire time, never rushing you, never standing, matching every inhale and exhale with his own like a patient mirror.

When the shaking finally stilled, you uncurled your fingers. He didn't reach for them. He waited. And when you extended your hand yourself, he took it gently and pressed his forehead to your knuckles.

"See?" he murmured. "You've won the battle."

Boothill

He wasn't built for this. That was the problem.

Not the finding-you part. Boothill could track trouble across a crowded room like a hound on a scent, and the second he spotted you pressed into the corner of the cargo hold with your chest heaving and your eyes blown wide, he was already crossing the floor.

The problem was what came after.

"Hey. Hey now, look at me. You're all right, you're--" He stopped and clenched his jaw before rolling back on his heels.

The first thing every damn guide said was breathe with them, and his lungs hadn't worked like that in a long time. How the fudge was he supposed to demonstrate something his own body had forgotten how to do?

"Boothill," you gasped, grabbing his sleeve. "I can't--it won't--"

"I know. I got you. Just--hang on." He covered your hand with his. Metal pressed over your knuckles, cool and steady. His eyes darted, thinking fast the way he did in a firefight when the plan fell apart.

Then he pressed your palm flat against his chest.

Not where a heartbeat would be. Lower. Where the mechanical pump that kept him running hummed in a slow, constant rhythm. A vibration more than a sound.

"Feel that? That's my tempo. That's what keeps this whole mess of wiring and bad decisions ticking. Match it. Breathe in when it pulses. Out in between."

"That's not--"

"Yeah, I know, I ain't exactly a textbook example." His grin was crooked and a little too tight at the edges. "Common, just work with me here. In on the pulse."

You focused on the hum under your fingers. Your first breath in was ragged. The second was less. The third almost matched the rhythm.

"There you go." His voice dropped, rougher than before. "Atta girl. Keep going."

"Why does this work?" you whispered, your forehead dropping against his collarbone.

He was quiet for a beat. His hand came up to rest on the back of your head.

"Because it's the one thing about this body I can count on." He said it like a joke but you heard it more as a confession. "Figured one of us ought to."

You breathed against the hum of him until the panic bled out and all that was left was the steady, mechanical proof that he was there and not leaving.

"You good?" he asked eventually.

"Getting there."

"Good enough for me." His thumb brushed the back of your neck once. "Take your time. I ain't exactly run on a schedule."

a/n: Having gone through this during my vacation, I wanted to provide a friendly PSA that breathing is key during these scary moments✨

Zhongli

Another man that’s not concerned about the price when purchasing you the ring (Hu Tao will chew him out for putting the bill on Wangsheng Funeral Parlor’s tab again). Zhongli has a very discerning eye when it comes to minerals and craftsmanship. He carefully appraises every ring on display, studying the quality of the metal in the band, the cut and polish of the gemstone, and the skillfulness of the craftsmanship. He will easily spot any flaws in the ring’s design or any fakes that a sneaky merchant might try to sell, so rest assured that you will receive a ring made of only top quality materials. He takes his time in selecting the perfect ring. His love for you is pure and true, and he wants the ring to reflect that. Anything less than the best won’t convey his feelings for you properly, or so he thinks.

He’ll take you out for dinner first and then on a nice stroll around Liyue Harbor before asking the question and pulling out the ring, being very charming and polite as he does. He’s very calm about the whole thing, but will hide his disappointment if you say no.

Ayato

After the passing of his parents, Ayato kept their wedding and engagement rings as a memento of sorts. The rings symbolized the loving bond between his parents, and he wanted to remember that. When Ayato developed a deep, intimate bond of his own with you, the thought of marrying you crossed his mind. He knew he could easily afford a high-quality, expensive engagement ring since he was the head of the Kamisato Clan, but he ended up choosing to give you his mother’s engagement ring. The passion and love that his father harbored when giving the ring to his mother are the same feelings Ayato feels towards you. In his mind, this engagement ring is the perfect physical representation of those feelings, and also a good way to welcome you into the Kamisato family.

He would be slightly nervous about asking you to marry him, but he would hide his nervousness well. He truly wants to form a family with you, but he’s aware being the spouse to the Kamisato Clan head will come with it’s fair share of responsibilities, and he will understand if you choose to reject him. But if you accept, then Ayato hopes to use his parents’ old wedding rings during your marriage ceremony too.

Itto

It is well known that Itto barely has a single mora to his name. The man can barely afford to buy food much less an engagement ring. Itto thought about giving you a cheap imitation of one, or crafting one out of flowers because it’s the thought that counts, right? But after some thought, he decides that no, he wants to get you a proper ring to show you how serious he is about wanting to marry you. With his mind made up, Itto will work hard to earn money by taking on various odd jobs. He can’t hold down a single job for long, but for the sake of your ring, he tries. It takes him a long time to scrounge up the necessary money because he will turn down any help from his gang members. He wants to obtain the ring through his own effort and nobody else’s.

Itto won’t be able to afford a fancy ring with the money he saves up, so expect it to look simple but tasteful (thank Shinobu later for helping Itto choose a nice ring for you and avoid getting scammed). His proposal will be public and flashy, but he’d be really nervous about asking you to marry him, even dropping the ring and almost losing it because of his nerves, but rest assured you will receive it.

Kaveh

He’s very picky when it comes to choosing you gifts, more so this time since it’s an engagement ring to you from him. Kaveh went to a local jeweler to look at their selection of engagement rings, but he wasn’t satisfied with anything they had. This ring’s jewel is the wrong size, that ring’s metal is the wrong shade, and this one’s design isn’t pretty enough for your likeness.

Disappointed, Kaveh decides that he will make you the perfect engagement ring himself. He takes weeks to design it, filling his sketchbooks with sketches of potential designs and crossing off failed attempts before he finally settles on one he thinks will look perfect on your hand. When the time comes to craft it, Kaveh buys only the best quality materials, taking on more commissions to be able to afford them. He works on the ring in his spare time, being careful to ensure every aspect of it looks as perfect as his artistic skills will allow.

Once its finally finished, Kaveh feels proud of himself, confident that his ring will be one of the most beautiful pieces of jewelry you will ever see—and it honestly is. Even so, he’s still nervous about actually popping the question and giving it to you. When he finally works up the courage, he will take you out on a super romantic date that’s been planned down to every detail. The only unpredictable part about it will be your response to his proposal.

Alhaitham

He’s not exactly frugal when it comes to buying things he likes or thinks are necessary, but he won’t buy you a super expensive engagement ring. In fact, he will get you a simple silver ring with minimal decoration. Haitham prioritizes function over fashion. He doesn’t see a point in giving you an extravagant and flashy ring that would probably hinder you in your daily activities when a simple ring will serve the exact same purpose and be less bothersome.

But just because it doesn’t look extravagant doesn’t mean it’s cheap. Oh no, Haitham makes sure the metal is the real deal and made by a professional craftsman. He understands this would be a big step in your relationship, and he wants the ring to convey the seriousness of his feelings for you.

You freeze, and you chuckle nervously. “Oh! Uhm… no. Not.. exactly just…” You smile sheepishly. “Zhongli, can I- squish?”

“... Squish?” 

“Your cheeks.”

“Oh?”

You grin. “It's just- oh I don't know. An urge?” You scoot forward. “So can I?”

He chuckled, “Who am I to say no to you?”

Minutes later, you’re still squishing his cheeks, gentle pinching and you just giggling. Cuteness aggression, he realized midway. 

His cheeks are beginning to hurt, but he sees the wide, pleased smile on your lips and the giggles and Zhongli decides to let you continue for a few more minutes. 

Xiao – pre relationship

You had a strange friendship with the yaksha.

Most of your hangouts were quiet moments at Wangshu Inn. There were barely any words exchanged, just nods, the occasional small gift passed between you out of… something. Fondness, maybe. You weren't entirely sure if Xiao was simply tolerating your presence or genuinely wanted you there.

That changed the day he caught you staring.

You were perched on the balcony railing, feet swinging lazily over the edge while Xiao stood nearby, arms crossed, golden eyes scanning the horizon like a statue carved from duty. And you were staring. Again. Fifth time that day, not that you were counting.

It wasn't entirely intentional. Kind of.

The thing was, Xiao had a certain look when he wasn't actively glaring at something. His features softened almost imperceptibly, the tension in his shoulders easing by a fraction, and in those rare, unguarded moments, he looked… cute.

The thought must have shown on your face.

"…What?" His gaze cut to you instantly.

You startled, heat rushing to your ears. "Nothing."

"You've been staring for seven minutes."

"Have not."

"You have." His eyes narrowed.

Yours narrowed right back.

He made a face. "What."

You looked away. Then back. Then away again, visibly wrestling with yourself over whether to say it out loud.

Xiao exhaled through his nose. "Just say it, [Name]." A faint flicker of something, possibly amusement, maybe, crossed his face.

"It's stupid," you muttered.

"Then don't."

Your lips pressed into a pout. Another sigh from him. "What is it?"

"…Can I squish your face?"

The silence that followed was long enough that you genuinely considered throwing yourself off the balcony.

"What?"

"See? Told you."

"Squish my face?"

You buried your face in your hands. "I don't know! You just look really squishable right now!"

Another pause. Longer this time. You gave it a beat before peeking through your fingers.

Xiao was staring at you with that flat, unreadable expression, and you braced yourself for judgment. Then you noticed it. The tips of his ears, faintly, unmistakably pink.

Your own embarrassment evaporated on the spot. "Oh my Archons. You're embarrassed."

"I am not."

"You are—"

"I am not."

"Xiao—"

A hand extended toward you. He turned his head slightly to the side, jaw set, and after a stiff pause, muttered, "…Make it quick."

You stared. "…Really?"

"Before I change my mind."

You scrambled over and cupped his face in both hands.

You squished.

He went rigid immediately with the posture of a cat deeply regretting a decision, but slowly, reluctantly, the tension left him. His cheeks yielded under your palms as you grinned up at him like you'd won something.

Minutes passed.

"…Are you done?" he mumbled.

"Nope!" The flush had crept from the tips of his ears all the way down to his cheeks now, and you beamed at him, which somehow only made it worse.

You decided, privately, that this was the greatest day of your life.

After that, the dynamic shifted — less silence, more you talking while Xiao listened with the patience of someone who had lived thousands of years. A yapper and her reluctant (friend) audience. It wouldn't stay that way forever, but the rest of that story was still a long way off.

Diluc – established relationship

You noticed it while helping out at Angel's Share. 

You’d always offer help whenever you could because it also meant you would have time to hang out more with your boyfriend, and you staring isn't as uncommon. 

Diluc was behind the counter — sleeves rolled up, hair tied back, expression set in quiet concentration as he worked through the glasses. A completely normal sight. One you'd seen plenty of times before. Maybe it’s the look of pure concentration on his face, or just the way his brows furrowed in concentration, or maybe because he looked unfairly handsome doing something as mundane as cleaning glasses.

Whatever it was, you couldn't stop looking.

Eventually, Diluc sets down the glass, slowly, and his voice comes out as an amused, low murmur. "...If you're trying to burn a hole through me with your eyes, it's not working."

You nearly dropped the mug in your hands at suddenly being called out. "Oh."

He turns to you,  raising a brow. "Oh?"He echoes, lips twitching in amusement. 

You coughed. “Nothing. Nothing. Uhm. Nothing at all.” 

"Hm."

You avert your gaze and try returning to work. Thirty seconds later, you were staring again.

Diluc set down the glass he was polishing. Again.

"You're doing it again."

"Sorry."

"Why?"

You open your mouth. Close it. "...Your face."

The cloth stilled on the counter. "My face." He repeats slowly, looking at you like you said something strange. Which you really did.

"Your face." The corner of your mouth pulled up despite yourself.

"What's wrong with it?"

"Nothing."

"Then why are you staring?" His eyes narrowed, and the heat crawled up your neck before the words came out before you could stop them. "Because I want to squish it."

Silence. You became very interested in the mug in your hands.

Diluc stared, and then you hear it. Diluc let out a sound—barely audible, over almost as soon as it started. His gaze dropped to the counter for just a moment.

You looked up, and gaped. "You laughed."

"I did not."

"You did!"

He picked the cloth back up. "...Perhaps."

"You're laughing at me."

"I am."

"Rude."

He wiped the already-clean glass once. Set it down. Then leaned forward slightly across the counter and just — looked at you.  "Go ahead."

"What?"

He lifts a brow, then slowly, you reach forward. Took his face in both hands, pressing until his cheeks bunched under your palms. 

The red-haired, perpetually composed owner of Angel's Share, looked adorable with his cheeks squished like that.

You dissolved almost completely, shoulders relaxing as you smiled widely.

Diluc straightened up the moment you giggled, and cleared his throat already rethinking his decision. "This was a mistake."

"This is wonderful."

"I disagree." He mumbled.

You squished harder.

He let you.

Kaeya – Pre relationship

Kaeya noticed you staring and turned with that signature smile, slow and devastatingly deliberate. "Careful, sweetheart."

"Hm?"

"Keep looking at me like that and people might think you're in love with me."

You scoffed, rolling your eyes, but the twitch at the corner of your mouth gave you away. "You wish."

"I know."

You threw a napkin at him. He caught it without looking, then turned the full weight of that stupidly pretty grin on you, and — There it was.

That urge. Again.

You stared. He stared back, head tilting slightly. "…Why are you looking at me like you're planning a crime?"

You gasped. "That's exactly it."

"…Excuse me?" Kaeya’s eyes widened slightly, looking like he regretted the question.

"I want to squish your face."

A beat. Then the grin spread wider, posture relaxing, his word  unhurried and deeply satisfied. "Oh?"

"You look too smug."

"I am smug."

"I know. It's a problem."

"And your solution," he said, "is violence?"

"It's affection."

"Those are concerningly close together for you."

You lunged.

He dodged, laughing out loud, already backing away — and what followed was a full lap around the tavern, Kaeya weaving between chairs with the ease of someone who had definitely done worse, his laughter bouncing off the walls the entire time.

Eventually, after considerable bargaining and at least three threats, he let you catch him. Stood still, chin slightly raised, expression insufferably gracious — like he was doing you a favor.

Your hands landed on his cheeks.

Squish.

His grin stretched wider, and you’re too focused on squishing his cheeks that you miss the way his eyes softened at you.. "Happy?"

"Very."

"Good."

Before you could savor it, his hands came up and found your cheeks.

"SQUISH."

"Kaeya!"

"Now we're even."

You were absolutely not even.

The squishing war that followed was mutual, immediate, and completely undignified.

Thoma - Established Relationship

The first time Thoma noticed you staring, he thought he had something on his face. The second time, he assumed his hair was messy. The third time?

"...Okay, what is it?"

You blinked. "What?"

"You've been looking at me for ten minutes."

"Oh."

He waited. You kept staring.

"…Oh?"

You tilted your head, expression somewhere between thoughtful and suspicious. "Can I ask something weird?"

His smile brightened immediately. "Always."

You pointed at him. "Your cheeks."

"…My cheeks."

"They look really soft."

Thoma laughed — warm and easy, the kind that crinkled the corners of his eyes. "What kind of observation is that?"

"The truthful kind." You squinted. "I think if I squished them, they'd be very squishy."

The smile somehow got wider. "You want to test that theory?"

"…Can I?"

He leaned down without hesitation. "Go ahead."

Your hands found his face immediately.

They were soft. Incredibly soft.

You made a noise — involuntary, high-pitched, completely undignified.

Thoma burst out laughing, shoulders shaking under your palms, which only made the squishing better.

"Living up to expectations?"

"Better than expectations." You kneaded his cheeks with the grave focus of a scholar mid-breakthrough. "Remarkable."

"I feel like I'm being studied."

"You are."

"Should I be worried?"

"A little."

He laughed again and let you continue — secretly convinced that your delighted, thoroughly unhinged expression was far cuter than whatever had set you off in the first place.

Wanderer:

☔️ When not in a relationship, Wanderer would seethe when he sees your acquaintance flirting with you and stealing your attention. He won’t interfere because he doesn’t want to make a scene, but expect him to act like a brat the next time you hang out with him. He’ll talk bad about the other person, mentioning how mediocre and incompetent they are. He won’t admit he’s jealous, even to himself, but it doesn’t take much to figure out that he is.

☔️ He hates acting like a petulant child, but his jealousy brings out the worst in him. Wanderer lost a lot of people close to him in the past, has been abandoned by his own mother, and the thought of you leaving him too scares him. It terrifies him so much that he’ll try to distance himself from you so as to not get hurt, but he wouldn’t be able to be apart from you for long. You’re too dear to him to cut you out of his life so easily.

☔️ Whether intentionally or not, if you continue to make him jealous then Wanderer will reach a breaking point. He’ll stay by your side to keep an eye on the other person to make sure they’re not acting out of line. Any attempts to flirt with you will be intercepted by him, and he’ll quickly put the other person in their place with a few scathing remarks.

☔️ If the two of you are in a relationship, then Wanderer won’t leave your side from the very beginning. A narrowing of his eyes and his arm around you are enough to get your acquaintance to back off. He’ll feel more confident in staking his claim on you than when you’re not in a relationship, and he’ll make use of his status as your boyfriend to scare other suitors away. He hates feeling jealous because the fear of losing you is front and center in his mind, and he’ll try to be a bit sweeter to you in the aftermath to hopefully convince you that he’s the only one you need.

Cyno:

👁️‍🗨️ Won’t act out on his jealousy if you’re not in a relationship, but if you are, expect him to linger behind you like a guard dog. When your acquaintance flirts with you, Cyno will silently stare at him. His gaze is analytical, expression stoic but unrelenting in his focus on the other man. It would honestly make anyone on the receiving end of Cyno’s piercing red eyes feel uneasy. Cyno doesn’t even have to say much—his fierce gaze alone can send others running.

👁️‍🗨️ If your acquaintance doesn’t stop and continues to flirt with you, then Cyno tells the other man to back off if he sees you looking uncomfortable by the attention. If instead you enjoy the attention, then Cyno will sulk. He might mention your interest in the acquaintance when the two of you have a moment of privacy, wanting to get clarification if you were just being polite or if you found his attention not enough. Cyno will readily trust whatever explanation you give because he trusts you to not lie to him.

👁️‍🗨️ Cyno follows you around like a puppy when he’s jealous. He wants your attention, so he’ll crack some jokes to try and make you laugh, or show you how cool he is by challenging his friends to a round of TCG. He wants to show you his best self in hopes of impressing you with his skills and will act even more over-the-top during the duel. Cyno needs some simple reassurance, a word or two about how cool he is or that you’re so glad to have him as your partner, and he will calm down.

👁️‍🗨️ If you’re not in a relationship then Cyno won’t act out on his jealousy, but the memory of you smiling happily at your flirting acquaintance will linger in his mind. He sulks and feels down, and Tighnari and Collei immediately know that something is wrong with their friend. Cyno shares his troubles with Tighnari and seeks some advice on what to do to get rid of the feeling, and the consensus is that he should confess to you. Best case scenario, you reciprocate his feelings and make Cyno happy. Worst case, you turn him down and Cyno would have an opportunity to try and move on.

Xiao:

👺 Jealousy is a foreign emotion to him. The first time he sees you being flirted with by another man, Xiao feels a fierce possessiveness fill him. He wants the other man to go away, but he’ll feel guilty about interrupting your conversation, so he makes himself scarce instead. Xiao tries to busy himself with killing demons to focus on something other than the sick feeling in the pit of his stomach, but the memory of you smiling happily at someone else resurfaces in his mind, and a feeling of unease eats away at him.

👺 He won’t be able to stay away for long, and teleports back to find you to check if you’re still with the other person or not. Xiao remains hidden, watching your interaction with your acquaintance from afar, and feels conflicted. He can’t explain why it worries him so much to see you be so happy with someone else. He wants you to lead the life that makes you happiest, so his selfish desire to stay by your side makes him feel guilty. He feels like he’s undeserving of your kindness because he wants your attention on himself.

👺 Regardless of whether you’re in a relationship with him or not, Xiao’s guilt will push him away from you while his jealousy brings him right back. The tug of war in his heart will exhaust him until he finally confides in you. He explains what he’s feeling the best way he can, hoping you might have a solution. Xiao feels ashamed when you explain he’s jealous. He purses his lips and turns to face away from you, unable to look you in the eye. It will take a lot of work to let him know it’s normal to feel that way, and to reassure him that he has no reason to be jealous because you aren’t interested in your acquaintance.

👺 With careful coaxing and gentle reassurance, you’ll be able to make Xiao feel better about his guilt and jealousy. If anything, this instance will help the two of you grow closer and strengthen your relationship because it takes a lot of trust for Xiao to open up to you about his feelings and let you into his heart. If you let him, then after that moment, Xiao will stay by your side whenever anyone flirts with you, just to send the message that your heart is already taken.

Childe:

🐋 Pretty terrible at controlling and hiding his jealousy. Childe is impulsive by nature and acts out on his feelings. Watching you being flirted with by another man causes an overwhelming feeling of jealousy to swell in his chest, and to do something about it, Childe quickly inserts himself into your conversation with your acquaintance. He wraps an arm around you possessively, a charming smile on his face as he lets slip a few thinly veiled threats in the other man’s direction.

🐋 If the threatening aura around him doesn’t send the offender scampering, then mentioning that he’s the eleventh of the Fatui harbingers ought to do the trick. Childe tries to keep things civil to avoid causing a scene unnecessarily, but if the other man becomes aggressive or doesn’t take the hint, then Childe’s smile will fall from his lips to be replaced with a frighteningly cold glare. There’s no doubt that Childe will fight for you if he must, but he’d much rather you not see his bloodlust if possible.

🐋 After his bouts of jealousy, Childe likes to take your hand and take you out in a date. This is both to ease his mind and to try and prove to you that nobody is better for you than him—not that he needs to prove it, but he’s convinced he must. Childe wants to show you that he can buy you whatever you want, take you out to eat at high class restaurants, as well as show you amazing sights he’s stumbled upon during his leisure time. He wines and dines you, being as charismatic as ever, but he eats up your flirtatious words and displays of affection with a happy smile, feeling his mood instantly brighten.

🐋 He’ll want to end the date with some romantic lovemaking. Actual jealous sex with him is rare because Childe makes sure to scare off any potential suitors and uses the dates to appease himself and you about the strength of your relationship, so there aren’t any jealous feelings by the he gets around to having sex with you. He doesn’t like having such negative emotions bring him down during something that’s meant to show his love and adoration for you because it clouds his enjoyment of the moment. As such, he uses sex as just another way to show you he loves you, and also to prove that nobody can make you feel as much pleasure as he does.

🐋 If you try to make him jealous on purpose though, he’ll want to get back at you once he finds out about your plan, taking it as a challenge from you to prove himself. Expect to have a very passionate and even rough session of lovemaking when the opportunity arises. Childe will ensure your thoughts won’t be filled with anything other than him, so you won’t even think of looking at other men like that again. This will work against him though because it’ll just make you want to do it again for that delicious night of passionate lovemaking.

Kaeya:

🦚 His friendly attitude and charming smile hide the poison of jealousy taking root in his heart. Kaeya will never show his jealousy openly, not wanting to make his weaknesses known, and so masks it with a charming, amicable smile, pretending that everything is normal. Though he can fool the people around him, Kaeya can’t fool himself, and the sigh of your acquaintance flirting with you makes him grit his teeth.

🦚 He smoothly inserts himself into your conversation, asking the right questions and manipulating the other man into letting slip his intentions and what kind of person he really is. If Kaeya finds the acquaintance to be a good person and you and him are in a relationship, then he’ll gently tell the acquaintance that you’re taken. He’ll lie and do the same thing if you’re not in a relationship but are clearly uncomfortable with your acquaintance’s flirting. However, if you’re okay with the flirting then Kaeya will let it go. He won’t want to get in your way with his jealousy, thinking that it’s not his place to intervene when you’re not even his to begin with.

🦚 However, if Kaeya discovers the acquaintance is crooked, expect the Cavalry Captain to give backhanded compliments and poke fun of the other man, publicly humiliating him in the process while keeping a protective arm around you to discourage the acquaintance from pursuing you further. Kaeya would never let you come to harm, and if the acquaintance proves to be difficult, then Kaeya will keep an eye on the man and do some investigating in his free time. Don’t be surprised if one day your acquaintance leaves Mondstadt in a hurry with the excuse that he lost his job and is pursuing a better career elsewhere. Kaeya simply made sure that Mondstadt remained a safe place to live in—though he’d never tell you that.

🦚 Kaeya knows his attitude may be childish at times when he’s jealous, but he can’t help but want your attention on himself rather than other men. When the opportunity arises, he will turn on his charm and lightly flirt with you, eager to get a reaction out of you. He’s a bit like a teenage boy that wants his crush’s attention and will try almost anything to get it—even if it’s negative attention. Kaeya won’t go too far and make you uncomfortable though. He makes sure to stay a gentleman and respect your boundaries, but he won’t be able to stop himself from blushing if you call him out on his behaviour. Having someone see right through him so blatantly will catch him off-guard and make his charming demeanor slip slightly. It would be the perfect opportunity to turn the tables and make his heart skip a beat with some flirting of your own, hinting that you’re more interested in him than your acquaintance. Kaeya will be replaying your words for days in his mind, smiling like a fool in secret.

Gorou:

🐕 Despite his friendly and amicable demeanor, Gorou is unexpectedly possessive of you. He has no problems with you spending time with others without him around, but when someone shows romantic interest in you, jealousy flares up in his chest. Gorou is pretty bad at hiding it because his animal features give away how he feels. His ears rotate back and flatten to his head while his tail fluffs out. Gorou has to fight to not bare his fangs at the other man or growl at him. Gorou wouldn’t do anything to actually hurt the other person, but he’ll want to send a message for your acquaintance to back off. He’s territorial over you and hates seeing someone try to make moves on you.

🐕 If you’re not in a relationship with Gorou then the Watatsumi general will feel guilty about his behaviour, but he can’t reign in his instincts or stop himself from feeling jealous. If you call out his behaviour, Gorou will guiltily flatten his ears to his head, his tail drooping as he tries and fails to find a believable excuse for his actions. He won’t have the heart to look you in the eyes, feeling like a scolded dog. If you push him enough, then Gorou will crack and spill his feelings to you, feeling extremely embarrassed and ashamed by the whole thing. His obvious disheartenment can only be rectified by you if you return his feelings. Then, his demeanor will instantly brighten, eyes wide and sparkling with joy, a happy smile on his face as his tail wags back and forth excitedly.

🐕 If you reject him, Gorou will feel crushed, but will respect your feelings. It hurts to know you don’t feel the same way, but as a general he has been through horrifying battles and suffered the losses of his friends and fellow comrades. He’s used to pulling himself through periods of depression, and your rejection is no different. As much as it pains him to have his heart broken, Gorou is mature about it and move on fairly well. He accepts reality for what it is, but even though you don’t like him romantically, he still hopes you’ll let him stay as your friend. He likes the friendship you had and wants to continue look out for you as your friend.

🐕 If you two are in a relationship, then Gorou still feels bad for his possessive behaviour but it won’t be enough to discourage him from glaring at your acquaintance. You’ll have to take Gorou aside to help calm him down with words of assurance and some physical affection. Holding his hands and giving him some kisses and words of love will chase away the jealousy he feels, replacing it with embarrassment but also happiness. Gorou is happy to have your love and know that he’s the only one you love in this way. To him, you’re irreplaceable. He devotes his all into keeping you safe and happy, and to receive that same love backs makes him feel really good.

Zhongli:

🟨 It takes a lot to make Zhongli jealous, but it’s possible. The Wangsheng Funeral Parlor consultant has no trouble in letting you have your freedom to spend your time with whoever you like. It only becomes an issue when you start spending more time with this new acquaintance of yours rather than him. Watching your happy expression as you talk about your acquaintance, relaying the fun experiences you’ve had and your future plans with said acquaintance, Zhongli can’t help but feel a discontentment in his heart. He feels ignored by you in favor of your acquaintance.

🟨 Zhongli hides his jealousy very well, keeping his calm and gentle demeanor despite how irritated he feels on the inside. He tries to convince you to stay with him instead of paying your acquaintance another visit, trying to subtly manipulate you into staying by saying things like “It’s been so long since you’ve spent time in my company. Why don’t we enjoy a nice meal together?” Or saying he needs your help with something even though he doesn’t. But if you insist on leaving, he won’t stop you despite the ache in his heart at being left alone by you.

🟨 However, once you return, he’ll keep you by his side. He’ll want some alone time with you, but his disappointment at you leaving will make itself known. If you’re in a relationship, Zhongli will punish you via a passionate lovemaking session, marking up your neck and shoulders with love bites in visible places you won’t be able to hide easily. If you complain about them, Zhongli will apologize and say he didn’t realize what he was doing in the moment. However, don’t be fooled, the man knew very well what he was doing, and those love bites were all intentional. It was his way of staking claim on you so nobody will think of taking you away.

🟨 If you’re not in a relationship, then Zhongli will take you out on a date under the guise of wanting to catch up with his friend. He’d tour around Liyue Harbor with you, visiting Xinyue Kiosk, Heyu Tea House, and just strolling around the streets looking at the various goods merchants are selling and admiring the scenery of the ocean. Zhongli wants to spend as much time with you as possible and will try his best to keep your interest by telling you all he knows about various things in Liyue, but also pays rapt attention to anything you have to say. He asks for more outings like these with you, them being his roundabout way of trying to court you and hopefully keep you away from your acquaintance if only for a couple hours longer.

Ayato:

🧋 Ayato’s jealousy is ugly, which is why he expertly masks it behind an amicable smile. Though his smile is bright, the feelings in his heart are dark. The sight of you smiling and chatting to your male acquaintance ignite a sick feeling in his stomach, and Ayato quickly intervenes. He inserts himself into your conversation, remaining polite and courteous as is expected of the head of the Kamisato clan, but your acquaintance can’t help but feel like something is off with Ayato. The Yashiro Commissioner’s smile is friendly but there’s also something unnerving about it.

🧋 Ayato won’t make any direct threats towards your acquaintance or let it show that he’s jealous. Instead, he’ll employ more covert tactics in crushing his opposition. While he’s chatting you and your acquaintance up, Ayato subtly places a hand around your waist or on your shoulder, tucks away a stray strand of your hair, and says something with a double entendre directed at you to fluster you. They’re little things that paint a picture of the two of you being close without Ayato having to say anything out loud. The message is clear—you’re Ayato’s. Even if you’re not in a relationship at the time, Ayato will still try to intimidate his competition and get them to give up on you because he doesn’t want t risk having you snatched away from him before he even had the chance to confess his feelings to you.

🧋 If the two of you are in a relationship, then Ayato will make his jealousy known. Once you two have a private moment, Ayato will tease you by lightly poking fun at you. It seems like lighthearted banter at first, but Ayato will have trouble stopping once he starts, unintentionally taking out his pain on you. He’s hurt and he can’t help but hurt you in return with his increasingly meaner teases. When you retaliate by calling him out on his behaviour, the Yashiro Commissioner won’t have any choice except to face his ugly jealousy and come clean to you. It won’t make up for his poor treatment of you, but he gives a genuine apology and expresses his sincere regret in hurting you, hoping you will forgive him for his mistakes.

Some of them being...

"Oh! I was just taking out an stray eyelash from his face."

"I just happened to walk into the same room."

"No, I am only sleeping in his room because I don't want to waste electricity."

"Its economical. You won't get it."

Perfectly believable.

I even started arguing with Dan Heng in front of everyone once every few days so nobody gets suspicious. Sometimes over petty things like stealing food or even wearing my socks.

God, I should be an actor. 

Sometimes I catch him smiling at me during dinner. Terribly cute but he isn't very smart, you know? He doesn't realise the drastic consequences of being caught by one of them. So I just shoot him a warning glare and watch him turn back to his plate.

To console him, I usually sneak into his room late night.

Why?

See this is called a 'strategy'. Everyone is asleep, except maybe Stelle who is busy gaming. But she's too lazy to get up from her chair anyway. 

So where was I? Ah yes, night. 

So sometimes I enter my boyfriend's room, pulling him into a hug and peppering kisses all over his face. He is not much of a 'reaction' giver, but its obvious he loves the attention.

Why?

Cuz his lips lift up exactly 11 degrees. Its SO obvious he is head over heels for me.

After a fun night I make sure to leave his room before dawn.

Stelle treats his room like her own and I'd rather die than be caught sleeping with him. Not that it's embarrassing, but that....well...it is a little embarrassing....?

Honestly though...

I'm incredibly proud of us.

Three months.

Not one person has figured it out.

We're unstoppable.

DAN HENG

No one knows (Y/N) and I are dating.

At least...

She thinks no one knows.

It's a little cute.

Every morning she pretends not to notice me. 

Every afternoon she insists we're "just walking in the same direction."

Every evening she acts as though sitting beside me happened by coincidence.

Then, ten minutes later, she'll quietly hook her little finger around mine underneath the table.

Even I struggle to hold in my laugh sometimes. 

She believes she's subtle. (She is not.)

When she tries to hide her smile, her ears turn red.

When she lies, she speaks a little too quickly.

When she's embarrassed, she suddenly becomes fascinated with the nearest wall. God, she's adorable.

I think everyone knows. Or...at least some of them do?

No one says anything.

Maybe they are just being polite. Or maybe they are enjoying the show that we are putting up for them.

I certainly do.

Sometimes she'll drag me into an empty storage room because she's convinced nobody ever goes there. Which is factually incorrect. Pom-Pom visits occasionally.

And yet, she would pin me to a wall, looking left to right like she was some petty criminal looking for cops. And then with the most beautiful flush on her cheeks, she'd look up and me and say, "We are safe."

And then kiss me.

It's hard not to fall for someone like her. So full of warmth and energy, someone completely opposite to me.

I sometimes wonder if I ever deserved to love her. And then when I ask her the same question, she would yell at me non-stop for the next hour. As if the thought itself was absurd for her.

So I let her do whatever she liked. 

I don't have the heart to tell her that March nearly walked in on us kissing last week.

Or that Mr. Yang definitely noticed us leaving together. 

Or that Himeko started smiling every time she caught us making prolonged eye contact. 

She'll find out eventually.

Until then...

I'll happily keep pretending.

It's fun watching someone try so hard to hide how much they love you.

MARCH 7 TH

They're so obviously dating.

Like...

SO obviously.

I don't know how (Y/N)'s convinced herself she's being sneaky. I literally saw her going into Dan Heng's room at 11 in the night.

She insists I sit between them during breakfast, but the second I pull the chair she shoots me the nastiest glare. Ugh. Its soooooo obvious.

They always volunteer for the same missions.

Dan Heng carries her stuff before she even asks.

She steals food off his plate. And then proceeds to scold him for not stopping her.

Honestly, they are such a joke sometimes. Kind of those trash rom-coms. But instead of watching behind a screen I get to see the live version.

Do you know what's worse?

I HAVE PHOTOGRAPHIC EVIDENCE. 

Not because I was spying!

I was taking scenic photos of the train! Beautiful lighting! Wonderful composition!

AND THEN, RIGHT AT THE BACKROUND OF THE PHOTO.

WAS THEM.

KISSING.

LIKE FULL ON MAKING OUT. (exaggeration)

I had to crop them out! Do you know how difficult photoshop is?!

LIKE CAN'T THEY GET A ROOM? THERE ARE SO MANY ON THE EXPRESS.

OR EVEN BETTER. THROW THEM OFF THE TRAIN.

Go kiss somewhere else. 

See, I'm not jealous. I'm absolutely not jealous.

I am perfectly happy being single.

...

It's just...

Hypothetically...

If anyone deserved a cute romance...

It'd obviously be me.

I'm adorable.

HIMEKO

I somehow always knew they'd somehow end up together. 

The first time (Y/N) boarded the express, she was the most comfortable around Dan Heng. And the very same boy who chose to keep his words short, starting having long conversations with her. 

Sometimes they'd sit on the sofa, talking about the planets they want to visit, or the food they wish to taste. 

...

Happiness has an odd way of changing people.

They soon found out ridiculous reasons to talk to each other, to stand beside each other. 

Little things.

The kind of things young people believe they're hiding.

I never wished to intrude.

Love deserves room to breathe.

Especially new love.

There is something rather precious about watching two people slowly build a place where they feel safe with one another.

I still remember the morning Dan Heng quietly poured her a cup of coffee before making his own. Or the time he stood anxiously near the sliding doors to wait for her return after a mission.

It was then I knew. 

I hoped they would tell us eventually. Not because they owed us an explanation. But because I wanted them to know they never had to hide.

This train has always been a home. And homes should be places where joy is celebrated, not hidden.

I truly hope they remain happy together.

That they continue laughing over breakfasts. Holding hands when they think no one can see. And find comfort in each other after completing long missions.

Life among the stars is full of uncertainty and exhaustion.

But somehow, love makes even the longest journeys feel warm.

WELT

I was the first to notice.

Not because they were careless. Simply because I have lived long enough to recognize the look.

It's a subtle thing.

The instinct to glance toward the same person after something amusing happens. The unconscious habit of checking whether they're safe during battle. The need to stay close to them, no matter the situation.

I believe I noticed sometime during our stop on Belobog. 

Neither of them had admitted anything aloud. Perhaps not even to themselves.

But the evidence accumulated naturally afterward.

They shared routines, lingering conversations and the occasional disappearances that somehow always involved the same two people.

Himeko eventually asked me one evening if I'd noticed.

I admitted that I had. And we agreed there was no reason to bring it up.

When March eventually started piecing things together, I asked her not to say anything.

She complained.

For 2 hours.

Still, she listened. 

I wanted them to tell us when they were ready.

People deserve the chance to define their own relationships in their own time. There is no virtue in forcing a confession before someone feels comfortable enough to offer it.

Besides, watching them attempt to be discreet has been unexpectedly entertaining.

Especially when (Y/N) confidently whispers to Dan Heng that no one has figured it out.

She says it with such conviction that I almost feel guilty.

Almost.

STELLE

They are.... WHAT?!??????

They're dating? Since when?

I thought they were cousins? or just very....very close friends.

...

They kissed?

On the train?

More than once?

...

Oh. That explains...

Everything.

...

Wait.

THAT'S WHY THEY KEPT DISAPPEARING AFTER DINNER?!

I thought they were playing cards. 

......Fuck, I owe March 20 credits.

Fin

THIS WAS A FUN ONE. I love dan heng sooooo much like UGH HES SO SWEET.